Twenty-four hours into a fast, I had every reason to stop, and nobody would have blamed me. I kept going to 36. Here's why, and what it taught me about how leaders' standards slip one reasonable excuse at a time.
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As a principal, I was first in and last out, and I wore the hours like proof that I mattered. Here's what that scoreboard really cost, and what I measure now.
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My wife had a wedding to attend. No dinner was planned and the clock was ticking. In a lot of households, that's a five-alarm fire.
In ours, my 13-year-old son solved it before I even started worrying. "I've got the grill, Dad."
I stepped back and gave him the tongs, supporting him as needed.
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