New AP Reflection Series: Rooted in Spirit, Rising in Leadership

Written by Dr. Samara Susan Ryce

I’m in my fourth month of being an Assistant Principal, and whew, what a ride it’s been! It’s the beginning of my 25th year in education, including many years as a classroom educator, with the last seven years of coaching, consulting, teaching at the college level, and exploring the meaning of being a culturally relevant and sustaining educator. I’ve landed in a place that feels like home.

My school is a beautifully diverse community that embraces culture, language, input, and multiple perspectives. Part of my new role is coordinating the International Baccalaureate (IB) program. It is a huge challenge, yes, but one that aligns perfectly with my core values as an educator and as a woman who believes that learning should be both rigorous and rooted in humanity.

Lately, I’ve been reflecting on the real power of leadership and what it means when we consider the impact on kids. As a mom of three neurodivergent children myself, I’m always thinking about these systems we live and work in. Am I a part of the problem? I am a part of the system? Is disrupting something that has to be disruptive, or can it be as simple as reminding myself and others of the power of the love we have for each other and for our students, which should be at the core of everything we do? What performative practices need to stop? How do I maintain my own personhood while remaining open to growth and change?

Somewhere in the rhythm of getting things done, I noticed I was starting to slip into the role of a taskmaster. Working towards being more efficient, but sometimes a little disconnected from the heart of my work. I value excellence and accountability, but I also want to honor the spirit I bring to this role. Productivity matters, yet not at the expense of presence, peace, or authenticity. My checklist keeps me organized, but it’s my intuition, creativity, and care that make the work meaningful. Anyone can complete a list of duties, but how we do the work and how we show up for people is what truly sets us apart.

I began taking notes for this article yesterday during a district Administrator meeting. During a session on implementing change (Plan, Picture, Part, and Purpose), I began to reflect on my style, approach, and personality, and how they manifest in this new space. I’ve always been someone who values relationships, connection, and context. In a schoolhouse, those strengths often show up in easy, visible ways: laughing with colleagues, critical conversations that still honor the humanity of a person, checking in with teachers, celebrating students, and building community. When I consider all of the cycles of change, what does this really mean for me? Because change is an inside job before it becomes sustained and organizational.

Then yesterday, during the leadership meeting, the presenter said something that stopped me in my tracks. He showed a video of a music director singing Amazing Grace. The man sang beautifully. It was on key, perfectly paced, and technically flawless. But then the speaker in the video asked him to sing it again, this time as if he were singing to his family at church. That second rendition changed everything. The notes were the same key, but the Spirit was different. You could feel his story in it. Before I knew it, I was shouting as if I were in church. “Alright now!” I yelled at the screen before I gathered myself and said to myself, “Girl, you are not in church. You are at work,” But I heard, felt, and experienced the trouble, the triumph, the testimony. When that man sang, the whole room shifted.

And that’s when it hit me.

What I experienced in that moment is what Dr. Cynthia Dillard calls “The Spirit of Our Work.” There’s a spiritual element in what we do as educators. It is something we don’t often name in our leadership meetings or data talks, but it’s there. It’s that IT factor that can’t be measured but is felt.

As a singer myself, watching that moment stirred something in me. It reminded me that, despite the uncertainty in this new role (and trust me, there are plenty of moments), I am sure about who I am and why I am here.

My years of teaching have made me highly skilled in instruction.

My years of coaching have sharpened my ability to listen, connect, and guide. That feeling of excitement deep in my gut every morning when I pull into the parking lot. That’s my purpose, reminding me of why I made the 40-minute drive across town. That’s the Spirit of my work.

I’m not just doing the work of my role.

I’m living the Spirit of my role.

To love.

To encourage.

To teach.

To model grace, hope, and faith.