
Late-Lee, I read something on Facebook that stopped me in my scroll. It said, “When I ask for directions, please don’t tell me east.” I had to laugh out loud, because that is 100% me. I am that person—the one who loses her car in a parking lot. I park. I go inside. I come back out and wander like a lost child at a carnival, scanning the rows for something that looks remotely familiar.
It’s not just parking lots either. I once tried to merge onto the interstate by going the wrong direction. (Gasp) Luckily, I figured it out really fast! A friend and co-worker who was with me still laughs about it. She even teases me about my questionable “sense of direction,” which, honestly, feels generous. I finally bought her a T-shirt that reads, “But did you die?”—because sometimes, laughter is the only way to navigate a situation (especially if you’re the one driving the wrong way).
All of this has me thinking about leadership and communication.
Directions are a funny thing. In schools, we give professional learning, roll out new initiatives, and spell out expectations with slide decks, handouts, and walkthrough tools. But how often do we pause to ask: “Do the people we’re leading actually understand what we’re saying?”
Sometimes we say “increase rigor” or “analyze data” or “follow the protocol,” but we don’t give the kind of direction people can actually use. We don’t show them the on-ramp.
When we give directions, are we speaking their language—or are we telling them to go east when they needed “turn left at the Dollar General and pass the Sonic”?
Because when we’re unclear, vague, or overly technical, our teams are left to guess. And when we leave folks to interpret things on their own, it’s like handing them a set of keys and yelling “GO!”—without checking if they know where they’re headed. Or worse, watching them drive confidently the wrong way down a one-way street, wondering why no one else is following.
Leaders don’t need to have all the answers. But we do need to be clear.We need to check in, clarify the signs, and ride shotgun every now and then. That might look like modeling for them, coaching beside them, showing examples and non-examples, or just slowing down and reading the signs to see if they have a clear understanding.
Because at the end of the day, building capacity isn’t about sounding smart and using “buzzwords”—it’s about clarity.
And if you see me walking through a parking lot looking lost, don’t worry. I’ll find my car… eventually.

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