Late-Lee I’ve been thinking about my favorite red lipstick. It’s the one I reach for even on the days when I don’t feel my best. That little swipe across my lips doesn’t erase the crow’s feet around my eyes or the tired look staring back at me, but it gives me just enough lift to walk out the door with a little more confidence. Some days I tell myself, “It’s a red lipstick kind of day.”

That’s what good, targeted feedback does too. It doesn’t fix everything overnight, but it gives you the courage to take the next step. It shines a light on what matters most so you can make the adjustments that help you do better and be better. And here’s the key: it has to be honest. Polite compliments might feel nice in the moment, but they don’t move us forward. Honest feedback, given with care, is what builds confidence and sparks growth.

I know this first-hand. In my current role, I have two amazing mentors I lean on. I ask them for feedback because I want to keep growing. After nearly forty years in education, you might think I’d have it all figured out by now, but truth be told, I crave it. Their words lift me up, stretch my thinking, and remind me that growth doesn’t come with an expiration date.

I’ve also seen what happens when a whole school leans into this idea. I once worked with a principal who didn’t just talk about feedback, he embraced it. Together, we built a team of teachers who started doing peer observations. We coached them to use an observation tool, calibrated our ratings, and sat down to debrief on the highest-leverage moves. Then came the real magic—we watched those same teachers practice giving feedback to one another.

Y’all, it was powerful. Relationships started to change right in front of me. The teacher receiving feedback grew, but the one giving it grew by leaps and bounds. It gave me chills. It felt like watching a school transform into a true learning community where everybody was teaching and everybody was learning.

In Coaching from the Sidelines, I wrote about how growth only happens when folks are willing to be open. That doesn’t just appear out of thin air. It takes a culture that makes feedback safe, honest, and connected to growth. I find that some people are just offended when feedback is given. I struggle with that mindset because I want feedback.

And in Beyond the Shine: Looking for Evidence of Learning, I reminded leaders that quiet classrooms and perfect bulletin boards don’t always mean students are learning. Just like lipstick doesn’t erase my wrinkles, appearances don’t prove progress. You have to be willing to look deeper.

Here’s where it all ties together. Real feedback isn’t about pointing out flaws, it’s about giving people the courage to grow. My lipstick doesn’t change who I am, and honest feedback doesn’t change a teacher’s worth. Both just give us the confidence to keep showing up and doing the work.

When a school embraces this, everything shifts. Conversations move from criticism to courage. People embrace the feedback and use it to impact what really matters. You can feel it in the halls. It’s a culture that says: “We’re in this together, and we’re all going to grow.”

So yes, I’ll keep wearing my red lipstick. Not to present myself as perfect. I am far from it. I wear it as a reminder to step forward with confidence. And I’ll keep believing schools can do the same by sharing feedback that is honest, encouraging learning that runs deep, and recognizing growth is the shade everyone wears.

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