Gifts of Leadership Series, Post Two

This month, I’ve been paying closer attention to the wise men again. Their long journey, the way they approached the holy moment, and the gifts they carried have prompted me to reflect on the gifts leaders bring to their schools. Last week, I wrote about gold and how staying focused on the right work shapes the outcomes we want for kids. Today, I’ve been sitting with frankincense and what it teaches us about presence.

If you missed the first post in this series, you can catch it here:

The Gift of Gold: Leading with Integrity and Honor

Frankincense was burned in worship long before anyone spoke. The scent filled the room, shifting the atmosphere. When the wise men offered it to Jesus, they weren’t just giving a gift. They were honoring who He was and the sacredness of that moment.

Leadership has its own version of that gift. Whether we notice it or not, our presence fills the spaces we walk into. The way we show up can steady a building, calm a team, or give people just enough breath to get through a hard day. Presence isn’t another item on a to-do list. It’s how you carry yourself at work.

I think back on moments in my own leadership when presence did more than any memo, meeting, or mandate ever could. Sometimes I was intentional. Other times, the building made it clear it needed me to step into the space. Every one of those moments taught me the same lesson: leaders change the culture when they choose to be among their people.

My assistant principal and I used to grab our laptops and move our “office” to the cafeteria from time to time. Kids buzzing around, teachers stopping in, lunch trays clattering. We weren’t there because we needed a new workspace. We were there because the building required us to feel close. Teachers got quick answers, parents saw us actively engaged, and students lit up when they realized we knew their names. The whole place felt different when leadership wasn’t tucked away behind a door.

In the mornings, we often stood in the hallway before the bell. Not to police anything. We wanted to greet kids and staff, catch small things before they snowballed, and to be a steady face for students who were carrying far more than a backpack. That visibility changed the tone of the day for everyone, including us.

During state testing, we didn’t hide in the office refreshing our email. We set up right in the middle of the testing wing. Walking the hallways, whispering encouragement, helping teachers breathe, and being close enough for students to feel supported without saying a word. Our presence in those tense moments said more than any checklist ever could.

And then there were the hours spent sitting in collaborative planning. Not to run the show. Not to correct. To listen, understand, and learn with teachers. Sitting beside them instead of across from them reshaped our relationships. Trust grew in ways it never would have inside a conference room with an agenda taped to the wall. I’m still amazed at leaders who choose not to be in collaborative planning. It sends a message that instruction isn’t that important when you don’t attend.

Every one of those moments was a kind of frankincense. Quiet. Steady. Culture-shifting. The staff didn’t require polished speeches or perfect leadership. They needed us to show up.

Late-Lee, frankincense reminds me that leadership isn’t always about big moments or big moves. Sometimes the most meaningful thing we can offer is our presence. Step out of the office. Pull up a chair. Be among your people. Your presence becomes the offering.

Leader Reflection

Where does my school need my presence more than my paperwork?

Leader Move

Pick one way to relocate your leadership this week.

Sit in collaborative planning. Greet students at the front door. Work in a busy hallway. Be visible. Be steady. Let your presence shift the atmosphere.

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