Take the Field at Halftime

Halftime may end when the whistle blows, but the work of halftime doesn’t. It ends when coaches/leaders decide how they’ll step back onto the field.

There’s a familiar feeling as January approaches, and it really does feel like a fresh start. We plan the staff breakfast for the return from the break, tidy up the building, and try to welcome everyone back with something warm and familiar. Calendars begin to fill again, routines settle back in, and expectations rise with a quiet optimism. In those moments, it feels good to believe we’re starting over. And that matters. But halftime was never meant to be a pause we pass through. It was meant to shape how we return.

What I wish leaders would stop doing at halftime is staying the same, not out of indifference, but out of fear. Fear of losing teachers. Fear of rocking the boat. Fear of uncovering something they don’t yet have the capacity to fix. So instead, the manager takes over answering the emails, adjusting the schedules, and working out coverage when and where it’s needed. Leaders hop on the endless wheel of keeping things moving. And the right work quietly waits its turn.

Too often, we move forward without really seeing or knowing what’s happening. Not because leaders don’t care, but because they’re overwhelmed, stretched thin, or unsure where even to begin. When everything feels important, it becomes hard to name what’s actually working and what isn’t. Without that clarity, reflection never goes very deep.

So January arrives, the staff returns, and despite our best intentions, it’s easy to slip back into patterns we never meant to repeat.

Late-Lee, I’ve been thinking about how often I’ve stood in that exact place. Sitting in my car before walking into the school, coffee gone cold, telling myself that this semester would be different. Reminding myself to slow down long enough to really see what was happening instead of rushing to manage it all. And then the day would start. A fire had to be extinguished. I’d have a meeting to attend. Someone would need something right in that moment. By lunchtime, the pause I promised myself was already gone.

Over time, I’ve come to believe this: halftime isn’t about shame or celebration. It’s about clarity.

Taking the field after halftime takes more than good intentions. We need to be aware and notice what’s happening beneath the surface. It’s easy to pay attention to what feels loud or feels urgent, but that’s not the only thing we should see. We should be searching for what’s actually shaping outcomes for students and teachers. 

Halftime leadership isn’t about doing more. It’s about noticing more and about creating space to reflect before reacting. Because the second half doesn’t change just because the calendar turns, it changes when leaders choose to return differently than when they left.

Before we make adjustments, call new plays, or introduce new initiatives, there’s a question worth sitting with:

What do you need to see more clearly before you decide what needs to change?

That question is where real halftime work begins.