As a K–12 district leader, there are weeks filled with meetings and unexpected projects that pull time away from other spaces. These responsibilities matter. Schools are complex learning ecosystems, and leadership requires us to be responsive to what each moment calls for. Still, the spaces that always feel the most magical to me are classrooms.

As I wrote in my book The Leader Inside, “The heartbeat of education lives inside the walls of schools. Within those walls you can find stories of kids and teachers in the mess of learning.”

Recently, I was excited to have several pre-observation meetings in our buildings. After finishing one particular  conversation, I found myself walking down the hallway, peeking into classrooms to see if there might be a space where I could quietly pop in and be part of the learning. I never want to interrupt when active learning is happening, but I also never want to miss the opportunity to see students and teachers in action.

As I passed one kindergarten classroom, I noticed a teacher getting ready to introduce a book during small-group instruction. I could instantly feel my face light up, and I decided to step in.

“Perfect timing,” I said.

“Oh, Mrs. Kaufman!” the teacher replied. “It’s so good to see you. Are you here to watch me teach? Then she whispered, Because I’m not really feeling like my best self today.”

In that moment, I made a quick decision.

“No,” I replied. “I’m here so you can watch me teach.”

I will never forget the smile that appeared on her face. She popped up from her chair and rushed over to give me a hug that felt like it lasted a full minute. I didn’t let go until she did.

Then I asked the most important question.

“What do your students need?”

“Segmenting and blending sounds,” she said.

“Can you grab me some decodables from your library?”

Within seconds she handed me a set of books and I began teaching. No lesson plan. No preparation. Just knowing what the students needed, relying on responsive teaching, and leaning on two decades of experience.

Last year I wrote a post titled Staying Close to the Classroom to capture the sentiment that I never want to drift too far away from that space. I always want to remember what it feels like to be a teacher. When we are making collective decisions for a district, it matters that we put ourselves in the shoes of the people doing the work every day. The best way I know how to do that is to keep teaching whenever I can.

I also never want to ask teachers to do something I wouldn’t try myself. Leadership is not about standing on the sidelines. It’s about rolling up our sleeves and stepping into the messiness of learning alongside others. That is what keeps us grounded.

Unexpectedly, the teacher began video recording the lesson while I was working with the students. She captured small moments of me doing what I love most. I am a teacher at heart. I come from a family of educators, and in that moment I felt like I was honoring their legacy. I always want to make them proud of the work I am doing in a leadership role, knowing our impact and influence can be infinite.

Later that day, I shared a short clip from the lesson on my Instagram story. To my surprise, several teachers I worked with years ago when I was an instructional coach immediately replied. One message in particular stopped me in my tracks:

“I love this so much… Lauren, when I worked with you, you taught me so much. I carry it with me every day! Sending love.”

Those words stayed with me.

We never fully know which moments will stay with someone. The quick conversations in hallways. The modeling during a lesson. The questions we ask. The encouragement we give when someone doubts themselves.

What we do know is that the work matters.

I write each week to reflect on my learning and to share it with others. Writing helps me slow down long enough to notice the moments like the one I wrote about this week that might otherwise pass by. In his latest blog, George Couros wrote something that resonated deeply with me regarding the process of blogging and documenting our own learning: “Sometimes I write to share my learning, but more often I write to learn. I find what I am interested in before I even start looking.”

His words reminded me why I return to this space again and again to reflect, learn, and memorialize a moment like this.

Because sometimes the most meaningful leadership moments are not found in meeting rooms or carefully planned agendas.

Sometimes they happen when you peek into a kindergarten classroom…

…hear a teacher say she is not feeling like her best self that day…

…and simply respond,

“No, I’m here so you can watch me teach.”