This week, I struggled to write.

I tried to find inspiration in the usual places. A book. A podcast. An experience. A moment from the week that would spark something. Usually, that works like a charm. I listen to a podcast, read a few pages from a book, think about something that happened in a classroom or in a conversation, and somehow the words begin to find their way. This process has become such an important part of how I reflect and grow that I even wrote an Edutopia article about it.

But this week, they didn’t.

And I know this about myself: when I don’t write, I get a little anxious. Writing is one of the ways I reflect. It helps me make sense of what I am learning, what I am leading, what I am noticing, and what I am still trying to understand. So when I feel stuck, I don’t always know what to do with that. I start wondering why some weeks the ideas flow freely and other weeks I feel like I am reaching for something that is not quite there.

Let me go back to reading for a moment.

I read a lot of articles and books connected to education, literacy, coaching, and leadership. I really do. But the books and podcasts that often stretch my thinking the most are the ones outside of education. Why? Because those ideas help me see education in new ways. They help me make connections I may not have made if I stayed only in the same lane.

So much so that earlier this year, I wrote a blog titled 10 Podcasts Outside of Education That Are Elevating My Thinking.

I have a bit of a routine. Each morning, I try to begin my day by reading a few pages of a book. Recently, I have been picking up The Pivot Year by Brianna Wiest because it is the kind of book where you can read one page for inspiration or as many pages as you feel you need. Her words usually spark something in me.

But this week, even that didn’t happen.

Can you relate to what I am sharing?

I think part of it is that June felt like a month of just getting things done. Moving from one task to the next. Answering the email. Opening the file. Finishing the document. Planning the next meeting and professional learning session. Making the next decision. There were so many tabs and files open in my brain that I was doing more than I was reflecting.

And when that happens, the ideas do not always have space to land.

While I was sitting with this feeling of writer’s block, I came across Adam Grant’s ReThinking podcast episode with best selling author Fredrik Backman. And almost immediately, I felt seen.

Backman shared, “I’m in a constant state of creative anxiety,” and then described his writing process as “chaos, chaos, chaos, chaos, book.” That line stayed with me because sometimes reflection, leadership, teaching, writing, and learning can feel exactly like that. We may want the process to be neat and linear, but often it is messy, unclear, and filled with uncertainty before it becomes anything we can name.

It also made me think about something 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.” And maybe that is what this podcast reminded me of too. The mess is not separate from the learning. It is part of it. 

Then he said something else that really made me pause: “I don’t have a writing routine but I have a thinking routine.”

That was the line. Perhaps it was because maybe this week I wasn’t failing to write. Maybe I was still thinking.

Backman went on to say, “Some days I write and some days I don’t. But I always think.” I loved that. It reminded me that not all productive work is visible right away. Sometimes the work is happening in the pause. In the walk. In the car. In the quiet. In the moments when we are trying to figure out what we really think before we put words to it.

As educators and leaders, I think this matters deeply.

In schools, we often value what we can see. The finished writing piece. The posted lesson objective. The completed assessment. The data point. The agenda. The final plan. And of course, all of those things matter. But they are not the whole story.

There is so much important work that happens before the product.

The thinking before the writing.

The planning before the lesson.

The relationship before the feedback.

The noticing before the instructional move.

The reflection before the decision.

And if we are not careful, we can rush ourselves, our teachers, and our students past the thinking because we are so focused on the outcome.

Backman also reframed procrastination in a way I had never thought about before. He said, “As long as you’re procrastinating, you haven’t given up yet.”

That line feels important for classrooms.

How many times do we see a student staring at a blank page and assume they are avoiding the work? How often do students say, “I don’t know what to write,” and we immediately try to move them into producing? Maybe sometimes they need a sentence starter or a strategy. But maybe sometimes they also need us to recognize that they have not given up yet. They are still in it. They are still thinking. They are still trying to find their way in.

That does not mean we leave students stuck. It means we teach them what to do when they are stuck.

In classrooms, that might look like giving students time to talk before they write. It might mean letting them sketch, list, rehearse, or begin with one messy sentence. It might mean saying, “You do not have to know exactly what you want to say yet. Let’s start with what you are thinking.”

It might mean teaching students that writing does not always begin with a perfect first sentence. Sometimes it begins with a phrase, a question, a memory, or even a feeling.

The same is true for teachers.

When we introduce new learning, new curriculum, new assessments, or new instructional practices, we have to make space for thinking. Teachers need time to process, ask questions, make connections, try something small, reflect, and come back to the work. Implementation does not happen because we handed someone a resource. It happens when people have time to make meaning.

As leaders, we can create the conditions for that.

We can begin meetings with a reflective question instead of jumping right into updates.

We can ask, “What are you noticing?” before we ask, “What are you doing next?”

We can give teachers time after professional learning to connect new ideas to their own classrooms.

We can normalize the messy middle of learning.

We can remind people that uncertainty does not mean they are not capable. It means they are still making sense of something.

Another line from the podcast that stayed with me was when Backman said, “It’s to value effort and not outcome.” He talked about asking himself, “Did you do your best today?” and sometimes answering, “I just didn’t have more in me today than this, but I did the best I could.”

There is something so human about that.

And honestly, it is something students, teachers, and leaders may need to hear more often. Not as a way to lower expectations, but as a way to honor the process of growth. Our best looks different on different days. A student’s best effort on a Monday morning may not look the same as it does on a Thursday afternoon. A teacher’s best during the first week of a new implementation may not look the same as it will months later. A leader’s best in the middle of June may not look the same as it does when there is finally space in July to breathe and reflect.

That does not mean we stop striving. It means we lead with both high expectations and humanity.

It means we help students and adults stay in the work without feeling defined by one moment, one product, one lesson, or one day.

So, what can this look like in practice?

In the classroom, give students a “thinking routine” before writing. Let them talk with a partner, list ideas, draw a quick sketch, or respond to a simple prompt: What am I really trying to say?

For reluctant writers, normalize the first messy attempt. Tell students that the first draft is not the final destination. It is a place to begin.

During professional learning, build in quiet reflection before discussion. Give teachers time to think before asking them to share.

In coaching conversations, ask reflective questions that honor process: What felt clear? What felt hard? What did you notice about students? What might be one next move?

In leadership meetings, protect time for sense-making. Not every meeting has to end with a fully polished answer. Sometimes the most important outcome is a clearer question.

With students and adults, name effort when you see it. “I see you trying” is simple, but powerful. Backman shared that this is something he and his children say to each other. “I see that you’re trying.” What a beautiful phrase for schools. What a beautiful phrase for leadership.

Because so much of our work is trying.

Trying to reach the student who has not found confidence yet.

Trying to support the teacher who is learning something new.

Trying to build systems that are coherent and meaningful.

Trying to lead with clarity and compassion.

Trying to reflect even when the days feel full.

Trying to write even when the ideas do not come.

July feels different. There is still work to do, but the pace shifts. Students and teachers are not in school in the same way, and for leaders, a little more space opens up. Space to think. Space to reflect. Space to revisit the ideas that were buried under the urgency of June.

And maybe that is what I needed to remember this week.

Writing does not always begin with words. Sometimes it begins with frustration. Sometimes it begins with silence. Sometimes it begins with the uncomfortable feeling that there is nothing to say.

And then, if we give ourselves enough space, we realize there was something there all along.

This week, I struggled to write.

And somehow, that became the idea.