Summary: I’m a frequent flyer. The more I fly, the harder I find it is to stay focused when flight attendants are reviewing safety procedures. <br> They could be standing right in front of me with the safety cards in hand, but I’ve heard it so many times, I usually think about something else. <br> On the other hand, I seem to pay more attention when the attendant says, “If the cabin loses air pressure, an oxygen mask will drop from above your seat. Place the oxygen mask on yourself first before assisting your child or other passengers.” <br> It’s always at this point, that I think about a hard conversation I had with my wife the second year I was in school administration. One night after the kids were in bed, my wife Missy asked if we could talk. I had just opened my laptop to read some work emails, so I slid it aside and said, “Sure. What’s up?” <br> “The kids and I have decided that you are a dad and husband on the weekends only.” She said without any bitterness or resentment in her voice. Just simple resignation. Then she looked me in the eyes. “Will, I think you are a shell of the man you used to be.”<br> It was difficult to listen because her words so accurately described my state-of-life. After eleven years as a classroom teacher, I had made the transition into the office as an assistant principal in a high school with 1,400 students. One of my goals was to be the kind of administrator I had admired and dreamed of having when I was a classroom teacher. I wanted to be the person who teachers and students could look to for answers, solutions, and support.<br> I woke up early every morning to check emails and plan out my day– hours before school began. I skipped lunches or ate quickly so that I could respond to emails or manage important situations. I supervised, observed, counseled, and evaluated. I attended after-school games and activities. And when I came home late each night, I’d fall asleep while trying to read bedtime stories to our four small children. When everyone was finally asleep, I’d stay up late to answer emails or plan for upcoming events or meetings. <br> In my new role in school leadership, I had stopped exercising. I had gained too much weight. Frankly, I was a shell of the man I had once been. Each day the pressure of serving students, teachers, and parents weighed so much on me that I didn’t think I could sacrifice time by less important to-do’s like eating right, exercising, or spending more time with my family time or in reflection.<br> My Letter of Resignation<br> When my wife went to bed the night of our important talk, I opened my laptop. Instead of working on email, I made a decision. I wrote a letter of resignation. I explained all the reasons I would need to leave my position, how my priorities were no longer correct, and how I had neglected my family and personal health. I printed the letter, put it in a file folder and took it my office the next morning.<br> When I sat down at my desk, I placed the folder on the corner where I could see it at all times. And I made a commitment: I’m either going to find a better way to serve my school while also caring for myself and my family, or I’m resigning and changing professions.<br> That day was a turning point for me. I didn’t discover a silver bullet. My pressures didn’t change either. Instead I found some longer lasting solutions. I began taking small steps toward making time for areas of my life: my family, my mind, my personal budget, my spiritual growth, and my physical health.<br> Over the days and years ahead, I made commitments to leave school earlier so I could be home for dinner. I started running again and working on fitness. I started eating lunch with colleagues and laughing more. And as a result, I discovered something: When you take time to invest in areas of your life outside of work, you find more creativity, inspiration and joy in serving others. In fact, I found my ability to connect with others,
