We have expectations for our students, our staff, our parents, our leaders, and our colleagues.

When we host a parent night, we expect families to attend. When teachers need support with behavior, they expect administration to respond. When students sit for assessments, we expect them to demonstrate what we’ve spent months teaching.

Expectations aren’t the problem. They help us plan, prepare, and pursue excellence.

But what happens when what you expected...doesn’t happen?

During my years as a second-grade teacher, our district introduced Promethean Boards. I was fortunate enough to be selected to attend the training and then return to teach my colleagues how to use them.

I was beyond excited.

It was only my third year in education. When I first became a teacher, I had given myself a five-year timeline. I wasn’t sure if education would be my forever career. But somewhere along the way, I fell in love with teaching.

Now I had this incredible new technology, and I couldn’t wait to use it.

I spent hours creating engaging lessons. They were interactive, visually appealing, and designed to keep students involved. I even built games into the instruction because, of course, students love games.

Day one came.

Success.

The students loved it.

Day two?

Same reaction.

Mission accomplished.

Or so I thought.

A few weeks later, I had another lesson loaded and ready to go. I was just about to begin when one of my students said, loudly and confidently,

“I’m sick of this.”

Just like that...

My expectation disappeared.

If I’m honest, I was offended.

How could he not like it?

How could he be tired of something I had worked so hard to create?

Didn’t he realize how much time I had invested?

But after the initial sting wore off, I realized something much more important.

He wasn’t necessarily rejecting me.

He was revealing something I couldn’t see.

While I had created an engaging learning experience for the majority of my class, there was a minority whose needs I wasn’t meeting. Without realizing it, I had become so focused on what was working for most students that I overlooked the few who needed something different.

That moment changed the way I thought about teaching.

And years later, it continues to shape the way I lead.

When the unexpected shows up, our first instinct is often to defend what we’ve done or become frustrated by what didn’t go according to plan.

But leadership asks something different of us.

Stay calm.

Get curious.

Find the root.

Then work toward a solution.

Can I share something with you?

The unexpected is always there.

Most of the time, we just don’t see it because it tends to appear at the most unexpected moments.

And if I’m being transparent, the unexpected rarely feels good.

It exposes blind spots.

It interrupts our plans.

It challenges our confidence.

But I have come to believe that the unexpected is one of leadership’s greatest teachers.

It sharpens our discernment.

It strengthens our problem-solving.

It develops patience.

It builds endurance.

And perhaps most importantly, it teaches us to lead with understanding instead of assumption.

My first year as an assistant principal—which still feels strange to say because it went by so quickly—was filled with unexpected moments.

Some were exciting.

Some were difficult.

Some stretched me more than I thought possible.

Eventually, I stopped trying to eliminate the unexpected and started learning from it.

I learned to monitor my expectations—not because expectations don’t matter, but because leadership cannot be driven by our perspective alone.

We have to remain open.

Open to hearing what isn’t being said.

Open to seeing what we’ve overlooked.

Open to recognizing that what works for one person may not work for another.

Our responsibility isn’t simply to lead from our own experiences. It’s to understand what the people around us need and then work faithfully to meet those needs.

Will we get it right every time?

No.

Leadership will never be 100 percent perfect.

But it can be purposeful.

It can be thoughtful.

And if you’re a person of faith like I am, it can become exactly what God intends it to be.

So if you’re leading today—or preparing to lead tomorrow—here’s one piece of advice I hope you’ll carry with you:

Welcome the unexpected.

Don’t see it as an interruption.

See it as an invitation.

An invitation to grow.

An invitation to listen.

An invitation to become the leader your people need—not just the leader you expected to be.

Sometimes the greatest lessons in leadership don’t arrive with applause.

Sometimes they arrive in the voice of a second grader who simply says,

“I’m sick of this.”

And if we’re willing to listen, those unexpected moments may become the very experiences that cultivate our greatest growth.

I’ve always believed in leading from a place of fairness. That has been my compass. Still, even when your intentions are right, mistakes happen. And in those moments, accountability must rise to the surface. Leadership doesn’t mean getting everything right—it means owning what isn’t.

One of the hardest truths I’ve learned is that you will not please everyone. No matter how thoughtful, intentional, or principled you are, there will always be differing perspectives. Even so, the responsibility remains the same: choose what is right, not what is easy.

The other day, I ran into a former student, and seeing her genuinely surprised me in the best way. She’s one I still talk about often because she had such a good heart. Her presence took me back to a moment early in my teaching career.

I was being formally observed by my principal, and during the lesson, I had my students sing a song I had made up about Author’s Purpose. It was something I did regularly, but my principal wouldn’t have known that—unless she had seen it before, or unless she noticed how naturally the students responded.

In the middle of the observation, unprompted and unprovoked, that student turned to my principal and said, “Mrs. Butler does this with us all the time.”

She simply spoke what she knew to be true.

That moment stayed with me.

I’ve learned that no matter what you say about yourself, your actions—especially the ones rooted in integrity—will always speak louder. Character has a voice of its own.

In a recent message I preached, I reflected on the story of Job—how he lost everything, yet stood firm in who he knew himself to be. His friends were convinced he must have done something wrong to deserve such loss. But Job trusted the relationship he had with God more than the assumptions of others.

Much like that moment with my student, his character went before him.

There will always be naysayers. There will always be people who question your decisions or dislike how you lead. That’s inevitable. What matters is that through it all, your character speaks on your behalf.

Leadership is not easy work. It is not for the faint of heart. You have to learn how to hold both the good and the difficult at the same time—and trust that there is a lesson in all of it.

I’ve often said that the best teachers are the most reflective. The same is true for leaders. If you aren’t reflecting, you aren’t growing.

As I reach what feels like the midpoint of this new assistant principal journey, I know the lessons aren’t finished. There will be more challenges. More battles. More opportunities to choose growth over comfort.

What I know now is this: leadership is a process of becoming. And if you lead with integrity long enough, eventually—quietly, steadily—it will speak for you.

And while the week was difficult, it was still far better than what I witnessed last year. Back then, I was a Teacher Resource, responding to behaviors in individual classrooms. I wasn’t responsible for the entire system. Now I am. That’s a different weight and it’s a heavy one.

We have put processes in place.
We have launched incentives.
We have provided professional development and held assemblies.

Progress is happening — even when it feels slow.

Still, in the back of my mind, perfection keeps whispering.
And perfection is not a friend…
It steals your joy, disrupts your progress, and makes you question your calling, your competence, and your decisions. Even when I know better, I still find myself replaying every choice, wondering when it will finally feel like enough.

I’ve heard the saying “progress over perfection,” and I believe that fully.
But progress is often invisible. The fruit or evidence of progress often times comes much later.
Scripture reminds me that some plant, some water, but God is the one who gives the increase.

So instead of striving for perfection, I am choosing something deeper, something more meaningful: purpose over perfection.

Half of the school year is gone, and sometimes I still wrestle with the thought, This is not what I imagined for myself.

If I’m being honest, had it been up to me, I would be running my own family therapy practice, singing praise and worship professionally, or running my consulting business full-time. And while these are all still attainable and feel very appealing, the question I keep coming back to is this:
Would I be walking in purpose if I pursued what I wanted over where God has placed me now?

Because the truth is, while I didn’t ask for this path, I knew God was calling me to it.

He placed it in my heart………planting.
He sent the right people……..watering.
He opened the doors — including a second master’s degree in one year, and a leadership program that I was accepted into on my first try…………increase.

Even the setbacks were part of my story and a part of His plan.
Failing the writing test felt ridiculous, almost shameful — a published author who couldn’t pass a writing exam. I never would’ve imagined it and almost took it as a sign to give up. In fact, it was my husband who stopped me. Then the night before my application deadline, the results came in. I had passed the test!! I was beyond thankful and grateful. I submitted everything the next day and got in.

Then, I interviewed once for an assistant principal position. It was in front of 20 people, but I made it through the interview and found out later that evening that I got the job. Grateful……yet again, because God was fulfilling the plan.

All of this meant that I had accepted God’s plan.
But the real question still remained: have I accepted His purpose?

That is what I’m still learning to do.

You see, I realize that purpose doesn’t always look like the dream we imagined for ourselves.
Sometimes it looks like pressure, responsibility, and growing pains.
Sometimes it looks like staying when leaving would feel easier.
Regardless of what it looks like…….it is always intentional.

So right now, in this moment, I realize that I may not be running towards purpose.
I may not even be walking toward it.
But I am crawling — and that is enough.

Because as long as I’m moving, I’m still becoming who God called me to be.

And if you’re anything like me — tired, questioning, striving, yet still hopeful — don’t quit.
You don’t have to sprint. You don’t even have to walk.
Just keep moving.

Purpose will absolutely meet you there.

My own experience was in 2nd and 3rd grade, and I had fallen in love with 2nd grade. I never imagined leaving it—especially not for Kindergarten.

However, after seven years at my previous school, I was burnt out. Leadership had shifted, support for challenging behaviors was thin, and I had become the teacher everyone relied on to handle the hardest situations. I was past exhausted.

So I transferred. A friend of mine connected me with her principal, and I was hired on the spot for a 2nd grade position—or so I thought.

The school year began, and in our first meeting I was introduced as the new Kindergarten teacher… and the new team leader. Imagine my surprise. Never in my career had I thought of myself as a Kindergarten teacher, especially with my son entering Kindergarten that same year. But I took a deep breath, put on my big-girl pants, and stepped into it. (Honestly, I had no choice.)

So, the first day of school came and went. My mom called me to ask how it went, and I told her, “It was like herding a bunch of mosquitos.” There were little people everywhere. It was definitely not my best first day—but I survived. And for weeks, that was all I was doing………..surviving.

I managed to get them in line.
I managed a few small groups.
I managed some read-alouds.
I even managed to get a few sounds taught.

After a few weeks, I realized that I was doing an ok job managing, but I wasn’t getting the results that I needed and wanted from the class yet. You see, I had the tools, but didn’t have any direction. I had the routines, but didn’t have a vision.

And that’s when it hit me. In order for me to move the class forward, I needed to lead them.

Once I shifted into that mindset—once I defined a vision for my students—the results changed. My goal was simple but bold. I wanted every student to leave my class reading, no matter where they started. Some of my students couldn’t even write their names on day one. I knew it was going to be a challenge, but by the end of the year, 90% of my students were reading at or above grade level.

That shift taught me one of the biggest lessons of my career: classrooms, like schools, don’t and can’t thrive on management alone.

Yes, there is plenty to manage—resources, materials, staffing, processes, and procedures-all the moving pieces that make a school function. But none of that matters if we aren’t leading the people who bring the vision to life.

Management keeps things running.
Leadership creates movement.
Leadership brings transformation.

And if the people around us don’t believe in the work, buy into the mission, and feel inspired to carry it out, then even the best processes will fall flat.

So no matter where you are in your leadership journey, remember this:

“Management maintains what is. Leadership reveals what can be—and turns it into reality.”

And here’s the part I never saw coming: this once Kindergarten teacher had no idea she would one day become an Assistant Principal. But I am grateful for every leadership moment that season brought me. You won’t always understand why certain doors open or why certain challenges land in your lap, but know that every experience is shaping you into the leader you are meant to be.

One school year, I was team teaching in 2nd grade. My co-teacher taught Reading, while I taught Math. Yes, this former Reading Coach, taught Math and I absolutely loved it!!

That same year, we received Promethean Boards—a brand new technology that everyone was raving about. We were trained, inspired, and encouraged to use them daily during our instruction. I was all in, to say the least.

I began creating interactive Math lessons and whole-group games that I knew my students would love. Every day, I used the board to make learning fun, engaging, and meaningful. Or so I thought.

So, one day, as I began a new lesson, one of my sweet 2nd graders blurted out, “I’m sick of this!”
I froze. I was like …… What? How could anyone be sick of this? I’d poured my creativity, energy, and passion into making these lessons exciting. But later, I realized what I had missed — I never asked any of my students if they enjoyed it. I simply assumed they did.

That particular student wasn’t frustrated with me or even the technology — what I realized is that he was frustrated with Math. But because I hadn’t stopped to ask, I had overlooked his need.

If I can pause for a moment — the Bible tells us that Jesus left the ninety-nine for the one. But in my classroom, I engaged the ninety-nine and left the one.

Leadership, much like teaching, is about reaching all. Will everyone comply? No. Will everyone love what you do? Of course not. But our responsibility is to know those we serve — to learn their needs, their frustrations, and their motivations.

Leadership is less about commanding and more about serving and supporting. But you’ll never know how to support if you don’t ask. I’m learning to make it a habit to ask, “How can I best support you?” Do I have ideas? Yes — but those ideas mean nothing if they don’t connect with the people I lead.

So, if you’re on this journey like me — learn to ask. There’s a danger in assuming. When we assume, we risk losing the one while tending to the ninety-nine and forgetting that everyone matters.

I could tell countless stories about how my experiences have shaped the leader I am today, but none of it would matter if I weren’t anchored fully in Him. My roots in God run deep, and because of that, I am able to face challenges, feel the weight of them, and still come out standing on the other side. It’s only by His grace.

Now, my roots didn’t start out deep. They grew over time. Every obstacle became an opportunity for growth in leadership, even when I couldn’t see it. I still remember an experience I had during my seventh or eighth year of teaching. I had started at a new school, in a new grade, and was asked to lead the team. Leadership wasn’t new to me, but leading at a brand-new school was.

As the year went on, tension grew between me and a few of the team members. Some felt I wasn’t sharing ideas or being helpful enough. One even said she’d never ask me for help ever again. That hurt, especially because I had been offering support, creating activities, modeling lessons, and collecting data for the team. But……..I learned an important truth—just because you feel you’re meeting people’s needs doesn’t mean they feel the same way.

The tension became so thick that some stopped speaking to me altogether. I remember I would say good morning and in return, get the silent treatment. It weighed on me so heavily that one day I broke down in tears with my Reading Coach. I cried so hard that she kept me in her office, sent someone to cover my class and then got permission for me to go home and rest. I felt as though I was doing my best but in that moment, my best just didn’t seem like it was enough.

In that season, God reminded me of something powerful: no matter how much you give, you must also learn what others actually need. I apologized to my team, even though it wasn’t received right away, and I kept serving. (Because if you can’t serve, you can’t lead.) Then one day, out of the blue, that same teacher who once said they’d never ask me for help called my classroom—asking for assistance. I could have let pride lead, but instead, I helped. And at that moment, my roots grew deeper.

Now, we may not always understand why we go through what we go through, but God does. He is the one who is writing our story, one chapter at a time. Looking back, I can see how every hard season was preparation for my now. If someone had told me years ago that I’d be an Assistant Principal today, I would’ve laughed and I mean rolling on the floor laughing……like Who me?? But God was preparing me long before I could see it.

I have learned that leadership isn’t about managing people—it’s about serving them. It’s about humility, growth, and allowing God to lead you as you lead others. Every test has deepened my faith and strengthened my roots. And even when the storms come, I remind myself: my roots run deep and God is my anchor.

And if you’re like me—still learning, still growing, and sometimes questioning if you’re really equipped—just remember: you are. God is preparing you too. Stay rooted. Stay anchored.

I can remember when I was a second-grade teacher. I had one of the best classes and one of the most challenging students. I loved teaching second grade — it was my all-time favorite grade level. This particular student challenged me simply for the sake of challenging me, but deep down, I knew all he wanted was attention and love. He just didn’t know how to get it. So as horrible as his behavior could be, I would still go home and think of ways to connect with him. I was determined not to let him see that he was getting to me. I cried many nights out of frustration, but I never stopped trying to help him become better.

I saw a post recently that said, “You can be both overwhelmed and grateful.” To me, that’s exactly what growth is. You can be overwhelmed, frustrated, sad, and exhausted — and still be growing. The enemy would have you believe that tears and frustration mean weakness or failure, but that’s the furthest thing from the truth. Growth happens right in the middle of the struggle.

That student taught me that no matter how hard it gets, you can cry and keep moving — and that’s exactly what leadership calls for. Even in the midst of his chaotic moments, he would leave me little notes telling me how much he loved me as his teacher.

When you take time to reflect, you’ll find moments in your own journey that remind you — you are making a difference. You are being a light to someone who needs it. You are making decisions that lift others. You are leading.

We can’t control the situations God places us in to grow. We can only control how we respond to the moments designed to stretch us and shape us into the leaders we’re called to be.

This growth journey has been one of the hardest for me because it’s come with transitions I didn’t expect — and honestly, wasn’t quite ready for. But I’ve learned that God doesn’t call us when we’re ready; He equips us as we move. Every uncomfortable shift has reminded me that growth and faith walk hand in hand. And when you are walking in your calling, the reward is so much greater. Even in moments when I feel like giving up, I remind myself that I am still growing — and I’m not done yet.

If you’re like me, stay on course. Stay on your journey. Growth is just up ahead, but you won’t get there if you stop or give up.

But that’s exactly why my Substack page is dedicated to walking out your purpose. Because purpose isn’t always pretty — and it rarely looks like what you imagined.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m grateful and excited that God called me to be an Assistant Principal. I never saw this in my vision, but I realize now that He was preparing me all along for this journey — and I’m truly enjoying it and all that it comes with. Every challenge, every lesson, and every victory reminds me that this is exactly where I’m meant to be.

You see, my life feels like an oxymoron sometimes, because for a long time, I didn’t think my personality would fit what I thought an Assistant Principal should be. I used to picture someone bold, outspoken, and always ready for conflict — and that just wasn’t me. You see, I’ve never been confrontational, but I also didn’t back down from facing problems head-on. I’ve also never been easily swayed and I have always worked to completion. Even if it meant doing it all myself, which admittedly meant that delegation was not one of my strongest suits, LOL.

I am, however, very solution oriented. But being a problem solver for everyone was just not something I was interested in doing.

I now know that an Assistant Principal is who God says they should be……nothing more………nothing less. He uses all of you and all of your experiences to set you on the path that HE has designed for you. You just have to trust Him to lead, even when you don’t fully understand it. And that’s exactly where I am……

I may not always understand why He chose me, but He did. I just work, but I never worked in a way so God could call me to the front. I truly feel that all work is important. Whether I was in the background or not, every part of what God called me to do mattered to me. So, I don’t take this journey lightly.

Listen, this walk is heavy. This walk is weighty. And at times, it can feel really lonely.

Still, I’m grateful and feel truly blessed. Because even though I got here kicking and screaming, I know without a doubt — I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.

Now, If you’re anything like me, you didn’t plan for the path you’re on either— but that just means, it’s exactly where you’re meant to be. Sometimes purpose doesn’t ask for permission; it literally just shows up and grows in the places we least expect.

The week started with a big transition. Our principal resigned, and we celebrated her with a beautiful send-off. Leading up to it, I was juggling responsibilities that made me feel like I was doing too many jobs at once. Then, just as the week began to settle, our new principal arrived—full of energy and ready to jump right in within hours of stepping on campus. Talk about change coming fast. It was a lot to take in at first.

Meanwhile, I had to handle my first three-day suspension. The student is returning this week, and I’ve really been thinking about how to balance accountability with giving him a fresh start. Every student deserves that. Even when I feel like I’m at the end of the rope and don’t know what else to do. I remember that Rome wasn’t built in a day and neither is a change in a student’s behavior. That in itself is a lesson to me in leadership—holding boundaries while also keeping the door open for growth.

And just when I thought Friday would be my calm day, it wasn’t. A student had a complete meltdown over not getting a treat, and let’s just say it ended with me and another staff member carrying him. He missed the bus, emotions ran high, and I had to remind myself that sometimes kids just can’t carry all they’re carrying on the inside. In those moments, it’s important to make connections, no matter how hard it is.

That same morning, I dealt with an upset parent who felt her children’s safety was at risk because I didn’t allow her to drive in to drop her children off late. The conversation was tense, and just as I thought it was over, my new principal drives up and I had to let her in. Talking about perfect timing.

At any rate, by the end of the week, I was tired—but also grateful. Every one of those moments stretched me. They reminded me that leadership isn’t neat and tidy; it’s layered, messy, and human. It’s about celebrating, welcoming change with an open hand, showing firmness with compassion, and staying calm when emotions are high.

This week taught me that leadership is less about having control and more about learning how to guide people—students, parents, and even myself—through the unpredictable. Growth doesn’t come on quiet days; it’s forged in weeks like this one. Leadership is unpredictable. You have to be willing to take what’s coming at you and just keep going!! #Learning #Growing #Leading

I had one student who would break into cartwheels whenever she wasn’t taking her “candy.” Another student’s sole mission seemed to be terrorizing the class—and me. That was the first time I ever went home and cried over a child. He was HORRIBLE, and that’s putting it lightly. Then there was the student who liked to walk up to me while I was teaching and just… scream. I had no idea how to handle it until my husband, who worked with students with severe behavioral needs, told me, “Just scream back.” The next day, that student walked up and screamed. I screamed back. It felt sooooo awkward, but I did it and the student never did it again. Sometimes survival requires creative strategies.

So, let me tell you, the real circus moment came with my cartwheeling student. One morning, the Behavior Tech at my school casually mentioned, “Looks like it’s going to be an off day—call me if you need me.” Sure enough, during whole-group instruction, this student was calm. But when we moved into small group, it all unraveled. The student started yelling, screaming, and calling me names in a sing-songy voice. Annoying? Absolutely. A little funny? Honestly, yes. Because all I wanted to do was teach, but here I was, starring in the “show.”

Thankfully, by then I had trained my class on one of our rules: “Ignore Inappropriate Behaviors.” And they nailed it! (Although, it was a very weird moment, it was also a proud teaching moment for me and the lesson I needed as a leader now was unfolding before my eyes. I just didn’t know it.) So, while she was carrying on, my students worked independently, collaborated in centers, and participated in small groups. It was surreal—you could hear a pin drop despite her noise. A complete oxymoron in action.

The teacher next door came running in, thinking chaos had broken out. Instead, she found me calmly teaching, the class doing their thing, and one very loud student putting on her own one-woman performance. By that point, I had two kids of my own and so I had mastered the art of ignoring… LOL.

At any rate, I reassured my colleague. Told her I’d call home and get assistance. However, I was determined that I wasn’t going to let one student derail the entire class. Because here’s the truth: the student was a sweetheart at her core. She just needed medical support to manage her impulsive behaviors. What I learned was patience—and that one messed up circus act really doesn’t stop the show.

Leadership works in the same way. Sometimes situations are out of your control, but I learned then and still learning now, that you have to choose what you can manage. Keep the vision moving forward, even if everyone isn’t on board yet. Eventually, things will fall into place.

Some days, school does feel like a circus. Everyone’s performing—students, teachers, AND parents. But real leadership means looking past the act to see what matters. I had to manage my class until I could lead it. And when I finally did, I learned leadership isn’t about stopping the circus—it’s about making sure the show goes on with purpose!!

I started Purpose Over Perfection because I believe so many of us carry the weight of trying to “get it all right.” Whether it’s in our careers, our families, our faith, or simply how we show up each day. Perfection tells us that we will never be enough. I have learned and I am still learning that life is more about direction than being flawless. It is about choosing purpose, even when the journey is challenging.

This space will be part storytelling, part strategy, and part encouragement. I will share honest reflections from my own journey, lessons I’ve learned in leadership and education, and practical ways to embrace growth without the burn-out. I will also encourage you to simply trust yourself. I don’t think we talk enough about that. My hope is that when you read these posts, you will feel seen, supported, and reminded that progress is always greater than perfection.

Here’s what you can expect as a subscriber:

• Real conversation about leadership, growth, and faith

• Practical strategies you can apply at work and in life

• Encouragement to let go of perfection and lean into purpose

Thank you for being here. Whether you’re an educator, leader, or simply someone trying to live with more intention—you belong here. Let’s grow together, imperfectly but on purpose.