There’s a point every school year — usually somewhere between a chaotic morning arrival, a hallway conversation with a student who just needs someone to listen, and the third fire drill of the quarter — when I have to remind myself to stop and take inventory of what’s actually holding our school together.

It’s never the systems.
It’s never the spreadsheets.
It’s always the people.

Over the years, I’ve learned that the most powerful tool I have as a school leader doesn’t cost a thing and nor does it require extensive professional learning: a genuine thank you.

When you work in a building where everything is urgent, it’s easy to start operating like gratitude is optional. But I’ve found the opposite is true: the more pressure we’re under, the more essential taking time to show sincere gratitude becomes.

Some of the most grounding moments of my day happen in the tiny spaces between tasks:

• Thanking a member of our custodial team who quietly cleared a spill before most people even noticed it
• Stopping by a classroom to tell a teacher, “Hey, that lesson today? You had them. That was good work.”
• Telling your grade level counselor that you saw the way she handled a tough parent meeting with grace.
• Pointing out to a front office teammate that her calm presence is the reason the day didn’t unravel at 7:05 AM.

Those acknowledgments take seconds.
But they change trust.
And trust changes a building.

Schools go through seasons. Some feel light; others feel heavy. Some years the climate shifts week to week. But what I’ve seen consistently is that people feel steady when they feel seen.

I think about the moments that happen behind the scenes — the kind that rarely get mentioned in newsletters:

• The teacher who quietly checked on a student going through something at home.
• The counselor who stayed late to support a family no one else could get ahold of.
• The core team that turned a small idea into something that made 100 students feel proud.
• The teammate who brought laughter into a meeting that was heading toward stress.

When I recognize those things — even in a quick “Hey, I noticed that” — I watch shoulders ease. People breathe differently when they know their work isn’t invisible.

Thank-yous reshape culture in ways data never captures.

There was a morning not long ago when a student walked into my office — unprompted — and said, “I just want to thank you for always checking on me.” It wasn’t a big, dramatic moment. It was simple. Human. And it reminded me that appreciation is contagious.

When students hear thank-yous exchanged among adults…
When they watch teachers affirm each other…
When they see leaders shout out a bus driver, or a cafeteria worker, or a teammate behind the desk…

…it becomes normal for them to practice gratitude too.

And honestly? That may be one of the most culture-shifting things we can teach.

The more intentional I’ve become about expressing appreciation in the building, the more it’s shaped the rest of my life.

I’ve learned to thank the people who love me, the friends who show up, the partner who sees the parts of my day that no one else sees, the family who holds space for me when I’m tired. Gratitude has a way of softening you — of reminding you to pay attention to what’s working, not just what’s hard.

No matter the season.
No matter the climate.
No matter the pressure of the day.

Genuine gratitude costs nothing.
But it returns everything.

If you want a school to feel different, start with appreciation.
If you want people to feel valued, say the words out loud.
If you want culture to shift, notice the humans doing the quiet work.

And if you’re tired, overwhelmed, or unsure where to begin — start with this:

Thank you.
For showing up.
For choosing this work.
For giving more than people ever see.

We can’t control everything in a school, but we can control how we care for the people in it. And in my experience, that changes everything.