What Miley Cyrus Taught Me About Board Governance

What did you want to be when you grew up? How did that vision of your adult life reflect your core passions? 

I wanted to be a teacher, aerobics instructor, and a rock star. 

From a very young age, I knew I wanted to be a teacher. When I was sick and had to miss school, I would play school with all of my stuffed animals and teach them lessons from the unused workbook pages my teacher sent home. Years later, I got my first teaching job leading a second-grade classroom at a charter school.

I also developed a love of physical fitness as a child. I had a VHS tape of a Mickey Mouse-themed workout program called Mousercise, and I would exercise along with it in my living room. In my twenties, I became a certified aerobics instructor and led after-school fitness classes for teachers at the schools where I worked. 

Music has always been part of my life as well. My sister and I regularly put on backyard talent shows for anyone willing to watch. In middle school, I joined a competitive show choir. Yes, just like the TV show Glee. As an adult, I have been paid to perform in more than 50 musical theatre productions, sing at weddings and funerals, and serve as a lead vocalist in church bands. 

Looking back, someone might say, "By age 23, she accomplished everything she dreamed of doing."

In some ways, that's true.

But dreams require nurturing.

In my thirties, I became the principal of a charter school within a national network. I was ambitious, passionate, and committed to the work. I routinely worked 60 to 80 hours a week, including evenings and weekends.

I stayed connected to teaching by leading the middle school musical theatre elective every Wednesday. I continued leading staff workouts. But performing became increasingly difficult to maintain.

About three years into my principalship, I had to miss several evening board meetings because of theatre performances. I vividly remember my board chair pulling me aside and telling me that missing board meetings was no longer acceptable and that I needed to quit musical theatre.

As an eager professional climbing the career ladder, it seemed like a reasonable sacrifice.

So I quit.

One year later, I was burned out and no longer fulfilled by my work. After four years as principal, I left the position.

Over the next decade, I continued advancing my career and welcomed two children into the world. There was less time for exercise. I never returned to musical theatre. Slowly, things that had once brought me joy slipped away.

_____

Recently, I was listening to the radio when a Miley Cyrus song called Younger You came on. The song imagines a conversation between your younger self and the person you have become.

A few lines hit me particularly hard:  

“Hey, you, it's younger you

I know your story isn't done, but do you love who you've become?

Somewhеre along the way, we lost touch

Wе used to be so happy just because

I know you had to go eventually

But don't forget about me, don't forget about me” 

As I listened, I started thinking about the younger version of myself. The little girl who wanted to teach, perform, and move her body. Somewhere along the way, I had lost touch with her.

As I reflect on my final year as a principal, I don't think I was burned out solely because of the job itself. I think my work-life balance had become so skewed that I no longer had space to nurture the parts of me that made me feel alive.

Without regular exercise, I no longer felt strong in my body. Without performing, I lost a creative outlet that had always energized me.

What I wanted to be as a child wasn't just a collection of youthful dreams. Those aspirations reflected something deeper about who I am. They pointed to the things that feed my soul.

And I needed to find my way back to them.

In the last month, I started a cover band with a few friends and have been having the time of my life making music again. I've returned to the gym more consistently and even bought a weighted vest to make my neighborhood walks more challenging.

Every day, I feel a little more like myself.

So what does this have to do with board governance?

A lot, actually. 

School leaders are whole people. While they may appear to devote every ounce of their energy to the students and communities they serve, they have passions, interests, and identities beyond their jobs. When those parts of a leader's life are nurtured, they become healthier, more fulfilled, and often more effective leaders.

Sometimes leaders need explicit permission from their governing boards to protect time for the things that matter most to them.

Here are a few questions to ponder, as board members:

• How well do you know what feeds your leader's soul? Maybe it's pickleball. Maybe it's playing trumpet in a community band. Maybe it's hiking, painting, or even binge-watching The Bachelor.

• How are you encouraging your leader to make time for those passions?

• How are you ensuring their workload is sustainable?

• How are you helping them achieve balance instead of unintentionally rewarding overwork?

Looking back, my board could have moved meeting times or adjusted schedules to accommodate my performance commitments. Maybe I would have continued in theatre. Maybe I would have felt more fulfilled as a human being. Maybe I would have stayed in the principalship longer.

Who knows?

What I do know is this: our passions are not distractions from our work. They are often the very things that sustain us through it.

Today, I have the opportunity to intentionally cultivate the things I love while balancing work, family, and life. And perhaps that's the lesson my younger self was trying to teach me all along.

• By Dr. Kia Murray