You Can't Take the Trees With You

We moved. People move their home and office all the time. I know that as a concept, but it was not something we could manage to do for a very long time.

We talked about moving so many times in the last 25 years that our friends and kids would listen politely but didn’t even ask questions anymore. But, we never stopped listening to each other when one or the other mentioned a house that had come for sale in a neighborhood we’d targeted for our next move since 1998. Sometimes the market was too depressed to sell, we told ourselves. Sometimes it was too high to buy. Sometimes other priorities demanded our funds. Realtors fired us because we couldn’t make a decision.

I felt a deep connection to the trees that surrounded the house. I knew each one, and we planted most of them when we built the house. My husband and I were in our twenties when we moved in. We thought we would be there five years, tops, and then we would move on to something bigger, better, showier. I never imagined how beautiful and big the trees would get, how they would protect us from wind and sun, shield us from the neighbors’ gaze, and provide homes for birds and animals that we watched come and go with the seasons.

I took stock of our trees in the yard every day. I watched the branches sway in the wind, and the leaves came and went. I searched for signs of ill health, damage, destructive vines, and mushrooms sprouting near them. I listened to them. I felt their life force. My husband and I stewarded them together. Perhaps that is why we couldn’t seem to move. The trees couldn’t move with us.

But after a tiny dog was killed in the neighborhood, we knew we would have to leave. I couldn’t hear the trees anymore. It felt like a seismic shift in the landscape.

Change is hard, harder for some than others. I see this in my work with school leaders and with the constituents they serve. A change in leadership can spark a cascade of issues surrounding preserving the past and the unrealistic nostalgia that goes with it. Sometimes, to thrive, we need to move on. Leaders need to move on. Families need to move on; faculty members need to move on. The mission, philosophy, or curricula might need to move on if it is no longer in step with the educational landscape and needs of families. Sometimes the physical space no longer serves students and teachers, and the school needs to move on.

Astute leaders and trustees should always be open to change. It might not be the exact right time for the change, but constantly actively assess the options and monitor the macro and microenvironment in which your school exists. Be ready to move.

This year was the right year for our move. Our new home is surrounded by tulip poplars that soar into the sky and create beautiful music with their leaves in the breeze. I’m watching them, listening to them, and considering our place in this new landscape.

The author, Jill Goodman, is a consultant working with independent school leaders to advance their school’s mission, enhance their processes, and bolster their skills. Learn more about all services here.