Perspective | Letter to myself: Reflections on leadership, loss, and becoming whole

When I won the 2025 Wells Fargo North Carolina Principal of the Year award, I was filled with excitement not just for myself, but for my school, my community, and my family. That moment also brought deep reflection on my career as a public school educator, on my journey as a Black man in North Carolina, and on the winding path that led me here.

Too often, people see leaders only at the finish line. They see the title, the recognition, the speeches, but not the struggle, the tears, or the work it took to get there. They do not see the lonely moments, the self-doubt, or the rebuilding that leadership often demands. When we fail to share those parts of the story, we give the false impression that leadership comes easily. I have learned that true leadership, the kind that lasts, is built through pain, perseverance, and reflection.

So, this is a letter to myself: a reminder of what it took to get here, the lessons I have learned, and the person I continue to become.

Dear Jason

I am writing to you from Oct. 1, 2025. You are 51 years old now, and I want to start by saying how proud I am of you as a human being first, as a husband and father, and as a leader. I watched you give that acceptance speech in May, and I saw the emotion in your eyes. Those tears carried two decades of joy, loss, and growth.

No one truly knows the pain you have carried since you first became a principal in August 2004. During those early years, you were still grieving your Pops’ death in 1986, then your mother’s passing on Christmas Eve in 2004, and the devastating loss of your twin brother in 2006 — just a year and a half apart. The weight of those losses followed you into your first principalship. You were newly married, a young father, and trying to lead a school while learning how to hold yourself together.

In those early years, you were hurting, and that pain, untreated and unacknowledged, shaped how you led. You worked long hours, stayed at school until midnight, and then drove from Greensboro to Durham to care for your mother. You were so thankful that your twin brother and his wife stayed with your mom during her illness and played a big part in her care. You will be forever grateful for them. You confused overworking with purpose, and your ego would not let you ask for help. You remember what your mom told you on her deathbed: “When I’m gone, you need to get therapy.” But you didn’t listen then. You thought you could carry it all alone.

That arrogance was not pride. It was pain in disguise. And though you didn’t realize it at the time, that pain affected your relationships, your leadership, and your ability to connect with others.

But over time, you learned.

When you opened Gravelly Hill Middle School, something began to shift. For the first time, you started to emerge from that fog. You discovered the power of collaboration, teacher leadership, and shared vision. You began to understand that leadership is not about being the smartest person in the room; it is about creating a room where everyone’s gifts are recognized and valued. You learned to delegate, to trust, to listen, and most importantly, to get out of the way when others could lead better than you.

Jason, you learned so much when you worked at the state level with the North Carolina Department of Public Instruction (DPI). I am glad you got that chance because it gave you the opportunity to see the system from a much broader lens. You also learned so much about the principalship while coaching other principals. Do you remember those long drives home, reflecting deeply because your car radio didn’t work? Those quiet rides from Rocky Mount to Greensboro gave you time to think about leadership, purpose, and who you wanted to be.

Working at NC DPI was one of the most revealing times in your career. You supported some incredible principals and colleagues, and you began to understand how critical it is for principals to find the right fit, the right school, and the right community for their growth. That lesson shaped your thinking later when you worked in Orange County Schools’ Central Office, helping to hire principals.

You came to see that new leaders should not just take the first opportunity that comes along; they need to make sure it is a true fit. You also recognized a painful truth. Too often, Black male principals were placed in the most challenging schools with little consideration for their career development or support, while their white counterparts were not placed in those same situations. You saw firsthand how these decisions could make or break careers. But most importantly, you learned how vital thoughtful, intentional placement is to a principal’s success and to the health of an entire school community.

You also learned the importance of vulnerability. You stopped pretending to have all the answers. You began to say, “I don’t know,” and to ask for help when you needed it. You stopped holding your emotions hostage and started using them as fuel to build stronger relationships with your staff and students.

When people ask how you are doing, you always say, “I’m living the dream.” They might not know it, but those words are your personal declaration that you will never return to that dark place again. It is a reminder that leadership is not about perfection; it is about growth, grace, and gratitude.

Through your years at Gravelly Hill and now at Orange High, you have leaned heavily on teacher leadership and collaboration. You have built cultures where teachers have ownership, students have a voice, and growth is shared. By doing so, you have shown that schools thrive not because of one leader, but because of many.

Now, Jason, we need to address your internal battle with the strengths versus weaknesses debate and what you have learned. For years, you carried an insecurity about your weaknesses, the times you were impulsive, overlooked details, sought change for the sake of change, or struggled with follow-through. You have come to understand that while it is important to work to minimize your weaknesses, you will never completely eliminate them. Instead, you have learned to lean into your strengths and trust your team of leaders and supporters to help balance and minimize those weaker areas. That in itself is a true strength and a reflection of your vulnerability and growth. You now realize that everyone has weaknesses, and you have stopped feeling bad about yours.

One lesson that I need you to keep learning is this: Do you remember when you were teaching in Chatham County Schools and asked a former high school principal what he regretted most about being a principal? He began to tear up and said, “All the time I lost with my kids.”

Or do you remember the time a teacher at Gravelly Hill told you to promise her that you would never become a high school principal because her husband was one, and she saw how much time he missed with his family? Then there was the moment your superintendent asked you to move to central office, and you realized that you had never once put your 1-year-old daughter to bed because you were always at work. That comment sent you into deep reflection because you realized how many milestones you probably missed in your children’s lives, and how your loved ones protected you from the guilt. They pretended you saw the first steps or heard the first words when, in truth, those moments likely happened days earlier while you were at the place you loved — the schoolhouse.

You have learned that work-life balance does not truly exist. It is about work-life satisfaction. It is about finding peace in your purpose while still having space for your family, your health, and your humanity.

And that is what this journey has been about: becoming whole again.

Jason, this is your journey. Other principals, leaders, and human beings each have their own, and it is important for you to encourage others to learn from their journeys just as you continue learning from yours. That is what living is truly about — growing through reflection, understanding, and shared experience. No one person’s story is more important than another’s, but together, those stories create the lessons that move us all forward.

As you continue this path, never forget the lessons that came from your hardest seasons. Continue to lead with empathy, humility, and courage. Continue to make space for others to lead. And continue to tell your story, because it is through stories like yours that others find the courage to tell their own.

With gratitude and belief,

Jason Johnson
Principal, Orange High School

Closing reflection

In public education, we often talk about student growth, but leaders grow too. My story is one of mistakes, resilience, and renewal. It is proof that leadership is not about titles or awards; it is about becoming the kind of person who lifts others up. If sharing my journey reminds even one educator that it is OK to be human while leading, then every lesson, every scar, and every tear has been worth it.

Leadership is not about perfection; it’s about growth, grace, and gratitude.