Higher Performance Insights | DISRUPTING THE PIPELINE

December 10, 2025
higher performance insights

Builder Insights from December's Peer-to-Peer Roundtable


2.9 million students walked away from traditional education in the last decade.


Not because they hate learning. Because they discovered something educational leaders are just now admitting to each other in private Zoom rooms.


Last Wednesday, a college president stood up (metaphorically—we were on Zoom, but you could feel him standing) and said something that made every superintendent in the room physically lean forward:


"We have become habituated to viewing educational leadership through filters—analogous to social media platforms where individuals present curated identities disconnected from reality. Trinity Valley was profoundly guilty of this pattern—appearing to external audiences as an institution meeting mission while internally delivering bare minimum performance."


Jason Morrison, Ed. D., President of Trinity Valley Community College in Texas, just named the thing everyone in educational leadership feels but nobody says out loud.


Welcome to the Snapchat Filter Effect. Your institution looks great in the photos. The reality? That's a different story.

And here's why this matters right now, today, in December 2025:


1.7 million students lost in higher education since 2014. 1.2 million departed K-12 since 2019. Combined, that's roughly the population of New Mexico—students who didn't disappear, they just opted for educational providers who weren't performing behind a filter.


The market already delivered its verdict. The only question is whether educational leaders will respond with the courage this moment demands—or keep adjusting the filter settings while enrollment evaporates.


Comment "FILTER" if this describes your institution right now. (I'll go first in comments. Yes, I've been guilty of this too.)



Builder Insights from December's Peer-to-Peer Roundtable


2.9 million students walked away from traditional education in the last decade.


Not because they hate learning. Because they discovered something educational leaders are just now admitting to each other in private Zoom rooms.


Last Wednesday, a college president stood up (metaphorically—we were on Zoom, but you could feel him standing) and said something that made every superintendent in the room physically lean forward:


"We have become habituated to viewing educational leadership through filters—analogous to social media platforms where individuals present curated identities disconnected from reality. Trinity Valley was profoundly guilty of this pattern—appearing to external audiences as an institution meeting mission while internally delivering bare minimum performance."

Jason Morrison, Ed. D., President of Trinity Valley Community College in Texas, just named the thing everyone in educational leadership feels but nobody says out loud.


Welcome to the Snapchat Filter Effect. Your institution looks great in the photos. The reality? That's a different story.

And here's why this matters right now, today, in December 2025:


1.7 million students lost in higher education since 2014. 1.2 million departed K-12 since 2019. Combined, that's roughly the population of New Mexico—students who didn't disappear, they just opted for educational providers who weren't performing behind a filter.


The market already delivered its verdict. The only question is whether educational leaders will respond with the courage this moment demands—or keep adjusting the filter settings while enrollment evaporates.


Comment "FILTER" if this describes your institution right now. (I'll go first in comments. Yes, I've been guilty of this too.)


Peer-2-Peer December Cohort


THE DIAGNOSIS: WHY SMART LEADERS BUILD STUPID SYSTEMS


Let's talk about this like adults who've survived multiple accreditation cycles, at least one superintendent search that somehow took longer than an actual presidential election, and that January board meeting where someone said something that made everyone wonder if they'd accidentally joined a different organization.


Here's what December looks like for educational leaders right now:


Your calendar is suffocating. Your inbox has emails from three months ago you'll never read.


You're managing semester-end chaos while simultaneously planning for spring enrollment, navigating board politics, addressing personnel issues that should've been handled in October, and pretending the budget projections for next year don't terrify you.


And somewhere in that chaos, you're supposed to be "transformational."


But here's the uncomfortable truth nobody wants to acknowledge:


Most of us have been optimizing for optics, not outcomes.


We've professionalized educational leadership so thoroughly that we've accidentally made it functionally impossible to tell the truth about how our systems actually perform.


I know the loneliness of being the only person who sees this pattern. Of wondering if you're the problem because surely—SURELY—leadership teams at other districts/institutions don't operate like a group project where everyone's doing their part but nobody's read anyone else's sections.


You're not crazy. Your team isn't incompetent.


You've just been optimizing the wrong variable while the world outside your conference room keeps moving.


(This is actually why research across 987 leadership teams reveals that 60% of organizations operate at barely half their potential capacity despite having individually brilliant team members. We keep adding talent to broken systems, which means we're just scaling dysfunction. But I'm getting ahead of myself.)


THE INTERFERENCE AUDIT: A FORMULA THAT EXPLAINS YOUR ENTIRE DECEMBER


During Wednesday's Peer-to-Peer Leadership Roundtable, I dropped a formula that made everyone stop nodding politely and start taking screenshots.


Because it explained why their last three strategic initiatives died:


P = p - I


Performance = Potential - Interference


Here's what it means:


Performance (P): The non-negotiable outcomes your career depends on. Enrollment. Graduation rates. Student success. Board satisfaction. The stuff that determines whether you still have this job in 18 months.


Potential (p): The aggregate talent, resources, and expertise within your organization. You've got brilliant people. You've got programs that could be excellent. On paper, you should be crushing it.


Interference (I): The systemic obstacles preventing potential from translating into performance. Legacy processes consuming disproportionate time. Cultural norms inhibiting accountability. The "this is how we've always done it" crowd showing up to every meeting to protect status quo.


Here's what you're doing wrong: Performance drops, you hire more people. Still underperforming? Add more programs. Still stuck? Expand infrastructure.


You're adding capacity to dysfunction, which means you're just scaling the thing that's already broken.


Mike Johnson, Superintendent of Eau Claire Area School District in Wisconsin, said it perfectly:


"The factor that most significantly impacts our performance is interference—legacy patterns embedded in phrases like 'this is how we've always operated.' When I assumed this role in 2020, our literacy performance was unacceptable. We had to acknowledge that reality without equivocation."

The temptation when confronting performance gaps is to add resources—more personnel, more programs. However, given our enrollment trajectory, that approach is financially unsustainable. Our imperative is systemic redesign first, then strategic talent deployment aligned to that redesigned system."


Translation: Adding talent to a broken system doesn't fix the system. It just gives you more talented people operating inside dysfunction.


💡 "Adding talent to a broken system doesn't fix the system. It just gives you more talented people operating inside dysfunction."


(This is why your last three strategic initiatives died somewhere between the VP of Finance and the VP of Academic Affairs. You added capacity. You didn't address interference.)


THE 7,000 RPM QUESTION: DO YOU ACTUALLY KNOW YOUR SYSTEM'S LIMITS?


Dr. Nathan S. Schilling, CSBO, Superintendent of Lansing School District 158 in Illinois, introduced an analogy that made every leader in the room immediately screenshot the Zoom and text it to their cabinet:


He referenced the film Ford v Ferrari—specifically the scene where the driver receives authorization to push the vehicle to 7,000 RPM, a threshold that risks catastrophic failure if the system can't sustain it.


"As organizational leaders, we bear responsibility for equivalent understanding of our institutional systems. We must know our organizations with sufficient depth to identify optimal performance thresholds—pushing hard enough to maximize outcomes, but not so aggressively that we damage the system's capacity for sustained excellence."

Here's the leadership gut-check:


Do you know your institution well enough to push it to 7,000 RPM without breaking it?


Most leaders don't.


We push harder when enrollment drops. We add initiatives when boards get nervous. We demand more when community perception shifts.


But we rarely ask: Can this system sustain this level of performance? Or am I about to blow the engine?


Nathan's honest admission: "Unfortunately, we are experiencing significant personnel challenges this year—a pattern my Illinois colleagues report as well. The human capital dimension—recruitment, retention, development, support—demands substantial leadership attention currently. My focus is sustaining our district's operational performance at that optimal threshold while navigating unprecedented personnel complexity."


This is the reality December 2025 brings:


  • You've got demographic decline eating your enrollment projections
  • You've got personnel challenges unlike anything pre-pandemic
  • You've got boards asking uncomfortable questions about efficiency
  • You've got communities wondering why education feels increasingly disconnected from their kids' actual needs


And you're supposed to lead transformation while keeping the engine from exploding.


The bar for "better" is underground.


THE FRAMEWORK: THREE LEADER ARCHETYPES SABOTAGING YOUR TRANSFORMATION


During the roundtable, I introduced a framework that helped leaders diagnose not just their systems, but their teams.


Because here's the uncomfortable reality:


You don't just have dysfunction in your processes. You have dysfunction in your people.


Think about two axes: Ambition and Idealism.


You've got leaders who want to climb (high ambition). You've got leaders who dream about mission (high idealism).


The magic happens when you find leaders who operate with both—high ambition married to high idealism, focused on building what students need.


But most of your team? They fall into three other categories:


1. THE COASTERS


Low Ambition, Low Idealism


These are the folks with 30+ years in, sitting on every committee, collecting a solid paycheck, and sleeping better than you do.

They resist by doing basically nothing. They're in your boat, but they're not rowing. And honestly? They're comfortable with that.


2. THE CLIMBERS


High Ambition, Low Idealism


Good people. Smart people. But they're optimizing the wrong metrics.


They'll move mountains to hit their KPIs, but they're bothered by the messy, complex, human reality of education. They want spreadsheets that make sense.


Students? Students don't make sense.


So they resist by demanding more data, more analysis, more proof—anything to avoid the discomfort of acknowledging that you can't always measure what matters most.


3. THE DREAMERS


Low Ambition, High Idealism


These folks have read every leadership book under the sun. Seven Habits. Five Dysfunctions. The One Thing.


They've got beautiful visions. Zero execution.


They resist by studying everything to death. In Texas, we call these "Big Hat, No Cattle" leaders. Lots of talk. No cows.


Then you've got the BUILDERS.


High Ambition, High Idealism


These are your people. The ones willing to dismantle what doesn't work and construct what does.


The ones who understand that moral ambition isn't optional—it's the fuel that keeps you fighting when everything feels impossible.


Here's the leadership question you need to answer this week:


How much of your energy is spent managing Coasters, redirecting Climbers, and grounding Dreamers—versus empowering Builders?


Because if you're spending 60% of your time managing the first three categories, you don't have an execution problem.

You have a talent allocation problem.


And that's fixable.


💡 "You don't have time to fix everybody. You have time to build with the Builders and create systems that make Coasting uncomfortable."


YOUR TURN: CALCULATE YOUR COASTER TAX


Quick math:


  • Number of Coasters on your team: _____
  • Average salary: _____
  • Percentage of time spent managing their dysfunction: _____%
  • Hours per week: _____ × 42 weeks = _____ hours annually


That number you just calculated? That's not a personnel budget line. That's leadership energy stolen from Builders and students.


Multiply by your hourly rate. That's your annual Coaster Tax.


Now ask: What could you build if that energy went to Builders instead?


Drop your number in comments (round to nearest thousand—nobody needs exact figures, we need honesty).


THE CASE STUDY: HOW ONE PRESIDENT REMOVED THE FILTER (AND WHAT HAPPENED NEXT)


Jason Morrison walked into Trinity Valley Community College in Texas with a clear-eyed diagnosis:


His institution was operating under what he calls "the Bare Minimum Culture."


Texas had structured community college funding around contact hours—meaning you got paid for enrollment, not completion.


So guess what Trinity Valley optimized for? Butts in seats. Didn't matter if students graduated. Didn't matter if they learned.


Just... show up long enough to generate funding.


Then Texas shifted to performance-based funding tied to completion.


Suddenly, bare minimum wasn't sustainable. It was existential.


Here's what Jason did in January of Year 2—not Year 5 after building relational capital, but Year 2 when most leaders are still smiling pretty and listening carefully:


He stood on stage at convocation and said this:


"I need to apologize. Previous leadership failed you by establishing and tolerating a culture where minimal effort was deemed acceptable. That failure belonged to leadership, not to the dedicated professionals working within a dysfunctional system. This will not be our identity moving forward."

Then he did something most consultants would tell you is career suicide:


He blew everything up.


Not incrementally. Not through a carefully phased change management process with stakeholder input sessions and listening tours.


He established new cultural standards publicly and unequivocally.


He called it the "Championship Mindset"—leveraging the college's athletic success as a cultural metaphor. Not mandates. Not requirements. Expectations.


And then he invited the community to define what those expectations meant operationally.


The result?


The high-capacity professionals—the people buried in advising offices and financial aid departments who'd been doing excellent work in obscurity—they lit up.


Because someone finally said out loud what they'd been thinking for years: This isn't good enough, and we're going to fix it.


The bare minimalists? Some left. Some adapted. Some are still there, but they're no longer setting the cultural tone because the Builders now outnumber them.


Here's the leadership principle:


Culture change requires both clarity and co-creation. Leaders must establish non-negotiable standards while creating space for the organization to define how those standards manifest operationally.


Jason didn't tell people how to build a championship mindset. He told them we will have a championship mindset. Then he let his Builders define what that meant in their contexts.


Revolutionary? No. Obvious? Yes. Common? Based on conversations with 987 leadership teams—absolutely not.


THE TALENT QUESTION: SHOULD YOU EVEN TRY TO CONVERT COASTERS?


Amy Diaz, EdD, President of GateWay Community College in Phoenix (Maricopa system), asked the question that made every leader in the Zoom uncomfortably shift in their chairs:


"Should I invest substantial leadership energy attempting to convert coasters into builders? I question whether such transformation is achievable in most cases. Perhaps a coaster can become marginally less passive, but fundamental identity transformation from coaster to builder may be unrealistic."

My preferred strategy focuses on hiring practices that identify and attract builders from the outset—individuals whose values, work ethic, and orientation toward innovation already align with our institutional culture."


Translation: Stop trying to fix people. Start hiring the right people.


Now, some of you just got really uncomfortable. Because this feels harsh. It feels like giving up on people.


But here's the data:


@Wade Stanford, Superintendent of Westwood ISD in Texas, connected this directly to student outcomes:


"Leadership energy consumed managing adult dysfunction is energy unavailable for student-focused work. And community perception? External stakeholders experience our institutions through these individuals. We inherit the reputation associated with their performance patterns—and community perception becomes institutional reality regardless of broader excellence."


The uncomfortable truth: Your Coasters are costing you more than salary. They're costing you reputation. They're costing you community trust. And they're costing students the leadership attention they deserve.


So here's the strategic question:


What if you stopped investing energy trying to convert Coasters and instead redirected that energy toward:


  • Hiring practices that identify Builders from the start?
  • Professional development that multiplies Builder capacity?
  • Systems that make it harder for Coasters to hide and easier for Builders to thrive?


Amy's right. Your hiring process is probably too sterile. Twenty-minute finalist interviews can't distinguish between people who interview well and people who perform well.


You need performance tasks. You need operational context. You need to assess entrepreneurial mindset, builder orientation, and resilience explicitly—not just credentials and interview polish.


Because here's the reality December 2025 demands:


You don't have time to fix everybody. You have time to build with the Builders and create systems that make Coasting uncomfortable.


THE PARADOX OF EXCELLENCE: WHEN HIGH PERFORMANCE BECOMES THE ENEMY OF GROWTH


Stacey Boyd, Superintendent of GateWay Community College Charter High Schools (operating campuses embedded in actual colleges), introduced a tension most leadership literature ignores:


What do you do when you're already excellent?


His schools: 100% graduation rate. 100% college-going rate. A-rated performance. Students graduating from high school with associate degrees and millions in scholarships.


By every conventional metric? Crushing it.


So here's her question:


"How do you pursue continuous improvement when the organization perceives itself as already excellent? More pointedly: Do I function as superintendent to facilitate growth—or do I represent interference preventing an already-excellent system from maintaining its performance?"

This is the question that leaders of high-performing institutions never publicly ask because it sounds like hubris.


But it's the most important question for sustainable excellence:


How do you move from A to A+ when your team thinks A is the ceiling?


Gordon Amerson Ed.D. (Superintendent, Alvord Unified, California, and our roundtable moderator) synthesized it perfectly:


"Excellence is not a destination but a trajectory. Pursuit of excellence remains constant regardless of current performance level—whether you are far from excellence or operating at its current threshold."

High performance creates organizational conditions that inhibit continued improvement—confidence morphs into complacency, success validates existing practice, critique feels like ingratitude."


The leadership principle: Leaders of excellent organizations must cultivate perpetual productive dissatisfaction—appreciation for current accomplishment coupled with relentless pursuit of unrealized potential.


If you're already performing at A-level, the question isn't "are we good enough?"


The question is: "What does A+ look like, and are we pursuing it with the same intensity we used to reach A?"


Because here's the reality:


The market doesn't care that you're excellent by yesterday's standards. The market cares whether you're relevant to today's students.


And today's students? They have options your A-level performance didn't prepare for.


THE ECOSYSTEM PLAY: WHEN COMPETITORS BECOME COLLABORATORS


Here's where the roundtable shifted from diagnosis to disruption.


Dr. Matthew Flippen, President of Gracelyn University, described a model that should be obvious but somehow isn't:


The Para-Professional Pipeline


The problem: 300,000-600,000 teacher shortage nationwide, disproportionately impacting vulnerable students.


The resource: 1.2 million teacher assistants and para-professionals working in schools right now—people who demonstrably care about education (you don't work for $8-$12/hour unless you love kids), many of whom want teaching credentials but face insurmountable barriers.


Single parents. Economically vulnerable. Can't access traditional pathways requiring full-time enrollment and unaffordable tuition.


Matthew's solution: Can we design a pathway for a single mother earning $12/hour who can invest $100 monthly in education?

The math: $100/month = $44/credit hour.


The results after five years:


  • Full accreditation
  • 100% placement rate (students upskilling in existing positions)
  • 92% retention rate
  • 1,000+ students enrolled
  • Projected growth: 1,000-2,000 annually


Here's why this matters:


The moment Matthew finished explaining his model, superintendents started connecting dots:


Gordon Amerson immediately saw the "Round-Trip Ticket" strategy:


"Districts possess vested interest in reducing cost burdens for employees pursuing certification because we derive enormous benefit from placing fully-certified teachers who already know our students, culture, and community."

If you graduate from Alvord Unified, matriculate through our partner community college, we can employ you. As you pursue continued education, we supplement tuition costs because your professional growth directly benefits our organization and students."


Jason Morrison (Trinity Valley) reported they'd already launched this:


"This fall we launched our Bachelor of Applied Science in Early Childhood Education specifically targeting para-professionals. Many districts now fund tuition for their para-professionals. We enrolled 40 students; approximately 25% were already employed in regional school districts."

Do you see what just happened?


Three leaders—two superintendents and one college president—discovered a systemic solution to a shared problem by thinking as an ecosystem instead of as isolated institutions.


Nobody competed for market share. Nobody protected territorial boundaries. Nobody worried about enrollment cannibalization.


They asked: What do students and communities need that none of us can build alone—but together we could create?


That's the shift.


💡 "The most effective pathways eliminate artificial institutional boundaries that create friction in student progression."


THE APPLICATION: WHAT TO DO BEFORE YOUR NEXT CABINET MEETING


Alright. Enough diagnosis. Let's talk about Monday morning.


STEP 1: THE INTERFERENCE AUDIT (30 MINUTES)


Grab a whiteboard. Draw three columns:


  1. POTENTIAL – List your organization's actual capacity (talent, resources, programs, community support)
  2. PERFORMANCE – List your non-negotiable outcomes (the metrics your career depends on)
  3. INTERFERENCE – List everything preventing Column 1 from producing Column 2


Be brutally honest in Column 3:


  • Legacy processes consuming disproportionate time
  • Cultural norms inhibiting accountability
  • Structural misalignments between strategy and resources
  • Talent management systems that don't actually identify Builders
  • Meeting cultures that prioritize optics over outcomes


he strategic question: If you invested the next six months eliminating interference instead of adding potential, what would change?


STEP 2: THE TEAM INTELLIGENCE DIAGNOSTIC (15 MINUTES)


Map your leadership team:


  • Coasters (Low ambition, low idealism) – Who's comfortable with status quo?
  • Climbers (High ambition, low idealism) – Who optimizes wrong metrics?
  • Dreamers (High idealism, low ambition) – Who studies instead of executes?
  • Builders (High ambition, high idealism) – Who dismantles and constructs?


Now calculate: What percentage of your leadership energy goes to managing the first three categories versus empowering the fourth?


If it's more than 40% managing/redirecting/grounding, you have a talent allocation problem, not an execution problem.


STEP 3: THE ECOSYSTEM QUESTION (THIS IS THE UNCOMFORTABLE ONE)


Ask yourself:


"If I stopped optimizing my institution's enrollment and started optimizing my region's student success, what partnerships would I pursue? What territorial boundaries would I transcend? What 'competitors' would become collaborators?"

Then ask the follow-up:


"What's preventing me from making those calls this week?"


If the answer is "because we compete for the same students," you're optimizing for institutional preservation, not student success.


If the answer is "because our systems don't align," that's fixable. Make the call anyway.


If the answer is "because I don't know where to start," start by forwarding this newsletter to one leader in a different sector and saying: "Let's have coffee. I think we're solving the same problems in isolation."


OBJECTION HANDLING


"But we don't have time for this meta-conversation."


You just spent the last three months managing Coasters, redirecting Climbers, and grounding Dreamers while your Builders waited for permission to build.


You don't have time NOT to do this.


Also, this isn't meta. This is the actual work. The strategic planning you keep meeting about? That's the distraction.

The real work is building a team that can think together efficiently enough to actually execute the strategy you keep strategizing about.


You're not too busy to fix this. You're too busy BECAUSE of this.


"My team won't go for it."


Your team is currently "going for" individualized development that produces isolated competence while your actual challenges require collective capacity.


They're already bought into something—it's just not working.


The bar is on the floor. You're not asking them to do something dramatically different. You're asking them to stop doing something that's provably ineffective.


And while you're hesitating, enrollment decisions are being made by families who won't wait for your cabinet to align,

competitive institutions are moving faster, and your best teachers/faculty are wondering if leadership will ever actually lead.


THE MATURITY SHIFT: FROM FILTERS TO FOUNDATIONS


Immature leaders think: "We need better marketing to fix our enrollment problem." Mature leaders think: "We need to remove the Snapchat filter and address the systemic dysfunction our marketing is currently hiding."


Immature leaders optimize for: Looking good in accreditation reports. Mature leaders optimize for: Actually being good in ways students and communities experience daily.


Immature leaders believe: Adding capacity solves performance gaps. Mature leaders know: Adding capacity to dysfunction scales dysfunction—you must address interference first.


Immature leaders ask: "How do we compete better?" Mature leaders ask: "How do we collaborate to build what students need that none of us can create alone?"


Immature leaders defend: Institutional structures we inherited. Mature leaders build: Pathways students and communities require, even if it disrupts what we've always done.


The difference is the difference between defending and building.


One protects the past. One creates the future.


Students have already voted with their feet. 2.9 million of them walked away from traditional educational institutions in the last decade.


The only question remaining: Will you remove the filter and build what they actually need—or keep adjusting the lighting until the last student walks out?


YOUR TURN: THE QUESTION YOU CAN'T AVOID


Here's what I want you to do right now—before you close this newsletter and move to the next thing suffocating your inbox:

Answer this honestly:


"If a consultant observed your institution for one week—not your marketing materials, not your strategic plan, but your actual daily operations—what would disturb them most about the gap between what you project and what you produce?"

Be specific. Be vulnerable. Your honesty gives other leaders permission to name their own dysfunction.


I'll go first in comments. (And yes, my consultant WAS disturbed. That's how I know this framework works.)


Comment "FILTER" if the Snapchat Filter Effect describes your institution right now.


Tag a cabinet member who needs permission to name the dysfunction everyone knows exists but nobody discusses. Tell them specifically why you're tagging them.


Screenshot the Interference Audit formula (P = p - I) and text it to your CFO with just this message: "Tuesday's agenda just changed."


FOUND VALUE IN THIS? HERE'S HOW TO MULTIPLY IT:


Repost this with your Coaster Tax calculation or your honest answer to the consultant question. Tag DR. JOE HILL so I can see your assessment.


Tag a superintendent if you're higher ed, or tag a president if you're K-12 and propose coffee. Ecosystem thinking starts with one conversation across sectors.


Forward this to your cabinet with the subject line: "We need to talk about interference." Then actually talk about it.


The more leaders who shift from defending institutions to building what students need, the better our educational systems become.


Follow DR. JOE HILL and Higher Performance Group for weekly Team Intelligence insights that turn roundtable conversations into Monday morning resources.


WANT THE SCIENCE BEHIND THIS?


Everything in this newsletter is grounded in research across 987 leadership teams.


The data is clear: 60% of organizations operate at barely half their potential capacity despite having individually brilliant team members.


The gap? It's not talent. It's Team Intelligence—the operating system that transforms individual brilliance into breakthrough collective performance.


Download the full Team Intelligence Whitepaper to see:


  • The Three-Intelligence Framework (IQ × EQ × PQ = TQ)
  • Why teams with balanced cognitive representation outperform homogeneous teams by 40% in problem resolution
  • Case studies from Sourcewell Cooperative ($13B in cooperative purchasing) and Gateway Community College (#1 in Arizona)
  • The five cognitive approaches essential for breakthrough performance
  • Implementation protocols you can deploy immediately


Get the whitepaper here: https://www.higherperformancegroup.com/team-intelligence-assessment

It's free. It's research-backed. And it might explain why your last three strategic initiatives died between the VP of Finance and the VP of Academic Affairs.


GET THE WHITEPAPER HERE


NEXT ISSUE: "THE ROUND-TRIP TICKET: WHY YOUR BEST TALENT PIPELINE IS WEARING A LANYARD AND MAKING $12/HOUR"


We'll explore why workforce development strategies that start with recruitment campaigns are like trying to find your soulmate on dating apps when your best match is already in your contacts—you just haven't called them yet because they're in the "para-professional" folder instead of "potential leaders."


Spoiler: The teacher shortage isn't a talent problem. It's a barrier problem. And you have way more power to remove those barriers than whoever designed your hiring process wants you to believe.


(Hint: It involves thinking like Matthew Flippen, acting like Gordon Amerson, and having the courage Jason Morrison demonstrated in January of Year 2—when most leaders are still smiling pretty and listening carefully.)


P.S. – ABOUT THAT ROUNDTABLE...


If you're thinking "I need to be in conversations like this with peers who are actually building, not just defending," here's your invitation:


Next Peer-to-Peer Leadership Roundtable: February 4, 2026 | 10:30-11:30 AM CST


REGISTER HERE: https://us06web.zoom.us/webinar/register/9417613317373/WN_qkTP4lWNTfSycggS_ZFKnw#/registration

Who should attend: Superintendents and College/University Presidents who are tired of competing and ready to collaborate. Public and private sectors both welcome.


The only requirement: demonstrated commitment to building what students need, not defending what institutions want.

See you in February—or in the comments below.


Keep your dukes up.

— Joe


Do you want more leadership topics and guides?

Join THE GROUP


An online community for higher education leaders, where we offer a library of lessons and guides that can be utilized during your leadership sessions and other resources.

JOIN THE GROUP

Help Spread the Word

If you found value in this post, we’d love your help spreading the word! Please consider sharing this on your favorite social media platform and tag Higher Performance Group and Dr. Joe Hill. Your support helps us reach and inspire more awesome people like you!

Like What You've Read?


Get practical, research-based ideas to Accelerate Higher Team Performance delivered straight to your inbox every Tuesday.

More Blog Articles

By HPG Info August 3, 2026
K-12 or higher ed — same grave, same fight, and where we actually stand on it. Every August, someone in a lanyard stands in front of a room full of exhausted adults — a superintendent at convocation, a provost at the fall address — and says some version of “this is the year everything changes.” Everyone claps. Nobody believes it. By October, both rooms are right back where they started, for the exact same structural reason, just wearing different institutional colors. You know the K-12 version of the grave: the PD-day initiative that had its own hashtag in August and hasn't been mentioned since the first snow day. You know the higher-ed version: the strategic plan the board approved 7-0, the one nobody on the provost's council could name a completed goal from by homecoming. Same grave. Different landscaping. Here's what should actually keep you pacing in your office more than enrollment or the sub shortage. Gallup's 2023 workforce data puts global disengagement at 62% . MIT's Human Dynamics Lab found fragmented teams burn up to 60% of their energy on coordination — meetings about meetings, not the work. Harvard economist Sendhil Mullainathan's research on scarcity found that operating under constant shortage costs the brain the functional equivalent of 13 IQ points . Thirteen. That's the gap between your sharpest VP and someone who forgot the agenda. One more, because it should make you genuinely angry: training-transfer research going back three decades puts the share of professional learning that ever makes it into practice at under 10% . Every PD day. Every retreat. Every conference you sent three people to in July. You're not underfunding development. You're funding an extremely expensive form of forgetting. None of this is a motivation problem. Your people aren't lazy or allergic to change. They're operating inside a system quietly taxing them on seven fronts before they've poured their first cup of coffee in the building. And if it doesn't get named this year, it isn't just this year that pays for it. It's whoever inherits your seat. It's the kid in the back row, the freshman three weeks into a dorm, the faculty member who stopped raising a hand two years ago and nobody noticed. The cost has names. So here's where we stand, plainly, because none of this works if you don't know it. WE ARE FOR HEALTHY TEAMS AND HIGHLY RELIABLE SYSTEMS. That's the HPG brand, in five words. WE ARE AGAINST THE SYSTEMS THAT ACCELERATE BURNOUT — the ones that train your best people to mistake exhaustion for commitment, reward the loudest voice over the best idea, and quietly bill the people who care most for continuing to care. Not the board. Not the budget. THE SYSTEM itself. We didn't build this to run another workshop. We built it to fight for both ends of that equation — the leader carrying it, and the kid, the freshman, the faculty member on the other side who never got a vote in how well the system was built. Pick a side. We already have. Here's what FOR actually looks like, not hypothetically — we've watched it happen close to a thousand times. The Tuesday cabinet meeting ends on time. The VP who started emailing ideas instead of saying them out loud starts saying them out loud again. The plan from August is still alive in October — audible, not filed. That's not a culture initiative. That's a highly reliable system, doing what it's supposed to do. It starts with knowing, precisely, which of seven forces is your leak. Not guessing. Not a hallway read. Next week, you find out which one is yours. I'm opening The Burnout Force Check — three minutes, seven forces, your own honest number. It isn't live yet. It opens next week, right here.  Message me personally, and I'll make sure you're first through the door — doesn't matter which lanyard you're wearing. Follow DR. JOE HILL and Higher Performance Group
By HPG Info July 27, 2026
Why the seven forces driving burnout in your cabinet move exactly the way a piano does — and why the room adjusts to the wrongness long before anyone names it. Twenty years ago, I moved my family away from everything they knew. Not across town. Across area codes — away from the school where I was principal, away from grandparents, away from the only bedrooms my three kids had ever slept in, away from every friendship they'd built since kindergarten. I told my wife it was the right move for our family. I still believe that. But telling a nine-year-old “this is the right move for our family” lands about as well as telling your cabinet a reorg is the right move for the institution. Correct. Unpersuasive. Deeply unwelcome. So we did what desperate, loving parents do. Ice cream. A puppy negotiation I'm still not proud of. And one purchase that turned out to matter more than either: a baby grand piano for the new house. That piano is still in my living room. Twenty years, three kids, and a tuner later — a woman who showed up twice a year for over a decade and never once used the word “burnout” — here's what she taught me about running a cabinet, without ever meaning to. A piano doesn't fail all at once. It drifts. One string at a time, one season at a time, so slowly that everyone living inside the house adjusts to the wrongness without ever naming it. Your leadership team is doing the exact same thing right now. And the people closest to it — the ones playing it every single day — are the last people on earth who'll hear it. THE DIAGNOSIS · NOTHING BROKE. IT DRIFTED. Let's talk about drift like adults who've sat through enough strategic planning retreats to know the difference between a crisis and a slow leak. When's the last time a VP in your cabinet pushed back — and meant it? Nobody's cabinet collapses on a Tuesday. What actually happens is smaller and slower: the VP who used to push back in meetings stops pushing back. The initiative that launched with real energy in August is, by February, running on habit and a group chat nobody reads anymore. The meeting that used to run ninety minutes now runs sixty — not because anyone got more efficient, but because half the room quietly decided the extra thirty minutes of honesty wasn't worth it. None of that shows up on a dashboard. It shows up the way a piano goes flat — not as an event, but as an accumulation. By the time someone finally names it (usually a board member, not gently), you're not looking at one broken string. You're looking at an instrument nobody's tuned in two years, and a room full of good people who adjusted to the wrongness because it arrived one cent at a time. (This is the part where I'm supposed to tell you to “communicate more.” You already knew that. The real problem isn't communication. It's that nobody in your cabinet has a name for what's actually going wrong — so everyone quietly assumes it's just them.) Structure is never neutral. Every system is a self-portrait of whoever built it — and most of yours was painted before you ever took the seat. ❞ Which means the villain was never the people in the room. Individual brilliance, individual empathy, individual self-awareness — all present, all functioning. Multiply eight individually excellent people by a system nobody's maintaining, and the output doesn't hold. That's not a people problem. That's structural neglect wearing a people costume. What looks like burnout in your cabinet is usually the rational response of a capable person inside a broken system. ❞ (This is the exact gap Burnout Force was built to name — not another framework asking your cabinet to try harder individually, but a diagnostic for the structural neglect sitting underneath what looks like burnout. Seven forces, seven distinct mechanisms, each requiring its own fix — the same way a tuner never fixes “the piano,” she fixes one string at a time. More on all seven in a moment.) THE PIANO TUNING METHOD — OR WHY SEVEN FORCES, NOT ONE A piano has seven notes before the octave repeats. Do, Re, Mi, Fa, Sol, La, Ti. Seven distinct tones, each capable of going wrong in its own particular way, each requiring its own fix. A tuner doesn't fix “the piano” — she fixes seven specific things, one string tension at a time. Here's the part most people miss: the seventh string never sounds right until the first one's fixed. Burnout Force works the same way. Not one villain. Seven — each with a distinct mechanism, each recognizable once you know what you're listening for. 1 · Fragmentation — Unisons, Out of Sync Most piano notes aren't a single string — they're two or three strings tuned to the exact same pitch, meant to ring as one voice. Drift even slightly apart, and the note doesn't go silent. It goes blurry. Chorused. Technically playing, technically wrong. That's Fragmentation: a cabinet where everyone's still showing up, still contributing, and the collective sound is somehow muddier than any one of them alone. 2 · Exhaustion — String Tension Under Constant Load Piano wire doesn't need to be struck to lose its tension. Sustained load alone, with no release, causes metal fatigue — the string goes flat just from sitting there under pressure. There's an old performance formula worth borrowing here: performance equals potential, minus interference. Not potential plus effort. Your best people are going flat the same way — not from one hard day, but from load with no release, for long enough that flat becomes their normal. 3 · Isolation — Notes That Won't Resonate Together Piano strings produce overtones — secondary frequencies that aren't perfectly clean multiples of the main pitch. Tuners call this inharmonicity: individually well-tuned notes can still clash rather than support each other in a chord. A cabinet can be full of individually excellent leaders who still don't resonate together, because nobody ever tuned them to each other. (Coal miners didn't bring a canary into the mine for company — they brought it as an instrument. When the person who used to drive every meeting suddenly goes quiet in the back row, that's not an attitude problem. That's a reading coming off the instrument.) 4 · Scarcity — Compensation That Crowds the Room When a piano is stretched to compensate for inharmonicity, one note's resonance can crowd out another's — more presence for one string at the expense of the one beside it. Scarcity is the belief that someone else's win is quietly your loss. It's rarely true. It's a tuning problem mistaken for a competition. 5 · Comparison — The Sound of Two Things Measured Against Each Other When two strings are close but not exactly matched, you hear an actual physical pulsing — tuners call it a “beat.” It's the audible result of two things being judged against each other instead of each being allowed to be itself. Comparison in a cabinet works the same way: audible, measurable, and it doesn't resolve on its own. 6 · Noise — Losing the Reference Point Every piano is tuned from one reference octave first — usually the one built around middle C — and everything else is set relative to it. If that reference is never revisited, the whole instrument can be internally consistent with itself and still be wrong, because the one thing everything else depends on was never checked. That's Noise: a cabinet that's stopped returning to its actual reference point and started tuning to whatever's loudest that week. 7 · Drift — The One That Doesn't Announce Itself And then there's the one nobody has to cause. Piano tuners genuinely use this word: drift — the slow, seasonal, nobody-touched-anything loss of pitch that happens just from humidity and temperature changing in the room. No event. No single decision. Just time, and an environment nobody adjusted for. This is the force behind the other six — and the one every leader I know insists could never happen to them, right up until the year it does. WHY FOUR, LIVE — THE AMPLIFICATION ENGINE Here's the part most burnout content skips: not all seven forces are equally random. Four of them are the causal engine — they manufacture the other three. Fragmentation produces Exhaustion (coordinating around broken structure is its own kind of tired). Exhaustion produces Isolation (depleted people stop reaching for each other; reaching itself becomes the thing they can no longer afford). Isolation produces Scarcity (a cabinet that's stopped resonating together starts believing there isn't enough credit, attention, or budget to go around). And Scarcity feeds straight back into Fragmentation — louder, the second time through. Comparison, Noise, and Drift sit downstream of all four. Fix the engine, and the other three get dramatically easier for your own people to spot and name themselves. You cannot fix the seventh string by tightening it harder. You fix the first one, and the seventh gets easier to hear. ❞ I didn't learn any of this from a leadership book. I learned it from the same tuner — never used the word “burnout,” never needed to. She just knew the instrument needed her back, regularly, not once and done. ❝ Your cabinet needs the same thing. Not a single retreat. Not one framework, delivered once, expected to hold. A tuner. A rhythm. Someone who comes back. ❞ THE APPLICATION · MONDAY MORNING Here's what to do Monday morning (assuming your cabinet isn't already visibly out of tune — in which case, start today): Step 1 — Name your loudest string. (15 minutes) Of the seven forces, which one is making the most noise in your cabinet right now? Don't overthink it. Your gut answer is usually the correct diagnosis your data hasn't caught up to yet. Step 2 — Ask your cabinet the “beat” question. (20 minutes, next meeting) Ask directly: “Where do two of us sound like we're being measured against each other instead of just doing our own job well?” That's Comparison, made audible. You'll hear the beat the moment someone answers honestly. Step 3 — Schedule the return visit. (5 minutes) A piano tuned once and never revisited drifts right back. Put a recurring cabinet health conversation on the calendar — quarterly, minimum. The tuner's value was never the single visit. It was the relationship. “We don't have time for this.” You're already spending time managing the symptoms of an out-of-tune cabinet — the redundant meetings, the parking-lot conversations, the initiative that quietly died in month four. That time is already being spent. You're just spending it on maintenance instead of tuning. “My team will think this is soft.” Nobody thinks a piano tuner is soft. She shows up with a very specific diagnosis for a very specific string, and the room sounds different when she leaves. Precision isn't soft. Vague inspiration is soft. This isn't that. THE MATURITY SHIFT Immature leaders think: “We need a retreat to fix morale.” Mature leaders think: “We need a rhythm to maintain the instrument.” Immature leaders wait for the piano to sound obviously wrong before calling anyone. Mature leaders schedule the tuner before the drift is audible to the room. The uncomfortable truth: your cabinet didn't break. It drifted — one string, one season, one quiet accommodation at a time — and nobody wrote it down because nothing dramatic ever happened on any single day. The optimistic reframe: drift is the one force that responds completely to maintenance. You don't need a new piano. You need someone who comes back. Your worth was never conditional on the note holding perfectly. It just needs someone willing to notice when it doesn't — and come back. ❞ Your turn: Which of the seven strings is out of tune in your cabinet right now? Name it in the comments — the word is enough. Tag the person on your team who'd hear it the second you said it out loud. BURNOUT FORCE Burnout Force is the name for what's actually happening — seven specific, researched forces, each with its own mechanism, each solvable once it's named correctly. The keynote fights the first four, live, together, with your cabinet in the room — the causal engine, the ones everything else grows out of. The book carries all seven, in full, with the research behind each one, so your team can finish the tune-up without me there. This isn't another framework to add to the pile you already haven't implemented. It's a diagnostic — built from work across 987 leadership teams in 43 states — for naming precisely which of the seven forces is loudest in your institution right now, and what actually reverses it. 📊 3x performance improvement · 29% higher engagement · 27% better organizational outcomes · zero increase in burnout — because these teams stopped treating exhaustion as a personal failing and started treating it as a structural, solvable problem. If you already know which string is out of tune in your cabinet, the conversation about whether Burnout Force is the right next step for your institution is a short one. Book 30 minutes and let's have it. higherperformancegroup.com/burnout-force FOUND VALUE IN THIS? Help another leader hear their own drift: → Repost with the force that's loudest in your cabinet right now. → Tag a leader who'd recognize this the moment they read it. → Comment with the last time something on your team went quietly out of tune — and nobody said anything for months.  The more leaders who learn to hear the drift before the crisis, the fewer institutions have to relearn this the hard way. Follow DR. JOE HILL and Higher Performance Group for weekly Team Intelligence insights.
Show More