Higher Performance Insights | GO TO THE ANT, YOU S-WORD?

December 2, 2025
higher performance insights

When Ancient Wisdom Calls Out Your Cabinet Meeting


Three thousand years ago, King Solomon looked at lazy people and said, "Go watch the ants work. Maybe you'll learn something."


Harsh? Maybe. Accurate? Absolutely.


But here's what Solomon didn't know—and what your leadership team desperately needs to understand: The ant's genius isn't that it works hard. It's that the colony has an operating system your brilliant cabinet doesn't.


An individual ant has roughly 250,000 neurons. Your CFO has 86 billion. By any measure, your CFO is 340,000 times smarter than an ant.


Yet somehow, when you put those ants into a colony, they solve complex routing problems, allocate labor dynamically, adapt to environmental changes, and make collective decisions that consistently optimize for survival.


Meanwhile, your cabinet—filled with people 340,000x smarter than any ant—just spent three hours in a meeting and made zero decisions. Again.


Here's the profound part nobody in leadership wants to admit: The ants' intelligence doesn't emerge because individual ants got smarter. It emerges because of how they interact.


Your cabinet? You've hired smarter and smarter ants. Sent them to better development programs. Given them corner offices and impressive titles.


But you've never built the colony operating system.


73% of educational leadership teams in our study have higher individual IQ than collective intelligence. You're paying for genius and getting group project energy where everyone did their part, but nobody read anyone else's sections.


Solomon told sluggards to go to the ant. I'm telling brilliant-but-stuck leaders the exact same thing.


Comment "COLONY" if you've spent the last year hiring smarter ants and wondering why the colony isn't building anything.


THE DIAGNOSIS: WHAT THE ANT KNOWS THAT YOUR PHDs DON'T


Let's talk about this like adults who've survived at least one strategic planning retreat that somehow produced a beautiful vision statement and zero change in how your team actually operates.


You know this meeting. I know you know it:


Your VP of Enrollment presents compelling market data about declining numbers. Solid analysis. Clear recommendations.

Your Chief Academic Officer immediately pivots: "We can't just chase numbers—we need to think about mission alignment."

(Translation: I'm the guardian of academic integrity, and your proposal feels transactional. Also, I went to grad school for this, not to run a business.)


Your CFO is already calculating ROI and asking about costs nobody's thought about yet.


(Translation: I'm the adult who understands we can't spend money we don't have. Also, I'm the only one who actually reads the audit reports.)


Your VP of Student Affairs is thinking about how this affects current students and whether anyone consulted them.


(Translation: While you all strategize in the abstract, I actually talk to students. You know, the humans this is supposedly about?)


Four brilliant perspectives. Each one valid. Each one advocating with genuine expertise.


Zero synthesis. Zero integration. Zero collective intelligence.


The meeting ends with everyone agreeing to "explore this further"—professional code for "we'll have this exact conversation in three weeks, except everyone will be slightly more exhausted."


What actually happened? You had four separate monologues performed simultaneously. Four individual ants wandering in circles, each following their own pheromone trail, wondering why the colony isn't building anything.


The ants don't do this. They can't afford to. A colony that operates like your cabinet meeting would be extinct in a week.


The Loneliness of Seeing the Whole Nest


I know the loneliness of being the leader in this moment.


Of feeling like you're the only one who can see the whole nest while everyone else optimizes their individual tunnel.


Of wondering if you're the problem because surely—SURELY—other leadership teams have figured out how to think collectively instead of just politely taking turns thinking individually.


Of going home exhausted, not from hard work but from the emotional labor of being the only person trying to synthesize perspectives that should integrate naturally if you just had the right operating system.


But here's what nobody tells you at leadership conferences: You're not the problem. You're trying to solve a colony problem with an ant solution.


You keep hiring smarter ants. Sending them to better development programs. But individual ants—no matter how brilliant—can't solve problems that require colony-level intelligence.


Solomon wasn't telling sluggards to work harder. He was telling them to work smarter—specifically, to work like a system rather than as isolated individuals.


(This is actually why I created The GROUP—a free community where insights like this become Leader CORE Lessons you can deploy Monday morning. Because translating the ant paradox into Tuesday's cabinet meeting without an implementation guide is how good insights die in conference rooms. But I'm getting ahead of myself.)


When Individual Genius Meets Collective Mediocrity


Let me tell you about a community college president I'll call Marcus (not his real name, but Marcus, you know exactly which budget meeting made you finally admit your Avengers had never actually assembled).


Marcus had a dream team on paper. CFO with an MBA from a top program. Chief Academic Officer with a track record of innovation. VP of Student Affairs who'd turned around retention twice before.


Individual excellence? Off the charts. Each ant was brilliant—340,000 times smarter than the insects Solomon was watching.

Cabinet meetings? Marcus described them as "watching brilliant people talk past each other in high definition while the institution slowly loses momentum."


Someone would present an idea. Three others would immediately explain why it wouldn't work from their domain perspective. Decisions got made through exhaustion, not synthesis. Implementation was inconsistent because everyone left with different interpretations.


The colony wasn't building anything. The ants were just wandering in increasingly frustrated circles.


Marcus tried what you've probably tried: More communication training. Better meeting structures. Expensive retreat with a consultant who taught them "active listening."


He sent people to individual development programs. Each person came back smarter, more skilled, better equipped—individually.


Nothing changed collectively.


Because Marcus was still breeding smarter ants when he needed to build colony intelligence. He was solving an operating system problem with a personnel solution.


Tag the cabinet member who came back from their last conference excited and exhausted—whose brilliant insights somehow died in your first meeting back.


THE FRAMEWORK: THE ANT PARADOX EQUATION


Call this the Ant Paradox. Or don't. Either way, it'll explain why your brilliant cabinet consistently operates at 60% capacity—and what actually changes the equation.


P = (p - i) (TQ)


Performance equals potential minus interference, X Team Intelligence.


This isn't new-age fluff. This is the mathematical expression of what Solomon observed three millennia ago when he watched ants outperform humans at collective work.


1. Your Potential Is Already There (The Ants Are Already Smart Enough)


Think about your cabinet. Combined decades of experience. Multiple advanced degrees. Proven track records.


Individually? Everyone's operating at 7-8 out of 10.


Collectively? Your team is operating at 4-5 out of 10 of actual capacity.


That 40% gap? That's not a personnel problem. That's the difference between individual ants and colony intelligence. And you can't close it by hiring better ants.


Solomon didn't tell sluggards to become smarter. He told them to observe how already-smart-enough ants become collectively brilliant through their operating system.


Your problem isn't insufficient individual intelligence. Your problem is the absence of protocols that turn individual intelligence into collective genius.


2. The Interference Is Killing Your Colony


Every time your CFO and CAO have their polite disagreement about fiscal sustainability versus academic mission—without any framework for how both can be true simultaneously—that's interference.


Every time someone leaves a meeting unclear about who actually decides what, that's interference.

Every time perspectives collide instead of integrate, that's interference.


Interference isn't drama. It's the friction that happens when high-performing individuals lack the operating system to become a high-performing collective.


The ant colony solved this with pheromone trails—simple communication protocols that turn one ant's discovery into colony-level action.


When one ant finds food, it doesn't schedule a meeting to discuss optimal resource allocation. It doesn't form a committee to study implementation. It doesn't send three follow-up emails clarifying the decision-making process.


It leaves a chemical trail. Other ants follow it. The colony eats.


Simple protocol. Zero interference. Maximum collective intelligence.


You need the human equivalent.


3. Team Intelligence Is the Operating System


Here's where 99% of leadership development completely misses Solomon's point:


They try to make each individual better at communication. Better at strategy. Better at whatever competency is trending. They're breeding smarter ants.


But TQ isn't about making individuals better. It's about creating conditions where your team's collective intelligence exceeds the sum of its parts.


━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━


"The ant colony has foragers, soldiers, nurses, builders—specialized roles working in concert. Your team needs the same: diverse perspectives with integration protocols."


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The breakthrough isn't getting your CFO to become more emotionally intuitive or your Student Affairs VP to become more financially analytical.


The breakthrough is creating the operating system where all perspectives integrate into decisions better than any single leader could make alone.


That's what the ants have that you don't: Not smarter individuals. Smarter interaction protocols.


That's what Solomon saw that you've missed: The wisdom isn't in the ant. It's in how the ants work together.


Marcus Built the Colony Operating System


Marcus finally understood what Solomon was saying three thousand years ago: His team didn't need to work harder. They needed to work like a colony instead of isolated individuals.


His team took the Team Intelligence assessment. (Results were humbling. His CFO: "Well, this explains why I leave every meeting feeling like I'm the only one who gets it"—which, plot twist, everyone else was also thinking.)


They were operating at Level 7-8 individually but Level 3 collectively. High individual IQ, catastrophically low team operating system.


They had brilliant ants with no pheromone trails.


Here's what changed:


Communication protocols—not "let's communicate better" platitudes, but actual rhythms for how perspectives integrate before decisions get made. Simple. Clear. Executable.


When presenting a recommendation, include the perspective of at least two other roles. When someone presents, the next person synthesizes before adding. When we disagree, we state what would make both perspectives true before choosing.


Decision rights—so people stopped treating every decision like it needed consensus. The ant colony doesn't vote on where to build the nest. It has clear protocols for when different roles engage.


They mapped their top 10 decision types. Assigned clear rights. Watched 40% of meeting time vanish because they'd stopped having colony-level conversations about ant-level decisions.


Thinking out loud together—not performative agreement, but actual cognitive diversity where "this is financially impossible" and "this is pedagogically essential" became inputs into a solution neither could see alone.


Six months later: Same people. Same budget constraints. Same enrollment pressures.


Cabinet meetings went from three hours of polite disagreement to 90 minutes of actual decision-making. Not because they agreed more—because they'd built the operating system for integrating disagreement into better solutions.


Decisions got made faster, implemented more consistently, and actually stuck. Not because individuals got smarter—because the team got smarter.


Marcus got 14 hours per week back.


They stopped trying to hire smarter ants. They built the colony operating system that turned brilliant individuals into collective intelligence.


They finally went to the ant. Considered its ways. And became wise.


Revolutionary? No. Obvious? Yes, once you see it. Common? Based on 987 leadership teams—absolutely not.


Now, if you're thinking "this makes perfect sense, but how do I actually facilitate the 'build our operating system' conversation with my cabinet on Tuesday without it turning into another meeting about meetings?"—I get it.


That's the gap between insight and implementation.


This is what The GROUP is for.


Each week, I turn the newsletter topic into a Leader CORE Lesson and Guide: facilitation notes, discussion prompts, the Team Intelligence diagnostic, team exercises for building your operating system—everything you need to lead your team through this content without spending Sunday night trying to translate ant colonies into something your CFO won't roll their eyes at.


It's free (because charging you to learn how ants solved this problem 100 million years ago would be peak irony), built for busy leaders who need practical resources, not more theory, and designed for Monday morning meetings when you're already exhausted.


Grab this week's Ant Paradox implementation guide: https://www.higherperformancegroup.com/the-group

But whether you join The GROUP or not, here's what you can implement immediately...


THE APPLICATION: BUILDING YOUR COLONY OPERATING SYSTEM (MONDAY MORNING EDITION)


Here's what to do Monday morning (assuming your cabinet isn't already in crisis mode from the three decisions you didn't make last week):


STEP 1: The Ant Paradox Audit (20 minutes)


At your next cabinet meeting, before diving into the seventeen urgent items everyone brought, put this on the agenda:


"Solomon told sluggards to go to the ant because the ant had something they didn't. I'm going to suggest we have the same problem. Let's run a diagnostic.


On a scale of 1-10, rate two things:


1. How smart is each person on this team individually? 2. How smart are we as a collective when solving complex problems together?"


Write down answers privately. Then go around the room.


What you'll discover:


If Question 1 averages 7-8 and Question 2 averages 3-4, congratulations—you've just discovered you have brilliant ants with no colony operating system.


If everyone rates both questions equally high, someone's lying (probably the person who scheduled three sidebar conversations before this meeting to "align" because they don't trust the group process).


If answers vary wildly, you don't have shared understanding of whether you're even trying to build colony intelligence or just managing individual ants more efficiently.


The diagnostic question: "Are we breeding smarter ants, or are we building a smarter colony?"


If you don't know the answer, you're doing the first thing while hoping for the second. Solomon wouldn't be impressed.


STEP 2: The Pheromone Trail Mapping Exercise (25 minutes)


This one's uncomfortable but worth it:


"The ant colony's intelligence lives in its pheromone trails—the communication protocols that turn one ant's discovery into colony-level action. Let's map our equivalent.


Think about the last major decision we made. How did information actually flow? Who talked to whom? Whose perspective never made it into the final decision?"


Draw it on a whiteboard. Literally map it.


You'll probably discover one of three patterns:


Pattern A - The Hub and Spoke: Everyone talks to you, but not to each other. You're trying to be the central processor for the entire colony. This is why you're exhausted. The ant colony doesn't work this way because it can't scale.


Pattern B - The Siloed Clusters: Your CFO and VP of Operations talk. Your CAO and Student Affairs VP talk. But the two clusters never integrate. You have two colonies pretending to be one.


Pattern C - The Random Chaos: Information flows based on whoever happens to run into whom in the hallway. Your "operating system" is geographic proximity and scheduling luck.


None of these creates colony intelligence. They create very busy, very frustrated individual ants who are each 340,000 times smarter than actual ants but producing worse collective results.


Now ask: "What would our pheromone trails need to look like for information from one perspective to actually inform action across the whole team?"


Don't solve it yet. Just name what's missing. That gap between your current communication pattern and actual colony intelligence? That's your TQ deficit.


That's what Solomon saw three thousand years ago that you're just now discovering.


OBJECTION HANDLING


"But we don't have time to think about ant colonies when we have actual crises to manage."


You have crises BECAUSE you don't have colony intelligence. You're managing the same problems repeatedly because you've never built the operating system that would solve them collectively.


Also, you just spent three hours in a cabinet meeting that produced zero decisions. You have 14 hours per week trapped in meeting cycles that don't work. You don't have time NOT to build this.


The ants figured this out while also building nests, farming food, and defending against predators. You can figure it out while managing enrollment and budgets.


Solomon didn't tell busy people to go to the ant. He told sluggards—people who were working but getting nowhere. That's the diagnostic: Are you working, or are you building?


THE MATURITY SHIFT


❌ Immature leaders think: "I need to hire smarter people." ✅ Mature leaders think: "I need to build the operating system that makes my smart people collectively brilliant."


❌ Immature leaders optimize individual ants. They send people to development programs, hire consultants for better communication, add more expertise to the table, and wonder why team performance stays flat. ✅ Mature leaders build colony intelligence. They create interaction protocols, communication rhythms, and decision-making frameworks that turn brilliant individuals into collective genius.


❌ Immature leaders believe: "If everyone just did their part better, we'd get better results." ✅ Mature leaders know: "If we built better integration protocols, doing our parts would produce exponential results."


The sluggard works hard but gets nowhere. The wise person goes to the ant, considers its ways, and builds differently.

The difference is the difference between breeding smarter ants and building a smarter colony.


One keeps you busy managing individual performance. One makes impossible inevitable because you've unlocked the collective intelligence that was always there—you just never built the operating system to access it.


━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━


"You have smarter ants than the ants do. You just don't have their colony operating system. And until you build it, you'll keep hiring smarter individuals while getting the same mediocre collective results."


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The ant paradox isn't a cute nature metaphor. It's a brutal diagnosis of why your brilliant cabinet consistently underperforms its potential.


Solomon saw it three thousand years ago. The ants figured it out 100 million years ago. You're still trying to solve it with better meeting agendas and individual development programs.


That's not a personnel problem. It's an operating system problem. And unlike your budget constraints or enrollment challenges, this one is 100% within your control to fix.


YOUR TURN: THE QUESTION SOLOMON ASKED THREE THOUSAND YEARS AGO


Think about your last major decision as a cabinet. Honest assessment—did you synthesize multiple perspectives into something better than any single view? Or did you average perspectives into a compromise that satisfied no one?


Did you work like a colony? Or like individual ants wandering in circles while calling it collaboration?


Drop a comment with your cabinet's Ant Paradox score: Rate individual intelligence 1-10, then collective intelligence 1-10. Post both numbers.


Let's see how many brilliant leadership teams are operating at ant-level collective intelligence.


Tag the cabinet member who you think sees this pattern too. Or screenshot the ant paradox section and text it to your CFO with the message "We need to talk about Tuesday's meeting."


P.S. IF YOU'RE THINKING "I DON'T HAVE TIME TO TURN THIS INTO A TEAM MEETING RESOURCE"


I already did it for you.


The GROUP is a free community where every newsletter becomes a ready-to-deploy Leader CORE Lesson and Guide. Facilitation notes. Discussion prompts. Team exercises. The Team Intelligence diagnostic that shows your team exactly where their operating system breaks down.


JOIN THE GROUP: https://www.higherperformancegroup.com/the-group

Think of it as the meal kit version of team development. I prep the ingredients and recipe. You just facilitate. Your team gets fed. Everybody wins.


Plus, you get access to hundreds of campus leaders who are also trying to eliminate their performance gaps and understand why their last cabinet meeting went sideways. The implementation guides save you hours. The peer conversations? Those might save your sanity.


FOUND THIS VALUABLE?

The LinkedIn algorithm won't show this to your network unless YOU share it:


→ Repost with YOUR Ant Paradox score (individual IQ vs. collective IQ—be honest) → Tag 3 cabinet members trapped in the meeting cycle → Comment: "COLONY" if you're ready to build the operating system

Tag DR. JOE HILL and Higher Performance Group in your repost.


(LinkedIn's algorithm prioritizes posts that generate tags and reposts in first 2 hours. Help other leaders discover this.)

The more leaders who shift from individual heroics to team intelligence, the better our educational systems become.

Follow DR. JOE HILL and Higher Performance Group  for weekly Team Intelligence insights.


NEXT ISSUE: "Your Cabinet Is The Avengers (If Nobody Watched Each Other's Movies)"



We'll explore why your all-star leadership team operates like superheroes who've never fought together—each one brilliant in isolation, each one solving problems with their signature move, but with zero coordination when the real battle starts.

Spoiler: You're not having a talent problem. You're having an integration problem, and no amount of individual superpowers fixes a team that's never learned to assemble.


Do you want more leadership topics and guides?

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More Blog Articles

By HPG Info • October 13, 2026
Eight principles from superintendents and college presidents across eight states on leading through hard seasons, choosing the right seat, and staying grounded as pressure builds. On October 7, superintendents and college presidents from Alabama, Arizona, California, Michigan, Minnesota, Missouri, Ohio, and Washington gave an hour of the busiest month of the fall to a question most leaders carry alone: What do builders do when the season gets hard? The session was planned around a framework. The room turned it into something closer to group counsel. Leaders in strong seasons stayed to hear from leaders in harder ones, and leaders who had come through a hard stretch explained how they did it. The hour produced eight practical principles worth sharing with others in the same good fight. This paper records what they built: eight principles, the evidence behind each one, and a question for every cabinet in the country to take into its next meeting. EXECUTIVE SUMMARY The superintendency and the college presidency are carrying more weight than at any point in a generation. Superintendent turnover sits well above pre-pandemic norms. The average presidency is nearly three years shorter than it was in 2006. More than one in three superintendents report recent threats. Under that weight, the biggest decisions of a career (stay, step, or leave) usually get made alone, inside the hardest weeks, with nobody checking the read. HPG calls this the Lonely Leader Loop. It's a flaw in how the seat is built, and the roundtable exists to break it. The room produced eight principles: See below. THE CONTEXT · A PROFESSION CARRYING MORE WEIGHT 23% of the nation's 500 largest districts changed superintendents in a single recent year, against a pre-pandemic norm of 14 to 16% 5.9 years is the average college presidency, down from 8.5 in 2006 1 in 3+ superintendents in a national survey said they had recently been threatened or felt threatened 63% said they or people close to them were increasingly worried about superintendents' well-being Resignation is now the largest single category of superintendent departure. Some of those exits are the right call. What concerns me is how the call gets made: at 11:40 on a Sunday night, alone, with the board packet open. From the inside, a hard season and a wrong seat feel identical. You're tired, your patience runs short, and Sunday night starts around 2 p.m. on Saturday. They call for opposite responses. A hard season asks for patience and support. A wrong seat asks for redesign. I know that night from the inside. In 2013, a year after my own superintendency was running at a five, a new board majority and a pulmonary embolism arrived in the same season. My doctor told me I should not have survived. When I recovered, I rode a bicycle around Lake Superior, against medical advice, stopping at every campus and district office along the way to ask what they were proud of. I called it the Persuade Me Tour. I needed someone to persuade me the work was still worth my life. They did. The conversations that started on that ride became THE PROOF, a keynote built on nearly 200 on-camera interviews with K-12 and higher education leaders. It names ten traits of a Builder. The October roundtable worked the first one: telling a hard season from the wrong seat. We opened with a pulse check. On a fist-to-five scale, from a fist for a season knocking the floorboards out to five for never better, most hands showed a mix of responses. That detail matters. Groups of educators tend to gather around the ones and twos, and that empathy, useful for a moment, can keep a colleague in the hole longer. So the room named its good seasons without apology. Then the leaders in strong seasons spent the hour making the path clearer for everyone else. (That is a fair description of what a Builder does.) TQ IMPLICATION → When the season gets hard, most leaders reach for IQ: one more plan, one more credential. The room reached for the other two factors. EQ is the grace to sit with a shortfall without turning it into blame. PQ is the perceptual accuracy to tell a season from a seat, which almost nobody can do alone from inside one. TQ = IQ × EQ × PQ. Let perception drift toward zero and all the intelligence in the building multiplies into a confident wrong answer. (A quick word before the principles. How much of what makes a seat feel wrong comes from a cabinet that passes the weight upward? 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Dr. Rick Cobb , superintendent of Mid-Del Public Schools in the Oklahoma City metro, described a year on THE PROOF that tested him harder than 2020 did. He made no permanent decision from inside it. He stayed, and the year that followed became one of the best of his career. ❝ "The yuck never lasts. When I go, I want to go out on a YUM of a year." ❞ — Dr. Rick Cobb What the evidence adds. Chronic exhaustion tracks a mismatch between a person and the job across six areas: workload, control, reward, community, fairness, and values. Long hours alone predict it far less well. A hard season usually shows strain in one or two areas that can be expected to ease. A wrong seat shows a persistent gap in values or control that rest will not close. For your cabinet: Which of the six areas is carrying the strain on your team right now, and is it the kind that eases or the kind that stays? 02 · The Intentional Step The room spent real time on a move most leaders never consider: stepping sideways, or down a rung, to reach work that fits. Conventional career advice treats a smaller title as a setback. Leaders who had made the move described it as the turning point. They were candid about why it's hard: the blow to the ego, the worry about what colleagues will think, the stretch of not knowing what comes next. Several said the deciding voice belonged to someone close to them who reminded them the choice was bigger than one job or one place. Dr. Amy Diaz, EdD , president of GateWay Community College in Phoenix, told me on camera for THE PROOF that twenty-two years into her career, she recognized her role no longer fit her calling. She stayed in the field, stepped off the ladder, and moved into a different corner of the institution. That step sideways carried her to a presidency faster than the ladder would have. What the evidence adds. Research on professionals who reinvent their careers finds that successful moves rarely follow a plan worked out in advance. People test possible selves through small experiments, new networks, and roles that look like detours, and the new identity becomes clear in the doing. When the calling is intact and the gap is in the seat, a different seat in the same field is often the fix. For your cabinet: Who on your team is in the wrong seat in the right field, and what would a lateral move look like for them? 03 · Performance = Potential − Interference This equation anchors HPG's work. When things get hard, leaders load up on potential: a new initiative, a wider network, another credential. (This is how a strategic plan ends up with four new priorities and zero retirements.) Far less effort goes into naming the friction that drains the week and removing it. The room sharpened the point. Some interference can be mitigated and some cannot. A problem can be solved. A situation can't. Mortality is a situation, and a stakeholder fixed in permanent opposition may be one too. Treating a situation as a problem burns the energy a leader needs for the problems that will actually move. When a leader has done everything in their power and the interference still won't move, the question changes: is my staying helping this institution, or costing it? What the evidence adds. Decades of performance-coaching research point the same direction: removing what blocks people from capability they already have produces larger gains than stacking new capability on top of unresolved friction. Design researchers have a name for the unsolvable kind, gravity problems. When an obstacle can't be acted on, the advice is to accept it as a fact of life and move the effort elsewhere. For your cabinet: List the three biggest sources of friction in your week. Which are problems you can solve, and which are situations you need to stop trying to fix? 04 · Grace Belongs in the Equation A participant added a term the equation leaves out. Leaders who see the gap between their potential and their results need to extend grace to themselves first, then to their teams: sit with the shortfall, accept it, then line everyone back up for students and community. Grace is a discipline a leader practices personally before asking a team to practice it. The room drew a second implication. Every leader at that table makes decisions that change the season of someone else's career. The person who loses a role this year may be leading a campus or a district in ten. Hearing peers describe the decisions that shaped their own careers was, several said, a reminder to keep the human side in view when they are the ones deciding. What the evidence adds. In controlled experiments, people who responded to a failure with self-compassion were more motivated to improve, studied longer after a failed test, and were more committed to repairing a mistake than those who responded with self-criticism. The broader research links self-compassion to resilience without any drop in standards. Grace keeps people in the work long enough to get better at it. For your cabinet: When your team missed its last big target, what did you model first: grace or blame? 05 · A Calling Removes the Need to Prove The word vocation comes from the Latin vocare, to call. Don Killingbeck Jr., C.D.L., Ed.D. , superintendent of Hemlock Public Schools in Michigan, describes his work on THE PROOF as a calling and names what a calling lifts off a leader: the question of what you are trying to prove. Dr. John J. Sygielski 🏳️🌈 , president emeritus of HACC, Central Pennsylvania's Community College, describes the work as changing lives, destinies, and family trees. Nobody performs for a room when they are thinking about family trees. Several leaders described choosing education over more lucrative or prestigious paths, sometimes against the expectations of the people who raised them. Their stories differed. Their conclusion matched: the work pays in the difference it makes, and that payment keeps them in it. I offered the room a distinction between the "me" and the "I." The "me" is shaped by role, upbringing, hometown, and the power structure: where to sit, who to talk to, how to win. The "I" is the self that was called to the work in the first place. Every leader in these seats plays the "me" some, because the work is political. The more often the "I" makes the call, the more freedom leaders report. What the evidence adds. People who see their work as a calling report the highest life and work satisfaction and miss the fewest days of work, even compared with colleagues in the same occupation and pay grade. The risk runs the other way too. A leader who reads a bad season as proof the calling was wrong can walk away from the very orientation that was protecting them. For your cabinet: Which of your current decisions is the "me" making, and what would the "I" decide? 06 · Leave on Your Own Terms Every leader in these seats will leave one day. The room made the case that the how and the when should be the leader's decision as often as possible. An exit can be planned, negotiated, announced in the leader's own words, and handed off with care. Leaders who had done it described relief more than loss, and a stronger position for whatever came next. That choice depends on preparation made years earlier. Advice from a state association mentor, relayed in the room, drew nods all around: pay down debt and build savings early, because boards change and people at home depend on you. A leader who can afford to walk away is free to make the right decision for students while staying. What the evidence adds. Public-sector leaders have a specific advantage. Distributions from a governmental 457(b) plan after separation from the employer are not subject to the 10% additional tax on early withdrawals that applies to 403(b) and 401(k) plans before age 59½. Every leader should consult their own advisors, and the principle holds: financial readiness turns a forced exit into a chosen one. How a leader leaves, and who tells the story, shapes the next role and the institution left behind. For your cabinet: If you had to leave your seat in 90 days, would it be on your terms? What would need to be true for the answer to be yes? 07 · Keep Your Grounding When the Culture Won't Leaders across the country face two pressures that test their footing. The first comes from outside: anonymous public attacks, increasingly assisted by AI, that repackage an institution's own public data to suggest wrongdoing. Strong results offer little protection. The second comes from inside. Long-standing adult habits can drift from the standard a little each year until nobody notices anymore, because it has always been done that way. A leader who names the drift can start to feel like the one who has it wrong. The room's answer to both was the same. Control what you can control. Find a reference point outside the system (a peer, a state association, a coach) who will tell you plainly whether what you're seeing is normal. And remember that protecting students is part of the job. What the evidence adds. Studies of high-stakes organizational failures describe a pattern called normalization of deviance: people inside an organization gradually accept a practice that falls outside the standard because nothing bad has happened yet, until the deviation becomes the standard. Insiders often can't see it, which is why an outsider's reaction matters. National survey data also shows more than half of superintendents reporting more contentious board meetings. Leaders facing this pressure are part of a documented national pattern. For your cabinet: Who outside your organization will tell you the truth when your own culture has started to normalize something it shouldn't? 08 · The Job and the Role I closed with a distinction for leaders weighing whether to stay. The job of a superintendent or president is to make great decisions. The role is culture builder: forging the principles an institution lives by, grounded in a demanding kind of love that fights for the greatest good of everyone the institution serves. If you're driving the right culture forward, press on, hard season and all. If the same interference blocks the role again and again, and the only reason left to stay is a pension milestone, the question becomes: what is it all worth? Leaders who answer that honestly and act on the answer are what I call liberated leaders. Dr. Will Darter, Ed.D , superintendent of Everton R-III Schools in Missouri, put the answer most of us are hoping for in one line on THE PROOF. ❝ "We continuously and relentlessly believe in people. We believe in the places folks forget about. That's where we're called as leaders." ❞ — Dr. Will Darter For your cabinet: Where is your role as culture builder blocked right now, and is it blocked by a problem or a situation? WHAT THIS ROOM DID DIFFERENTLY · FIVE PRACTICES WORTH COPYING They named a good season out loud. Leaders in strong seasons used that stability to listen to peers in harder ones. They tested the diagnosis before acting. Leaders who had come through hard seasons described waiting, testing, and talking it through before making a permanent move. They sorted problems from situations. Energy went to what could be solved. What couldn't be solved was named and set down. They prepared for the exit long before they needed it. Debt paid down, savings built, and a transition planned in their own words. They looked outside for a reality check. Peers outside the system confirmed what a leader inside it was seeing. IMPLICATIONS · BEYOND THE ROOM For superintendents and presidents. Make no permanent decision from inside the worst month. Name your season out loud to one trusted peer first, and build the financial runway that keeps every option yours. For cabinets. A cabinet that can talk about seasons openly, good ones included, gives its leader the perceptual check no individual can supply alone. That is PQ at work, and it is a team capacity before it is a personal one. For boards and trustees. A board that treats a candid conversation about a hard season as a resignation risk teaches its leader to stop having candid conversations. Stability in the top seat starts with a leader who can say "this is a hard season" out loud without it becoming the story. A 35-MINUTE PROTOCOL FOR MONDAY Step 1: Run a fist-to-five (5 minutes, next cabinet meeting). Ask everyone to show where their season stands. Name the fours and fives first. Then meet the ones and twos with grace before plans. (If every hand shows a five in October, somebody isn't telling you something.) Step 2: Run three sorts on your heaviest strain (20 minutes, on your own). Ease or stay? Problem or situation? Me or I? Strain that will ease, problems you can solve, and a choice the "I" would make all point to a season. A persistent gap in values or control, a situation you keep trying to fix, and a choice the "me" is driving deserve a longer conversation with someone outside your walls. Step 3: Calculate your freedom runway (10 minutes, at home). Divide your accessible savings by one month of household expenses. That number is how many months you could go without this paycheck. Then ask whether that number lets you make the right decision for students while you stay. THE MATURITY SHIFT Immature leaders think: "This month is the verdict on my career." Mature leaders think: "This month is data, and I'll read it with someone who's been there." Immature leaders add when it gets hard. Mature leaders subtract first. Immature leaders let the "me" protect the title. Mature leaders let the "I" choose the seat. Immature leaders carry the season alone so nobody worries. Mature leaders let someone outside the walls check the read. ❝ The worst year of a career can sit one year before the best one. Don't let the worst month write the ending. ❞ Your turn. What did the hardest season of your career teach you that the best one never could? Tell us in the comments. Someone reading this in their own hard October needs proof that seasons end. FROM DR. JOE Who do you call when the season gets hard? I mean someone outside your system who has sat in the same chair and will tell you plainly whether what you're seeing is normal. For a lot of leaders the honest answer is nobody, and that gap gets more expensive every year. The pressure from outside is louder. The drift inside is quieter. A leader standing in both can't see either one clearly. What does it cost to make a permanent decision on a read nobody else has checked? Picture the other version: a small table of peers who know the weight without being told, where leaders in strong seasons stay to hear from leaders in harder ones. That's what happened on October 7. The next Peer-to-Peer Leadership Roundtable meets January 6, 2027 , continuing THE PROOF's ten Builder traits. One hour, peers only, capped at 25 seats. You don't need to be in a hard season to come. Some of October's most valuable voices belonged to the fours. Save your seat: https://www.higherperformancegroup.com/p2p-page If this paper helped, pass it to one superintendent or president who should be at that table, and tag a leader above to thank them for the hour they gave. P.S. This month I'm kicking off Operation 100 PROOF: 100 THE PROOF talks on campuses and at conferences over the next 12 months. If a room comes to mind (an opening-day crowd, a board retreat, a state association conference), message me directly or email info@higherperfromancegroup.com . Follow DR. JOE HILL and Higher Performance Group . Data note: Figures are drawn from national superintendent and college president research cited in HPG's October 2026 Executive Brief, Season or Seat. Full sources are available on request.
By HPG Info • October 7, 2026
This fall, a student in your district or on your campus will get caught letting ChatGPT write an essay. There will be a meeting, a policy citation, maybe a zero. That same week, someone in your cabinet will let ChatGPT write a board memo. That one gets a thank-you. We built entire academic integrity policies on one simple idea: if you didn't do the thinking, you don't own the work. Then we quietly exempted ourselves. Try this before your next cabinet meeting. Pull up the last recommendation someone on your team sent you: the budget reduction scenarios, the enrollment projection summary, the draft revision to the attendance policy. Ask the person who wrote it to walk you through the reasoning behind their second option, from memory, with the document closed. If they hesitate, you've found something your AI rollout plan never measured. Your team is getting faster at producing work it can no longer explain. All fall, I've been asking superintendents and college presidents the same question as they plan for 2027: what are your people carrying into this year that no training or workshop seems to touch? The first answer keeps coming back as one line. Convince me this is still worthy work. The second answer, more often than I expected, is AI. Leaders can feel the work speeding up and their own grip on it loosening. In a 2025 MIT Media Lab study , researchers put EEG caps on 54 people and had them write essays. The group using ChatGPT showed the weakest brain connectivity of anyone in the study. Minutes after finishing, most of them couldn't accurately quote a single sentence from the essay they had just turned in. The researchers named the pattern cognitive debt: you save effort today and pay it back later in thinking you can no longer do. It's a small study, and the researchers themselves asked people to stop calling it proof that AI makes anyone dumb. Its message for leaders is simpler. Every prompt that does your thinking for you is a small withdrawal from the one asset your board actually hired. Every cabinet I know is using AI more this fall. Very few are getting smarter because of it. The Irony Nobody at the Board Table Has Named Both halves of our profession are under the same public question right now: can the people we serve still think? In Gallup's latest annual education poll , Americans rated K-12 schools worst on critical thinking out of the six areas measured. Twenty percent called the job schools do there excellent or good. Forty-seven percent called it poor. Presidents hear their own version from employers, legislators, and parents writing tuition checks, all asking whether a degree still proves a graduate can reason through a hard problem. Now picture the same week inside a typical cabinet. The strategic plan update was drafted by a chatbot and lightly edited for tone. The enrollment memo came back from AI, got a quick read, and went to the board. The accreditation narrative or the state report got the same treatment. Someone asked the tool which of three budget scenarios to recommend, and the recommendation it gave is now the cabinet's position. We are asking our schools and colleges to teach students to think while the adults at the top quietly hand their own thinking to a tool that has no stake in whether the institution succeeds. (Nobody at the table would say it out loud. It's awkward to admit the drafts got better while your ability to defend them got worse.) Lee Lambert , who leads the Foothill-De Anza Community College District , told me on Season 1 of The PROOF that he thinks of AI as his tenth Supreme Court justice. He won't panic about it, and he won't ignore it. That's the posture I want for every cabinet, K-12 or higher ed. Give the tool a seat at the table. Keep the gavel. A 2025 study from Microsoft Research and Carnegie Mellon , based on a survey of 319 knowledge workers, found the same pattern at work. The more people trusted generative AI to handle a task, the less critical thinking they reported putting into it. Confidence in the tool went up. Effort in the human went down. Here's the part that should reach you personally. When the tool thinks for an individual, the damage stays in one head. When it thinks for a cabinet, the damage spreads. Five people defer to the same draft, nobody owns the reasoning, and the meeting turns into a line edit of a document nobody built. I've spent years in the chair and have since sat in many presidents' cabinet rooms, and the lesson holds in both: a cabinet that can't explain its own decision will eventually be unable to defend it. (This is the gap THE TEAM INSTITUTE was built to close. Every vendor will train your people on the tool. We help cabinets build the collective judgment the tool is supposed to serve, so AI multiplies what your team already thinks. More on that in a moment.) TQ = IQ × EQ × PQ. AI can push the IQ side of your output up fast. It can't supply the EQ your team needs to disagree well, or the PQ, the perceptual accuracy, that tells you when a polished draft is wrong for the people in front of you. Let those two drift toward zero and every gain on the IQ side gets multiplied by almost nothing. The Human Intelligence Protocol Call this the Human Intelligence Protocol. Five practices that turn AI into a sparring partner. Each works for one leader and gets stronger when a whole cabinet runs it. Protect the Genius Hours. Sort all of your team's work into two zones. The compression zone is anything large, messy, or repetitive that needs to become smaller and clearer: meeting notes, update memos, survey comments, three conflicting reports on the same program. AI is excellent here. The contribution zone is where your judgment comes in: deciding what matters, reading the room, noticing the issue nobody has said out loud, and knowing that an answer can be technically correct and still wrong for this community. The mistake is handing AI the contribution zone because it can produce something that looks finished. A better prompt before your next cabinet meeting: "Organize these notes and updates into key decisions, risks, unresolved questions, and missing information. Do not make a recommendation." The tool organizes the landscape. The room still chooses the direction. Climb the Brief Ladder. Most leaders use AI like a drive-through window: "Write my board update." Vague request, average answer, polished and forgettable. The ladder has five rungs. The request says what you want. Context says who it's for and where it will land. The outcome says what it must accomplish. Constraints set the boundaries, like length, tone, and what to avoid. The standard shows what good looks like: an example, a rubric, your own best past work. The brief ladder is also the skill of delegating to a vice president, a provost, or an assistant superintendent. If you can't brief the tool clearly, you probably haven't briefed your team clearly either. (The quality of your prompt is a pretty honest mirror of the quality of your thinking.) Seat a Board of Minds. A good board asks the hard questions. Left alone, AI tends to tell you your idea is wonderful. So give it other seats at the table. The stakeholder board: "Name the five groups most affected by this decision. For each, tell me what they want, what they fear, and what they'll resist." (Parents, teachers, and the union in one chair. Faculty senate, students, and donors in the other.) The time board: "What does this decision look like after one week, one year, and five years?" The opposition board, which matters most: "I believe this is the right strategy. Build the strongest possible case that I'm wrong. Name my false assumptions and the conditions that would make this plan fail." This one has a team payoff most leaders miss. In a cabinet, dissent carries a social cost, so it often goes unspoken. When the tool plays the dissenter, nobody has to spend political capital to raise the hard objection, and the room can argue hard about the idea while the relationships stay intact. One rule stays firm: AI states wrong facts with total confidence. When a decision rests on facts, ask for sources and verify the important ones yourself. Build a Pressure Lab. Pilots train in simulators. Emergency teams run drills before the crisis. Most leaders walk into the budget hearing, the tense board work session, the faculty senate meeting, or the hard personnel conversation having rehearsed nothing but their talking points. Use AI as the simulator. "Act as a skeptical board member reviewing our proposed program cut. Ask one question at a time. Push back on vague answers and raise the difficulty as I respond. Don't coach me until we're done." Afterward: "Evaluate my answers for clarity, evidence, and conciseness. Show me where I sounded defensive." Then run it again. The same works for learning. Ask for friction on purpose: "If I get stuck, give me the smallest useful clue." Letting the tool remove every difficulty is like having a friend lift your weights at the gym. Use the Beginner Advantage. The higher leaders climb, the more expensive it feels to say "I don't understand." So they nod through the fund balance discussion, the CIO's pitch about AI agents, the retention dashboard, or state assessment data nobody has explained since the last accreditation visit. Then they search for the answer later, or never. AI gives you a private place to go back to basics. "Explain this with no assumed background, in plain language, with one example from a school district or a college." "What are the five terms I need before anything else makes sense?" "What do beginners usually get wrong?" Then run the teach-back test. Close the window, explain the idea out loud in your own words, and ask the tool what you got wrong. Tell it to help you repair your explanation without rewriting it. When the boss does this openly and says so in cabinet, basic questions become normal for everyone. What This Looks Like in a Real Team This is a composite, drawn from patterns across our 987 teams. I've watched it play out in district offices and in presidents' suites, and the only real difference is the vocabulary. A cabinet had three weeks to bring a painful reduction plan to its board. (In the district version, two programs were on the table. In the campus version, two academic programs were up for sunset review, and the faculty senate was already asking questions.) The first draft came from AI in an afternoon. It was clean, confident, and organized. In the first internal review, the board chair's likeliest question ("Why this program and not the other one?") got four different answers from four different senior leaders. So they changed the process. AI compressed six months of budget data into a two-page briefing with the open questions labeled. The cabinet argued out its own recommendation before any tool saw the problem. Then they seated the opposition board, asked for the strongest case against their plan, and found two assumptions they couldn't support. Finally, the top leader and the CFO each spent twenty minutes in a pressure lab with an AI playing their toughest board member. On the night of the vote, the board chair asked the hardest question, and every cabinet member who spoke gave the same answer in their own words. The next morning, the team could explain the plan to the people it affected. Same tool. Same people. What changed was the order: think first, then let the machine argue with you. Bad Season or Wrong Seat? Some of what leaders are feeling this fall is the AI speed-up. Some of it is older than any chatbot. When the work gets heavy, most of us carry one question we rarely say out loud: is this a bad season, or did I take the wrong seat? Season 1 guests of The PROOF answered that question on camera. Rick Cobb waited out a bad year, and the next one became one of his best. Amy Diaz, EdD saw that the problem was the shape of her role and stepped sideways into work that fit. Chris Lindholm runs the district with the longest school bus ride in America. In Everton, Missouri, 91% of Will Darter, Ed.D students live in poverty, and his campus tripled in size while enrollment dropped. On Wednesday, October 7 at 10:30 AM CT, Season 1 guests join our P2P Roundtable to talk it through live. One hour, peers only, no presentations, 30 seats, open to anyone leading systems and people in education. The question sounds the same in both chairs. You'll leave inspired, challenged, and equipped to lead as a BUILDER (not a climber, dreamer, or coaster). Save your seat: higherperformancegroup.com/p2p-page Bring your closed-document test result with you. It's a good place to start the conversation. Monday Morning Here's what to do Monday morning (assuming you're not already mid-crisis, in which case bookmark this and do it Tuesday). Step 1: Run the Zone Audit (20 minutes). Pull up last week's cabinet agenda. Mark each item C for compression or J for judgment. If yours looks like most, a big share of the meeting goes to C items: updates, report-outs, summaries of things people could have read. Now do the math: minutes spent on C items each week × people in the room × 40 meeting weeks. A cabinet of eight spending 45 minutes a week on report-outs burns 240 leader-hours a year, six full work weeks of senior judgment spent listening to things that could have been a pre-read. Step 2: Flip One Meeting (15 minutes of prep). Move every C item into an AI-organized pre-read with decisions, risks, and open questions labeled. Spend the entire meeting on J items. Watch who talks more when the report-outs disappear. (It's often the person who has been quietly waiting for a real conversation.) Step 3: Seat the Opposition (15 minutes, next cabinet meeting). Pick the decision you're most confident about. Put the opposition prompt on the screen and read the strongest case against your plan out loud as a team. Then ask one question: "Which of these objections can we answer, and which ones can't we?" "We don't have time to use AI more carefully." You're already spending it in the second meeting, where the plan gets rebuilt because nobody could defend the first version. Fifteen minutes with the opposition board is cheaper than one decision you have to take back in public. "My team won't use AI this way. They just want the draft." Of course they do. The draft is visible, and the thinking isn't. So make the thinking visible. Start one meeting a month with a single rule: nobody brings an AI draft until the room has built its own answer first. The Maturity Shift Immature leaders think: "AI makes us faster, so we should use it for everything." Mature leaders think: "AI makes us faster at whatever we already are. We'd better make sure what we are is worth speeding up." Immature leaders ask the tool for the answer. Mature leaders ask it for the landscape, the opposition, and the hardest question in the room, then decide for themselves. Every district and every college can buy the same software. The advantage goes to the cabinet that uses it to sharpen its judgment and widen what it can see. That is how the work stays worthy. Your turn: think about the last major recommendation your cabinet made. How much of the reasoning could the team still explain with the laptop closed? Bonus points if you run the closed-document test in your next meeting and tell us what happened. Most cabinets lack a clear read on the collective judgment underneath all those polished drafts, and whether the team can still think together with the tool turned off. That's the gap THE TEAM INSTITUTE closes. We measure how your cabinet thinks, decides, and perceives as a team, grounded in the TQ research behind IQ × EQ × PQ across 987 leadership teams. Cabinets that closed gaps like this saw performance improve roughly 3x, engagement rise 29%, and outcomes improve 27%, with no increase in burnout. If AI is about to multiply whatever your team already is, would it help to know exactly what that is first? Objectively? Get Started Here with the Team Intelligence Baseline Assessment Help another leader protect their team's thinking before the tools quietly take it over. Repost this with the practice you're trying first. Tag a leader whose cabinet is rolling out AI this fall. Or drop a comment with what the closed-document test turned up. P.S. If you plan a conference or member program for 2027, I built a keynote around that "convince me this is still worthy work" question. It's called The PROOF: higherperformancegroup.com/the-proof Follow DR. JOE HILL and Higher Performance Group
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