Higher Performance Insights | THE HUMILITY PARADOX

November 25, 2025
higher performance insights

Walk Into Any Leadership Conference and Try This Experiment


Read through the conference program. What do you see?


247 breakout sessions on "executive presence." 3 on humility.


And those three? Empty rooms at 3 PM on Friday when everyone's already at the airport bar calculating if they can make the earlier flight.


Nobody flies to San Diego to learn how to look less certain.


Here's the data that should terrify you: 73% of educational leaders in our 987-team study privately admit they're making it up as they go. Yet 94% project absolute certainty in public—in board meetings, cabinet sessions, and all-staff addresses where doubt would be career suicide.


That 21-point gap between private reality and public performance? That's not strategic leadership. That's organizational theater. And it's costing you the one thing that actually multiplies team capacity.


A cultural analyst recently said something that stopped me cold: "Humility has come under attack in our society. Self-effacement became identified with weakness. A different ethos took over—expressive individualism. Salvation is now found through intimate contact with oneself and exposing the power within."


In plain English: We've trained leaders to believe their job is managing their personal brand, not developing their team's collective intelligence.


We built an entire leadership development industry around projecting strength. Then we wonder why our teams can't think together under pressure.


Here's what nobody tells you at those conferences (because vulnerability doesn't sell tickets): The superintendents and presidents whose teams actually multiply capacity—who turn 8 people into what feels like 25—they've figured out something the confident performers haven't.


They've learned that certainty kills curiosity. That "I don't know" opens more doors than "trust me." That the leader who admits confusion creates space for collective problem-solving, while the leader who fakes clarity creates teams that wait for orders.

The paradox: Strong teams aren't built by strong leaders performing strength. They're built by secure leaders practicing humility.


Your turn: When's the last time you doubled down on a position in a meeting—not because you believed it, but because changing your mind would look weak? Drop a number in the comments: how many times THIS YEAR has that happened?

(I'll start: At least 4. Maybe 6. Definitely more than I want you to know about.)


THE DIAGNOSIS: Why Smart Leaders Fight Like Street Gangs (And Don't Even Know It)


Let's talk about this like adults who've survived multiple board presentations where you had to defend decisions you weren't entirely sure about while projecting absolute conviction the entire time.


Here's what actually happened in your last cabinet meeting (the real version, not the minutes):


Scenario 1: The Territorial Defense


Someone advocated for their position way more forcefully than the data warranted. Not because they were certain they were right. Because they needed to win. Their credibility felt at stake in front of peers.


In K-12: Your Assistant Superintendent for Curriculum can't let the Assistant Superintendent for Finance "win" the budget allocation argument—even when Finance's numbers are solid—because losing feels like professional diminishment.


In Higher Ed: Your Dean of Liberal Arts can't concede that the Dean of Business has a valid enrollment strategy point, because agreement feels like surrender, and surrender feels like irrelevance.


Scenario 2: The Defensive Recoil


Someone received actually useful feedback and reacted like they'd been personally attacked. You watched them shut down, get defensive, or start building the counterargument before the feedback was even finished.


Scenario 3: The Subtle Undermining


Someone couldn't just let their colleague's good idea stand on its own. They had to add a qualifier. Point out a flaw. Subtly reposition it so their own contribution felt equally important.


You've seen this. You've probably done this. (I definitely have.)


Scenario 4: The Performance


Everyone nodded agreement during the meeting. Then three separate people texted their real thoughts to someone NOT in the room afterward.


You built a team that performs collaboration but practices competition.


And here's what nobody wants to say out loud: This isn't because you hired bad people. This is because you hired humans.


The Root Cause Nobody Names


Here's the uncomfortable diagnosis, and I'm going to be direct because I spent 25 years in the loneliness of the senior leadership seat:


We live in a state of cosmic insecurity.


Stay with me for 60 seconds before you dismiss this as psychobabble.


Think about street gangs. Young men who don't feel valued by society or their families. They walk down the street, and if you slight them even slightly, they'll pummel you. Why? Because they're what the ancient Greeks called "glory empty"—desperately hungry for respect, for validation, for assurance that they matter.


You're thinking: "Well sure, but that's THEM. They have self-esteem issues."


Except for those who study history, nation-states have always acted exactly like street gangs. Slight them diplomatically, and they go to war. Why? Because nations are just collections of glory-empty humans operating collectively the same way they operate individually.


And your cabinet? Your leadership team? Same dynamics. Just with better credentials and conference rooms instead of street corners.


Why? Here's the brutal truth:


We were made to live in the presence of something transcendent that gave us permanent, unshakeable worth. But we've built a professional culture where worth is temporary, conditional, and constantly up for negotiation.


So we fight. For recognition. For credit. For assurance that we're not ephemeral. That we won't be forgotten. That we matter.

A leadership writer captured it perfectly: "Pride in the spiritual sense is refusal to let anything greater than yourself define your worth. It's grabbing ultimate status for yourself—wishing to be self-sufficient, relying only on your own resources. That is the greatest illusion, the cosmic delusion that we can make it as our own gods. Which leaves us empty at the center."


Empty at the center.


So we swagger. We bluff. We attack anyone who threatens our fragile sense that we're real. We use people as buttresses for shaky egos. Life becomes a constant battle to prove we count.


And leadership teams become battlegrounds dressed up as strategic planning sessions.


(This is actually why I created The GROUP—a free community where we stop performing leadership and start practicing actual team development together. Where we name this stuff instead of pretending it doesn't exist. But I'm getting ahead of myself.)


I know the loneliness of being the only person in the room who sees this pattern. Of wondering if YOU'RE the problem because surely other leadership teams don't operate like a group project where everyone's protecting their territory. Comment "LONELY" if you've ever felt like the only person who sees how dysfunctional the dynamics actually are.


THE FRAMEWORK: What Humility Actually Is (And Why Ancient Wisdom Demolishes Modern Leadership Theory)


Call this the Humility Architecture. Or don't. It'll still explain why your cabinet of brilliant individuals produces mediocre collective results.


Here's what nobody tells you at leadership conferences: In ancient Greco-Roman culture, humility wasn't a virtue—it was an insult.


The Greek word tapeinophrosyne meant "lowliness of mind"—the disposition of a slave. That entire civilization was built on a hierarchy where strength commanded, weakness obeyed, and humility was literally the posture of the conquered.


Social order rested on power and fear. Leaders projected dominance. Humility was career death—if you even had a career.


Then Christianity showed up and flipped the entire script.


Suddenly, the guy washing his disciples' feet was the model of leadership. "Blessed are the meek" became revolutionary philosophy. The last shall be first. The greatest among you must be a servant.


This wasn't just religious teaching—it was a civilizational operating system upgrade.


Within a few centuries, humility transformed from slave-virtue to leadership virtue. Western culture's entire conception of moral authority shifted from "power over others" to "service to others."


(Yes, Christians spent the next 2,000 years frequently forgetting this and building their own power hierarchies. The irony is not lost on me. But the philosophical shift stuck—humility became something worth aspiring to, not hiding.)


Fast forward to 1982.


That's when the modern self-esteem movement launched in California—naturally—with a state task force literally titled "Task Force to Promote Self-Esteem and Personal and Social Responsibility."


The pendulum swung hard. Humility became confused with low self-esteem. Confidence became the currency. "Believe in yourself" replaced "know yourself." We went from servant leadership back to... well, basically Greco-Roman leadership with better presentation decks.


By the 2000s, we'd completed the regression: Leadership development became about executive presence, personal branding, and projecting certainty. Admitting "I don't know" became weakness. Changing your mind became flip-flopping.


We reverse-engineered our way back to ancient Rome, except now leaders wear Patagonia vests instead of togas.


Here's the thing that changes everything: The teams that actually work—the ones that multiply capacity instead of just adding headcount—they're operating on the ancient Christian model, not the modern confidence model.


They've figured out what took Western civilization 400 years to learn the first time: Humility isn't weakness. It's the foundation of collective intelligence.


When leaders practice genuine humility—not false modesty, not performative self-deprecation, but actual "I might be wrong about this" openness—something shifts. Teams stop performing agreement and start thinking together.


The leader who says "I'm certain" creates followers.


The leader who says "I'm uncertain, let's figure this out" creates thinkers.


One builds a reporting structure. One builds a team.


The ancient Greeks would have called the second leader weak. They'd also be confused about why that leader's "weak" team is outperforming everyone else's "strong" one.


Turns out civilizational wisdom was right the first time.


Let me give you four diagnostic tools—four things humility is NOT. Which means if you're doing these things, you're operating in pride (even if it doesn't feel like it):


1. HUMILITY IS THE OPPOSITE OF DRIVENNESS


Be careful here. You can be passionate, hardworking, and pursuing excellence because you genuinely love what you're doing. That's not drivenness.


Drivenness is when your competitiveness comes from an inner vacuum rather than outer joy.


The test: If your colleague achieves the breakthrough you've been working toward, are you almost as genuinely happy as if you'd achieved it yourself? Or does their success somehow diminish yours?


One philosopher nailed it: "Pride gets no pleasure out of having something—only having MORE of it than the next person. You're not proud of being intelligent until you're more intelligent than your colleagues. Pride is comparative. It's the pleasure of being above the rest."


Observable reality in your cabinet:


  • The person who can't celebrate anyone else's wins without adding their own accomplishment to the conversation
  • Who tracks whose ideas get implemented more frequently
  • Who measures their worth by comparing their impact to everyone else's
  • Who's always restless, always unhappy with their performance, always needing the next win to feel okay


In K-12: The principal who can't let another principal's building outperform theirs without finding ways to explain why it doesn't really count. The assistant superintendent who subtly undermines district initiatives that didn't originate in their portfolio.


In Higher Ed: The dean who can't acknowledge another college's enrollment success without mentioning that college's "different circumstances" or "lower standards." The VP who literally tracks which recommendations the president implements most frequently.



If you're driven, restless, always competing—you're not pursuing excellence. You're medicating emptiness.

Humility is content. Not complacent—content. Massive difference.


2. HUMILITY IS THE OPPOSITE OF SCORNFULNESS


Treating others with contempt—jeering, ridiculing, the constant sarcastic put-down—is always a manifestation of pride.

Why? Because you're putting people down (notice that's literally the metaphor we use), so you can position yourself above them.


Humility means treating everyone—especially those who are less credentialed than you or opposed to your position—with courtesy, grace, and respect. Always.


Observable reality:


  • The leader whose default response to opposing viewpoints is mockery
  • Who uses humor as a weapon
  • Who needs others to be wrong so they can feel right
  • Whose meeting contributions regularly include subtle digs at colleagues' intelligence or competence


Quick diagnostic: Do your "jokes" about team members make them smaller so you can feel bigger?


3. HUMILITY IS THE OPPOSITE OF WILLFULNESS


One writer observed: "Spiritually proud people are always absolutely sure of every point of their beliefs."

Proud people cannot admit they're wrong. Can't take advice. Can't take correction. They don't like repenting—and when they do, it's always under duress. They're not teachable. They're not open to changing their minds. They don't actually listen.


Observable reality:


  • That cabinet member who has never once said, "You know what? I was completely wrong about that."
  • Who interprets every piece of feedback as a personal attack
  • Who treats correction as disrespect
  • Who can't distinguish between "your idea needs refinement" and "you are inadequate as a person"


The test: When was the last time you admitted you were completely wrong about something you were certain you were right about?


Not "I could have communicated better" (that's not admitting you were wrong—that's blaming communication). I mean, actually, substantively wrong.


If you can't remember? That's diagnostic.


4. HUMILITY IS THE OPPOSITE OF SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS


This is the sneaky one. Because we almost always think proud people are arrogant—self-promoters who constantly brag, with superiority complexes.


But pride manifests just as powerfully through inferiority feelings.


Because ultimately, pride is insecurity—this desperate need for honor, this hunger for glory. And that expresses itself as much through self-doubt as through self-promotion.


If you're always doubting yourself, always beating yourself up, if you're terrified of compliments or attention, it's because you're just as painfully self-aware as the arrogant person. You're just as absorbed in thinking about yourself. You're just looking through a different lens.


Here's the insight that changes everything:


Real humility is not thinking less of yourself. It's not thinking more of yourself. It's thinking of yourself LESS.

Self-forgetfulness. Not self-hatred. Not self-promotion. Self-forgetfulness.


The Body Part Test


When do you think about your elbow? Only when something's wrong with it. When it's functioning properly, you never think about your elbow at all.


Now think about your ego, your sense of self.


If you were psychologically healthy, you wouldn't constantly think about:


  • How you're doing
  • How you're looking
  • What people are saying about you
  • Whether that person respects you
  • How you came across in that meeting


You'd be thinking about other things—your mission, your team, the people you serve, the problems you're solving.


But instead, you're always monitoring yourself. Getting your feelings hurt. Feeling slighted. Wondering if that person likes you. Replaying conversations to analyze your performance.


Why? Because something's wrong with your ego. Just like something's wrong with your elbow when you can't stop thinking about it.


We're not healthy. We're glory-empty. And as a result, we're filled with drivenness, scornfulness, willfulness, and self-consciousness.


Which of these four is your primary struggle? Comment just the word—drivenness, scornfulness, willfulness, or self-consciousness. No explanation needed. (Notice how hard even THAT admission is? That difficulty is itself diagnostic.)


THE CASE STUDY: The President Who Stopped Trying to Look Humble


Let me tell you about a university president I'll call Marcia (not her real name, but Marcia, if you're reading this, you absolutely know this story is about you and you're smiling right now).


Marcia inherited a cabinet of seven VPs. All credentialed. All experienced. Combined IQ that could literally cure diseases.


Combined ability to work as a unified team? Roughly equivalent to a committee trying to decide on pizza toppings while honoring everyone's dietary restrictions and also addressing systemic inequity in pizza distribution.


Her first 90 days, she tried everything leadership books recommend:


  • Strategic planning sessions
  • Vision alignment workshops
  • Team-building exercises (they did an escape room—everyone escaped, nobody's relationships improved)


Nothing changed.


Here's what Marcia finally realized: Her team wasn't dysfunctional because they lacked skills. They were dysfunctional because every single person—herself included—was operating from glory-emptiness.


✅ Her CFO needed to be seen as the smartest person in financial discussions.


✅ Her CAO needed recognition as the institutional visionary.


✅ Her VP of Advancement needed credit for revenue growth.


✅ Her VP of Enrollment needed acknowledgment for recruitment strategies.


Nobody was thinking about the institution. Everyone was thinking about their reputation within the institution.


The Turning Point


Marcia did something radical. She stopped trying to fix the team's behavior and started addressing the team's orientation.

She asked each VP privately: "When you think about your work here, what are you most afraid of?"


The answers were devastatingly honest:


  • "That people will think I'm not adding real value"
  • "That I'll be exposed as not knowing enough"
  • "That my successor will do it better and people will realize I wasn't that great"
  • "That I'll be forgotten after I leave"


Glory-emptiness. All of them. Including Marcia.


Then she asked a different question at their next retreat:


"What if your professional reputation didn't matter at all? What if you were already fully known, fully valued, fully secure in your worth—not because of your accomplishments but just because of who you are? How would you lead differently?"


The room went silent for 45 seconds. (Which in a room full of executives feels like 45 minutes.)


  • Then her VP of Finance said: "I'd probably ask for help more. I'd admit when I don't know something instead of pretending I do."
  • Her CAO said: "I'd stop fighting for my ideas and start building on other people's ideas. I'd care more about the best solution than my solution."
  • Her VP of Advancement said: "I'd stop tracking whose initiatives get credit and just focus on what actually grows the institution."


Marcia said: "What if we all started operating that way? Not because we've achieved perfect self-actualization, but because we're practicing a different orientation—one where our worth isn't constantly up for negotiation?"


The Results


Six months later: Same people. Same challenges. Different operating system.

They'd built what Marcia called "a culture of self-forgetfulness"—not self-hatred, not self-promotion, but genuine focus on mission over reputation.


The changes:


  • Cabinet meetings became 40% shorter (people stopped positioning, started problem-solving)
  • Decision velocity increased 3x (people cared more about right answers than being right)
  • Innovation accelerated (people stopped protecting territory)
  • Voluntary turnover dropped to zero (previously losing 1-2 VPs annually)
  • Student outcomes up 12%
  • Faculty satisfaction up 18%
  • Board confidence dramatically increased (the cabinet finally looked like a team instead of competing empires)


Marcia told me: "Humility isn't something you achieve. It's what happens when you stop needing achievement to prove you matter. That shift changes absolutely everything."


The difference? They stopped trying to fill their glory-emptiness through work performance. They started operating from a completely different foundation.


Now, if you're thinking "this makes philosophical sense, but how do I actually build this into my team's operating system on Tuesday?"—I get it. That's exactly 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 scripts for vulnerability-based conversations, diagnostic tools for identifying glory-emptiness in your team, exercises for practicing self-forgetfulness together, and frameworks that make this concrete rather than theoretical.


It's free (because charging for the solution to glory-emptiness would be peak irony), and built specifically for leaders who need Monday morning resources, not more Sunday night philosophy.


Grab this week's Humility Architecture 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: What To Do Monday Morning (Before Your Team Implodes)


Here's what to do Monday morning (assuming your calendar isn't already booked with meetings about meetings):


STEP 1: THE PRIDE DIAGNOSTIC AUDIT (20 minutes alone, possibly uncomfortable)


You can't work on humility directly. Remember—humility is self-forgetfulness. The moment you start monitoring whether you're humble, you've lost it.


But you CAN identify pride. And pride has four telltale manifestations.


Pull out paper. Be brutally honest. Rate yourself 1-10 on each:


  1. DRIVENNESS: Do I need to win? Am I restless with my performance? Do others' successes diminish mine? Do I compare my impact to everyone else's constantly? (1 = content and joyful, 10 = constant need to prove myself)
  2. SCORNFULNESS: Do I use sarcasm as a weapon? Mock people whose positions threaten mine? Do my "jokes" make others smaller? (1 = treat everyone with courtesy, 10 = regular contempt for those who oppose or outperform me)
  3. WILLFULNESS: Can I admit I'm wrong? Am I teachable? Do I take advice? Can I change my mind when presented with better information? (1 = regularly admit mistakes and change course, 10 = never wrong, always certain)
  4. SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS: How much time do I spend thinking about how I'm coming across? Monitoring whether people respect me? Replaying conversations to analyze my performance? (1 = rarely think about myself, 10 = constantly monitoring my reputation)


Add up your scores. If you're above 28, you have a pride problem that's costing your team more than your budget shortfall.


Now the hard part: Ask 2-3 people who work closely with you to rate you on these same four dimensions. Don't explain what they mean—just give them the four words and the 1-10 scale.


If their average rating is more than 5 points different from yours, that gap IS your leadership problem. Not your strategy. Not your resources. The gap between how you see yourself and how your team experiences you.


STEP 2: THE REPUTATION RELEASE EXERCISE (15 minutes, possibly terrifying)


This is adapted from one of the humblest leaders I ever worked with. He couldn't stand two things: underperforming and unfair criticism.


Here's what he learned: He meditated on the idea that his reputation ultimately matters less than his contribution.


Try this:


Identify the thing that most threatens your sense of professional worth:


  • Unfair criticism from your board?
  • Being outperformed by a peer?
  • Not getting credit for your ideas?
  • Being forgotten after you leave?
  • Someone discovering you don't know something you're supposed to know?


Write it down. Be specific. Name the scenario that makes your stomach drop.


Now write this sentence:


"If [the scenario you fear] happened, and my reputation suffered, would my contribution still matter? Would the lives I've impacted still count? Would the systems I've built still serve people?"


The answer, of course, is yes.


Your reputation isn't your contribution. Your reputation is other people's current opinion of your contribution. Opinions are temporary. Actual impact is real.


The practice: When you feel that reputation-threat fear rising (someone criticizes you, someone gets credit for your idea, someone outperforms you), pause and ask:


"Am I protecting my reputation or serving my mission?"


If you're protecting reputation, you're operating in pride. If you're serving mission, reputation becomes irrelevant.


STEP 3: THE SELF-FORGETFULNESS CONVERSATION (30 minutes with your team, zero BS)


At your next cabinet meeting, add this agenda item: "The thing we don't talk about."


Say this (I'm giving you the exact script):


"I've been thinking about something. I think our team operates with more self-consciousness than self-forgetfulness. Meaning: I think we all spend more mental energy monitoring how we're perceived than serving our mission. And I include myself—probably especially myself—in that assessment.


So here's my question: What would have to be true for each of us to stop thinking about our reputation and start thinking only about our contribution?


I'll go first. [Share your answer honestly. This ONLY works if you model vulnerability first.]


Then I want to hear from each of you. Not performatively. Just honestly."

Then shut up and let the silence do its work.


Someone will break first. Usually the person you least expect. And they'll say something like:


  • "I spend way too much time making sure people know what I'm contributing"
  • "I can't celebrate other people's wins because I'm always comparing"
  • "I'm exhausted from managing how I'm perceived"


That's your opening. That's where humility begins—with people admitting they're glory-empty and tired of performing fullness.


OBJECTION HANDLING


"This sounds like therapy, not leadership development."


Fair pushback. Except here's the data: Leadership teams in the top quartile for humility-based competencies outperform their peers by 43% on institutional objective achievement.


Teams marked by drivenness, scornfulness, willfulness, and self-consciousness consistently underperform their talent level by 30-40%.


You can call it therapy. I call it the foundation that determines whether strategy actually works.


Also: You're currently spending approximately 12 hours per week managing your reputation (conservative estimate). That's 624 hours annually performing confidence you don't always feel.


How's that working for your actual results?


"My team will think I've lost it if I start talking about 'glory-emptiness'"


Then don't use that language. Use this language:


"I think we're spending more energy on perception management than problem-solving, and it's measurably costing us."


That's concrete. Observable. And if one person has the courage to admit it, everyone else will recognize it immediately.

Yes, this conversation will be uncomfortable. That discomfort is diagnostic.


If you can't have this conversation, your team is operating at Level 1-2 trust, which means you absolutely cannot do Level 5 work (transformation, change leadership, conflict resolution).


The math doesn't care about your comfort.


THE MATURITY SHIFT


❌ Immature leaders think: "I need to project confidence to earn respect." ✅ Mature leaders think: "I need to demonstrate humility to build trust"


❌ Immature leaders measure success by how they're perceived. ✅ Mature leaders measure success by what they've contributed


❌ Immature leaders see vulnerability as career-limiting weakness. ✅ Mature leaders see vulnerability as the foundation of team cohesion


❌Immature leaders need to be the smartest person in the room. ✅ Mature leaders build the smartest room


❌ Immature leaders are terrified of being forgotten. ✅ Mature leaders focus on building something worth remembering


❌ Immature leaders collect accolades like Pokemon cards. ✅ Mature leaders give away credit like it's infinite (because it is)


The difference is the difference between glory-seeking and mission-serving. One makes you exhausting to work with. One makes impossible inevitable.


Here's the paradox nobody warns you about: The way up is down. The way to be truly great is to stop needing to be seen as great. The most powerful thing you can do is give away power for others' flourishing.


Your cabinet doesn't need another strategic planning session about excellence. It needs a fundamental reorientation away from glory-seeking and toward mission-serving.


Everything else is decoration on a foundation that doesn't exist.


Your turn—which of the four pride patterns is your dominant struggle? Comment just one word: drivenness, scornfulness, willfulness, or self-consciousness. No explanation needed.


Or screenshot the maturity shift section and text it to your CFO with: "This is the conversation we've been avoiding."


Or tag a cabinet member who actually models self-forgetfulness and tell them specifically what you admire about their humility. (Naming it when you see it reinforces it.)


CLOSING: You Just Read About Your Actual Problem


You just invested 14 minutes learning why your team's performance problem is actually an orientation problem.

Glory-emptiness masquerading as confidence. Self-consciousness disguised as strategic positioning. Competition wearing a collaboration costume.


Here's how to make sure this insight compounds instead of evaporating by Tuesday morning:


OPTION 1: JOIN THE GROUP (FREE)


Turn every newsletter into ready-to-deploy team resources.


What you get:


  • Implementation guides that save you 3+ hours per week
  • Facilitation scripts for vulnerability-based conversations
  • Diagnostic tools for identifying pride patterns in your team
  • Peer community of campus leaders practicing self-forgetfulness together
  • Monthly live problem-solving sessions (zero PowerPoints about synergy)
  • Your Natural Leadership Profile diagnostic


This week's guide turns this exact newsletter into your next cabinet meeting agenda—including word-for-word scripts for the reputation release exercise and the self-forgetfulness conversation.


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


OPTION 2: SUBSCRIBE TO LEADER INSIGHTS (ALSO FREE)


Get these provocations delivered weekly to your inbox.


Frameworks nobody else is teaching. Patterns nobody else is naming. Case studies about leaders who stopped performing and started building.


SUBSCRIBE TO THE BLOG: https://www.higherperformancegroup.com/blog


Pick one. Pick both. Just don't pick neither.


Because your alternative is continuing to lead from glory-emptiness and hoping different results materialize through better strategic plans and more leadership books.


(Spoiler: They won't.)


YOUR MOVE


Found this valuable?


→ Repost this with the one pride pattern you're committing to address → Tag a leader who models self-forgetfulness and tell them specifically why → Comment below: Which costs your team more—your drivenness, scornfulness, willfulness, or self-consciousness?


The more leaders who shift from glory-seeking to mission-serving, the better our educational institutions become.

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


NEXT ISSUE: "Your Cabinet Is Performing Collaboration (But Practicing Competition)"


We'll explore why your leadership team looks unified in meetings but operates like rival factions between them—complete with pre-meeting lobbying, post-meeting damage control, and enough political positioning to make the UN Security Council look efficient.


Spoiler: You're not having a communication problem. You're having a glory-emptiness problem wearing a collaboration costume. And it's costing you more than your entire professional development budget combined.



P.S. If you're thinking "I don't have time to turn this into a facilitation plan for Tuesday's cabinet meeting"—I already did it for you. The GROUP implementation guide includes the exact 30-minute conversation script (word-for-word, including how to handle the awkward silence), the diagnostic audit template you can print and use tomorrow, and the reputation release exercise with real examples from campus leaders—everything formatted for copy-paste deployment into your Tuesday cabinet meeting. It's free. It saves you hours. And it might actually change your team's entire operating system. Join here: https://www.higherperformancegroup.com/the-group


Do you want more leadership topics and guides?

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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
By HPG Info • September 29, 2026
Before your next leadership team meeting, try something uncomfortable. For each of your direct reports, name one person on the team who would notice if they went quiet for two weeks. Someone who would actually pick up the phone. If a name didn’t come right away for at least one of them, you just found the reason your next resignation letter will blindside you. Eighteen months before it’s written. Most superintendents and presidents have never run this check. Nothing on your dashboard measures it. Evaluations measure output. Board reports measure outcomes. Strategic plans measure progress against a timeline. All of it is a lagging indicator, proof of something that already happened. One layer underneath every number you track sits a leading indicator. It measures whether anyone on your cabinet belongs to anyone else on your cabinet. The best explanation I’ve found for it started in evolutionary psychology. Stick with me. It gets specific fast. Schools Already Measure This. For Fifteen-Year-Olds. Gallup’s newest numbers, released this month, put Americans’ satisfaction with K-12 education at 32%. That’s the lowest in 27 years of tracking, and down 11 points in two years. It’s the mood your board members carry into every meeting. Here’s the part almost nobody covered. The OECD’s PISA 2025 results landed the same month, and buried inside them is a finding that cuts the other way. In 39 education systems, more students now say they belong at school than in 2022. In 48, fewer say they feel lonely. And bullying, the clearest belonging-killer PISA tracks, is associated with lower performance. The people studying fifteen-year-olds treat belonging as a performance indicator worth measuring at scale. Nobody has told the people running cabinets full of grown adults that the same logic applies to them. Now look at your own cabinet. You already know its shape. Two or three people you’d call close. One or two you can’t quite read. And at least one who’s technically “on the team” and functionally on an island: capable, compliant, and quiet in exactly the way that gets mistaken for fine. Here’s the part nobody puts in the org chart. The isolated one is usually your best individual performer. High competence reads as self-sufficiency. Self-sufficiency reads as “doesn’t need checking on.” Call it Competence Camouflage The better someone is at the job, the less anyone asks how they’re actually doing. (Which means the person most likely to be running on empty is the one least likely to get asked.) Robin Dunbar’s research on relationship layers has taken some hits on its exact numbers. The layered structure has held up better than the math: roughly 150 people you know, 50 you’d call friends, 15 you’d call close, and at the center, about 5 you actually rely on. Strip away the precise figures and one finding survives every challenge. The number of people we lean on for real support is small, and it does not grow with the number of people we know. (This is the question THE TEAM INSTITUTE was built to help cabinets answer: does everyone have someone? We map the actual relational structure of a cabinet the way good schools already map it for kids, then help build the one or two structural fixes that close what the map finds. More on that in a moment.) This is the part where I’m supposed to tell you to build more team culture. You’ve already tried the retreat, the trust falls, and the personality assessment binder gathering dust on someone’s shelf. What you have is a measurement gap. You’ve been tracking IQ and output, the two variables everyone measures, and skipping the one that decides whether either shows up. That’s PQ: how accurately your team reads each other, including who’s quietly running on empty. IQ × EQ × PQ = Team Intelligence . Leave PQ near zero and the whole product lands near zero, no matter how good the other two look on paper. The One-Name Test Call this the One-Name Test. It’s simple enough that you don’t need a consultant to run it, which is probably why almost nobody does. 1. Run the Census. Most leaders assume their cabinet is connected because meetings happen and nobody’s complained. Quiet tells you nothing about connection. So run the actual census: for each direct report, name one other person on the team who would notice if they went quiet for two weeks. A blank is your first isolated node, and possibly your next resignation letter, eighteen months early. (This is why “we didn’t see it coming” is almost never true. Someone saw it. Their role just didn’t make noticing count.) 2. The Bar Is One. Dunbar’s layers get quoted for the big number, 150. The number that moves retention on a cabinet is the smallest one. A cabinet member doesn’t need five people. They need one: someone who asks a second time when the answer is “fine.” A single reliable connection is something you can build on purpose, on a Tuesday, with no retreat budget. 3. Build Proximity on Purpose. Every school does this for kids. Advisories, teams, lunch tables. The whole architecture of a building is a belonging machine, whether anyone says so out loud. Cabinets stop doing it for adults the day everyone gets a title. Standing 1:1s that skip the status update. Co-owned projects that put two people in a room who wouldn’t otherwise talk. A rotating pair for the hard conversations, so the same two people aren’t always carrying the room. This is structural work, and structure survives a bad quarter. This is a composite, drawn from patterns across our 987 teams, not one specific leader. A university cabinet: six vice presidents, all strong, all overcommitted, all evaluated individually, all scoring well. The quietest one ran the tightest division in the institution and hadn’t taken a real day off in over a year. Nobody flagged it. Her numbers were fine. Then she resigned, gave the standard reasons, and left the president genuinely confused. Six months later, that cabinet ran its first belonging census. Two more vice presidents had no named connection. The president hadn’t known. Neither had they, until someone asked directly. The fix took three standing 1:1s and one reshuffled project pairing. In the cabinets where we see this pattern, a fix that small is usually enough. What changed? Someone finally noticed who had nobody, and acted before the resignation letter instead of after. Gallup has tracked this for years: only about two in ten U.S. employees strongly agree they have a best friend at work. The ones who do are more engaged and less likely to leave. Look around your cabinet table and count how many of your people could say yes with confidence. 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 Census (20 minutes). List every direct report. Next to each name, write one other person on the team who would notice if they went quiet. If you don’t know, leave it blank. Don’t guess to make the page look better. The blanks are the whole point. Step 2: Start With the Loneliest Node (30 minutes). Whoever has the most blanks gets the first fix. That’s usually your highest performer, which is exactly why they keep getting skipped. Build one standing connection this week: a pairing, a recurring 1:1, or a co-owned project with someone they don’t already talk to. Step 3: Ask the Discovery Question (10 minutes, next cabinet meeting). Skip “how’s everyone doing.” Ask: “Is there anyone on this team who’d notice if you disappeared for two weeks?” Let the silence sit. Someone will answer honestly. That’s your opening. “We don’t have time for relationship-building.” Do the math on the alternative. Replacing a cabinet-level leader is commonly estimated at 1.5 to 2 times salary once you count the search, the interim, and the months of lost momentum. On a $180,000 vice president, that’s $270,000 to $360,000. The census takes twenty minutes. That’s less time than the last meeting that could have been an email. “My team is professionals, not middle schoolers who need a buddy system.” Professionals are exactly who this is for. The buddy system works on ten-year-olds because it’s honest about what humans need. Adults just got better at hiding when it’s missing, which is why it takes a census to find it instead of a glance across the cafeteria. The Maturity Shift Immature leaders think: “My cabinet has a performance problem, so we need better goals and clearer accountability.” Mature leaders think: “My cabinet might have a belonging problem wearing a performance costume, and accountability can’t catch what connection was supposed to.” Immature leaders treat isolation as a personality trait: some people are just private, just independent, just built that way. Mature leaders treat it as a structural gap, the same one they’d flag for a kid with no lunch table. It’s the same gap in a suit. Dunbar made 150 famous. The number that matters on your cabinet is one. Building a single connection for one person may be the highest-leverage thing you do this month, because if you don’t design it on purpose, you’ll find out by accident, usually in an exit interview. Your turn: pull up your cabinet roster right now. Whose name can’t you pair with anyone? Bonus points if you knew before you finished reading and just hadn’t said it out loud. If that name came to you fast, you already have what you need to start. What you probably don’t have is a structured way to find the ones you’re missing before one of them hands you a resignation letter. That’s the gap THE TEAM INSTITUTE closes. We map who’s connected and who isn’t across your whole cabinet, 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 you already suspect someone on your team has nobody, would it help to know for certain, and to find the ones you’ve missed? Start here: THE TEAM INTELLIGENCE ASSESSMENT Whether or not this week is the right one for that, help another leader catch this before it costs them someone. Repost this with the one step you’re taking this week. Tag a fellow superintendent or president who needs to run this census. Or drop a comment with where your belonging plan stands.  Follow DR. JOE HILL and Higher Performance Group .
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