Leadership is A Human Act: Stewarding Transformation Through the Fog

By: Heidi Vissia and Bernard Brown

When we stand at the crossroads of innovation, we often see two distinct paths, both with a host of obstacles. One path heads back the way we came, and one leads into an opaque fog. The path pointing backwards is often riddled with grief. It is a reflection on your own personal and professional past. It is the processing of what was. The opaque path forward is often laced with fear. It is the anxiety of what might go wrong.

William Bridges’ Transition Model names this innovation bottleneck as the “Neutral Zone”—the messy middle where the old way is gone, but the new way isn’t yet fully operational. Truly moving forward into the fog involves the discomfort of parting ways with who we used to be, or at least who we believed we were, and turning our backs on the path that leads into the past. A recent blog post shared the story of how letting go of old systems can often feel like a form of loss, but also that acknowledging grief can be the catalyst we need to move forward into the fog. This, of course is easier said than done. Taking the first step is only a part of the process—from there, you have to keep moving. 

In the world of educational innovation, we often focus on return on investment. But as leaders, we have learned that the true cost of innovation isn’t measured in dollars; it’s measured in people. After all, systemic change is a human endeavor. When we ignore the human ecosystem, even the most brilliant systems and strategies will struggle to take root. To lead well, leaders must be cognizant of the grief and fear their team feels and has felt. They must be the ones who listen and, in response, offer the gift of permission to try, to fail, to break new ground—to hope. This transformation requires shifts from both the teacher and the leader:

The Power of Permission: From Compliance to Becoming

Permission allows staff to take the opaque path forward and leave behind the burdens they carry. Whether you are in the classroom or the front office, your posture on the road ahead determines if innovation lives or dies. Scholars like Etienne Wenger and Alison Fox Resnick have identified three distinct stages of learning: Permission, Expectation and Iteration. Your transformation journey will likely navigate all three of them, resulting in posture shifts at every step of the process.

The Permission to Innovate (Heidi)

I remember the neutral zone vividly, and some days I find myself back there. One standout moment was when I first moved toward an innovative grading system. I was at the bargaining stage of transformation: trying innovation within my Algebra 2 class, but keeping Geometry traditional. I was afraid of the cleanup if I failed. I felt exposed and vulnerable. I was concerned that my professional identity was on the line, but more than that, I was terrified of the potential loss of learning for my students. While I was ready to own the results, I wasn’t ready to have to justify the rubble that might have come at their expense.

Eventually, I reached a breaking point. I realized I couldn’t maintain the exhaustion of running two grading systems at the same time, the traditional and the innovative. I had to alter my expectations; they were unrealistic. I went to my boss, convinced I had to choose: go all in or go back to nothing. I fully expected him to tell me I was crazy for even considering going full-scale into the unknown. Instead, I was met with a smile of compassion and confidence—in me!

At that moment, I realized I didn’t need a new blueprint; I needed permission to stop trying to hold up the old building while I designed the new one.

Heidi’s experience highlights the internal Neutral Zone, the personal exhaustion of trying to bridge two worlds. But when that individual exhaustion scales up to an entire building, the Rational Lens of a leader can often mistake human grief for simple resistance. This is where the Natural Lens becomes less of a theory and more of a survival strategy. As Bernard found in his first principalship, you cannot optimize a system that is still in mourning.

The Three Lenses of Organizational Change

Because we are education leaders, we’ve spent a lot of time adjusting our own postures to better meet the needs of our staff. In this work, we’ve found the frameworks of W. Richard Scott to be a saving grace. When we first learned them, they were resonant academic theories; now, as leaders, they have become a survival guide.

One of W. Richard Scott’s frameworks is a set of lenses for viewing your system:

• The Rational Lens: School is a machine. If we tweak the schedule, adjust the team meeting times, and align the standards, the “machine” will produce better results.
• The Natural Lens: School as a human ecosystem. It’s governed by relationships, unwritten rules, and the “informal” culture that often supercedes strategy.
• The Environmental (Open) Lens: School as a porous entity shaped by the community, state mandates (such as CTE requirements), and the district’s historical baggage.

While each of these lenses has merit, they are only truly valuable if applied in the right contexts. Many leadership failures occur by trying to fix a “structural” (Rational) problem when the underlying challenge is actually a “soul” (Natural) problem. Knowing your team, moving with grace and understanding that true transformation takes time will help get at the root of some of these natural problems. 

Using the Three Lenses as a Principal (Bernard)

My first experience as a principal was a “Rational Lens” failure. I walked into a building that had seen multiple leaders in five years, a result of a messy consolidation where one school lost its very name. I arrived with my rational checklists, ready to optimize the “machine.”

What I didn’t realize was that I was walking into a house of mourning. My predecessors had never addressed the grief of the staff, students, or community. Because I wasn’t leaning into the Natural Lens, the human discomfort of the work resistance began to build. I was trying to fix a “structural” problem when I actually had a “soul” problem. It wasn’t until I sought leadership coaching and embraced the Natural Lens that I realized: innovation cannot begin until the grief is heard, felt, and processed.

To move from a “machine” mindset to a human-centered one, I had to stop pushing strategy and start listening to the undercurrents. My second year as a principal became a “reset”. Instead of leading with a rational checklist, I realized sometimes it takes facing a common enemy together to build trust, so I focused on a problem everyone felt: student attendance.

By forming collaborative groups to tackle this shared pain, I began to build the psychological safety the team lacked. I wasn’t just another leader in a long line of transitions; I was someone who stayed, listened, and followed through. This cultural credibility was the “Natural Lens” in action. It proved that we could survive change together, which eventually gave us the courage to interrogate some of our most entrenched, “Rational” systems.

Using the Getting Smart Innovation Framework, I’ve realized that we cannot answer the How or the What until we address the Who. As leaders, we must put on our own oxygen masks first—through counseling, coaching, and reflection—so that we have the breath to support our teams through their own suffocating moments of change.

Conclusion

This shift in posture doesn’t happen overnight. It is a series of small, brave movements fueled by hope. Success isn’t the absence of grief or fear; it’s the presence of permission, permission from your leaders, but most importantly, permission from yourself to be a learner again.

As you reflect on this, be careful not to read through just one lens. In the ecosystem of a school, we are rarely just one thing. We are all leaders, and we are all learners. You may be an administrator learning from a teacher in the morning, only to find yourself leading a superintendent in the afternoon. You may be a teacher seeking permission from a principal while simultaneously giving that same gift of permission to a student who is terrified of failing.

We are all architects; we are all part of the building. 

Heidi Vissia is the CTE Curriculum and Instruction Coordinator at Muskegon Area ISD

Bernard Brown is the Director Career & Tech Education at Muskegon Area ISD