From Substitute Teacher to Superintendent to Higher Ed Partner: How my Doctoral Work Made Me a More Attuned and Authentic Leader
by Dr. Donald James, Executive Director, CITE
I never planned on becoming a superintendent. I certainly never imagined that one day I would be working alongside universities to design graduate programs for the next generation of teachers, counselors, and school leaders. My career began the way many educators’ stories do—unexpectedly, with a substitute teacher badge clipped to my shirt.
The path from those early days in classrooms in North Philadelphia and Lower Manhattan to district leadership and higher education was anything but linear. It was shaped by students, colleagues, mentors, and—perhaps most powerfully—by moments that forced me to confront my own assumptions about leadership and what it truly means to listen.
Starting in the Classroom
My first real taste of teaching came in schools where resilience wasn’t a buzzword—it was a daily reality. In North Philadelphia, urgency ruled the day. Students who lacked food, clean clothes, or even electricity at home needed those needs addressed before learning could begin. In Lower Manhattan, English was often a second language, and nearly every parent worked outside the home.
Each setting taught me critical lessons. First, deep, authentic relationships are the foundation of meaningful work in schools. Second, students benefit most when the adults around them are aligned, supported, and genuinely committed to their growth. Just as important, I began to learn that support starts with listening—listening not to respond, but listening to understand the context, the struggle, and the aspiration behind what people say.
Those early years grounded me. They shaped my belief that leadership is not about authority. It’s about presence, trust, and the ability to listen deeply enough to build shared purpose.
Growing Into Leadership
As I moved from teacher to principal, to district administrator, and eventually superintendent, I carried those beliefs with me. I viewed leadership as service. I worked to be visible, accessible, and engaged. I walked buildings, spent time in classrooms, and made it a priority to hear directly from teachers about the realities of their day.
I believed I was listening for understanding. And in many ways, I was.
But my doctoral work challenged me to see that good intentions do not always translate into positive impact.
The Doctoral Work That Changed Everything
My doctoral program wasn’t just academic—it was deeply personal. It forced me to examine not only what I did as a leader, but how my actions were experienced by the people I served.
One moment from my dissertation interviews has stayed with me.
I interviewed a teacher I deeply respected—someone I considered a trusted colleague and friend. I asked about my practice of spending full days doing “walkthroughs” that were intended to allow me to understand what teachers were dealing with throughout the day. I would visit classrooms multiple times, carrying a notepad where I made notes about how I could assist teachers; notes such as, perhaps they needed more furniture, or paper, or classroom library books or there were too many interruptions out of the teacher’s control, etc.—notes I was offered to share with teachers.
I believed this transparency built trust.
Then she said something I never expected.
“If you walked in without the pad, I was fine. If you walked in with the pad, I was a nervous wreck—and I wasn’t myself.”
I was stunned.
So I asked other teachers.
They said the same thing.
The Shock of Introspection
That moment hit me harder than any leadership workshop or textbook ever could. I thought I was listening. I thought I was being supportive. But I wasn’t listening closely enough to how my actions made people feel.
My intention was growth. Their experience was anxiety.
That disconnect changed me. It made clear that leadership isn’t just about being present—it’s about being attuned. Listening for understanding means paying attention not only to words, but to emotional responses, unspoken concerns, and the meaning people attach to our actions.
The Lesson of Time
Another theme that emerged in my research was time.
As a school leader, teachers consistently told me they needed more of it. In response, I worked to build team meeting and common planning time into the schedule. I believed I was giving them exactly what they wanted.
But when I truly listened—when I listened for understanding—they told me something else.
What they wanted wasn’t more structure. It was breathing room. Unstructured time to think, collaborate organically, and solve problems without an agenda or outcome dictated in advance.
Again, intention versus impact.
Where the Journey Led
Rather than making me defensive, those insights made me grateful. They made me better. I became more transparent about my learning and shared these experiences openly as part of my leadership practice. I didn’t just tell the story—I adjusted how I showed up.
Authentic relationships. Time that honored professional trust. And, most importantly, listening for understanding became daily commitments, not slogans.
Today, in my work with higher education partners, those lessons guide everything I do. Whether designing graduate programs or supporting future educators and leaders, I remain focused on preparing professionals who understand that leadership is less about having answers and more about asking better questions—and truly listening to the responses.
My journey—from substitute teacher to superintendent to higher-ed partner—has been defined by many moments. But the most transformative were the ones that required me to look inward.
Because leadership grows when ego shrinks. Leadership deepens when listening expands. And leadership becomes meaningful when we understand not just what we do, but how it is experienced by the people we serve.
Learn more about School Building and District Leadership at www.citeadmin.com
Learn about our doctoral programs at www.citesage.com (for CSA / SAANYS members) and www.citesaintpeters.com (open to administrators and teachers).
