Leading Around the Edges
A reflection on an award I didn’t fully understand at the time—and why it still matters
More than twenty years ago, when I was principal in the Kirkwood School District, Assistant Superintendent Deborah Holmes handed me an award with a title so intriguing it has lived rent‑free in my mind ever since:
“Leading Around the Edges.”
I remember smiling, shaking her hand, and thinking, Well, that’s… specific. I also remember wondering whether this was a compliment or a gentle Midwestern way of saying, “B.R., you are a lot.”
Because let’s be honest: I was not a quiet, subtle, whisper‑in-the-corner kind of leader. If anything, I led like a St. Bernard who had just spotted a sandwich—bounding into the room, full of enthusiasm, occasionally knocking over a lamp or two, but always with love and purpose.
So why “around the edges”? Why not “charging through the center” or “leading with joyful chaos,” which might have been more accurate?
I’ve spent two decades turning that phrase over like a smooth stone in my pocket, and I think I finally understand what Deborah saw.
The Edges Are Where the Real Work Happens
Leadership books love to talk about the center—vision statements, strategic plans, the big desk with the matching chair.
But the edges? That’s where the heartbeat of a school lives.
The edges are where the kids who don’t quite fit the mold hang out. The edges are where teachers whisper their real fears and their wildest ideas. The edges are where culture shifts, where trust grows, where possibility sneaks in through the side door.
And even though I was loud, animated, and occasionally dramatic enough to qualify for my own sound effects, I always gravitated toward those spaces. Not because I was avoiding the center, but because the edges felt more human, more honest, more alive.
A Compliment Wrapped in Curiosity
At first, I wondered if “Leading Around the Edges” meant:
“You don’t always follow the script.”
“You tend to color outside the lines.”
“You’re allergic to doing things the way they’ve always been done.”
All true. But incomplete.
Over time, I realized it was something deeper. It was an acknowledgment that leadership doesn’t have to be rigid or hierarchical to be effective. It can be relational, improvisational, and—yes—occasionally messy.
It can be loud and loving at the same time. It can be bold without being domineering. It can be joyful without being frivolous.
It can look like a St. Bernard barreling through the living room… and still get everyone where they need to go.
The Edges Are Where People Feel Seen
If I had a leadership philosophy back then (and I certainly didn’t write one down), it would have been this:
Go where people are. Meet them in the margins. Make sure no one feels invisible.
That meant:
noticing the kid who avoided eye contact
listening to the teacher who was afraid to speak up
championing the idea that didn’t yet have a champion
creating a culture where laughter was allowed and humanity was expected
Leading around the edges wasn’t about being quiet. It was about being present.
It was about showing up in the places where people needed a leader who wasn’t afraid to sit beside them, cheer for them, or nudge them toward something better.
Why I Still Think About It
I think those words stayed with me because they named something I didn’t yet know about myself.
They named the way I led then. They name the way I still strive to lead now.
In community work. In mentoring. In writing. In hosting. In the small, everyday ways we try to make life kinder for the people around us.
The Energizer
I wasn’t the leader quietly observing from the sidelines. I was the one moving through hallways like a weather system—warm, gusty, occasionally rearranging the furniture—but always trying to lift people up. And even with all that energy, I still found myself drawn to the edges, because that’s where people let you see who they really are.
And if that’s my legacy, I’ll take it.
Even if it took me twenty years—and a few knocked‑over lamps—to understand the award.