“I’m Tired, Boss”

A common question I’m asked is: What’s the difference between being a teacher and being a principal?
My response is always the same: Have you seen The Green Mile?

The Green Mile centers on death row inmate John Coffey (Michael Clarke Duncan), who has been sentenced to death for the rape and murder of two children. As the film unfolds, we learn that John is not a monster at all—he is a miracle worker, gifted with the ability to remove pain from those who are suffering.

In one powerful scene, prison guard Paul Edgecomb (Tom Hanks) is experiencing unbearable pain caused by a severe bladder infection. John calls Paul over to his cell, grabs him, and pulls him close—initially causing Paul to fear for his life. Moments later, Paul realizes John isn’t trying to hurt him; he’s trying to help him. The scene ends with Paul asking, “What did you just do to me?” John simply replies, “I helped it. Didn’t I help it?”

By the end of the film, John has deeply impacted everyone around him. But the years of absorbing others’ pain and suffering have taken a tremendous toll.

Eventually, John can no longer carry the weight of the world’s ugliness. “I’m tired, boss,” he confesses. He explains to Paul that carrying out the death sentence will finally bring an end to his constant suffering.

Let me be clear: I do not believe the job of a principal is equivalent to that of a miracle worker. But as hyperbole, John Coffey’s character captures something important about the emotional weight that comes with the role.

As a former professor once told me, the job of a principal is “mess management.” Those messes take many forms, and a student mess often looks very different from a teacher mess.

It’s challenging enough to manage everything that happens within a school’s walls, but there are also countless situations outside the building that directly impact students. Educators can all attest to the heartbreaking stories we learn about the children we serve. As a principal, it is my responsibility to truly know my students—and that includes hearing about the trauma, instability, and struggles many of them face daily. Like John Coffey, principals are asked to absorb these realities and do whatever we can to lessen their impact. But at the end of the day, we can never fully stop the pain that exists beyond our reach.

Being a principal also means ensuring that staff feel heard, supported, and cared for. A consequence of that responsibility is that people bring you their messes. Sometimes it’s a dispute between colleagues. Other times, it’s a problem that has nothing to do with school but everything to do with life. Having an open-door policy means being willing to support educators with whatever they carry through it. Part of the job is that everyone’s problems become your problems. Just as John Coffey tried to ease Paul’s suffering, principals do their best to relieve as much stress and pain from teachers as possible.

This post isn’t meant as a vent or a complaint. It’s simply an explanation of the emotional weight principals carry day to day. I believe I am a good listener. I genuinely care about others, and I will do whatever I can to help people experience as much joy in their lives as I do in mine.

But sometimes, when I get a call from my boss—the superintendent—and he asks how I’m doing, I feel like saying:

“I’m tired, boss.”