Do what you love — in the service of people who love what you do — with the ones you love.
When I decided to go into school administration, I knew it would give me the opportunity to work with more students and support them in ways I couldn’t as a classroom teacher. But I also knew it would come with a cost — time away from my wife, Jennifer, and our children.
So I made a promise to myself: if I was going to be fully committed to this work, I also had to be fully committed to my family. That was easier to say than to do.
One non-negotiable I set early on was coaching my kids in soccer. Coaching brought us closer — but the real magic happened during the car rides to and from practice. That’s where we’d talk about school, friends, life... and belt out our crazy songs. It started with my oldest, Jamison, then Jordan, then Jill, and finally Jacob.
Wanting to coach all of them despite my increasingly chaotic schedule, I came up with a system: I’d rent a full field, schedule practices two nights a week, and coach two or three teams at once, with help from some amazing parent assistants. As my job responsibilities grew, practice times got later and later.
“Do what you love in the service of people who love what you do.”
That quote has stuck with me more than any other — and during a recent summer league game, it came alive again.
We were down 0–3 in the first 30 minutes. I remember thinking, This is going to be a long night. But then — in true comeback fashion — the boys stormed back and won 5–3.
Of all the games I’ve coached, that one might have been our finest comeback ever.
After the game, we celebrated. We huddled up for a long, thoughtful conversation on the field. Then, one by one, the players came up to give me knucks — something they’ve done after every practice and game, win or lose. It’s their tradition. They are remarkable young men, as it is simply their way of saying thanks.
As I turned to leave the field, I saw my oldest daughter, Jamison, walking toward me, smiling as if to say, “Dad, I remember those days.” My grandson Jax ran up and asked for a hug. My granddaughter Josie wanted to race around the field with me. “Come on Papa, run with me!” Jill followed with a smile of her own. Jordan was out of town, but at that moment, I could almost see her face, too — especially when Jacob put his arms around his sisters, while my wife gazed from the stands.
My children, now grown. My grandchildren, full of joy. My players, showing their gratitude. At that moment, it felt like everything had come full circle. I was completely surrounded by family — by love.
And yes, I’ll admit it — I couldn’t help but think about Josie and Jax, and the possibility of coaching them someday. Continuing the legacy.
Farber’s quote echoed again in my mind:
Do what you love in the service of people who love what you do.
But as I stood there on the field, I thought maybe — just maybe — he didn’t finish the quote.
Perhaps it should read:
Do what you love — in the service of people who love what you do — with the ones you love.
So I made a promise to myself: if I was going to be fully committed to this work, I also had to be fully committed to my family. That was easier to say than to do.
One non-negotiable I set early on was coaching my kids in soccer. Coaching brought us closer — but the real magic happened during the car rides to and from practice. That’s where we’d talk about school, friends, life... and belt out our crazy songs. It started with my oldest, Jamison, then Jordan, then Jill, and finally Jacob.
Wanting to coach all of them despite my increasingly chaotic schedule, I came up with a system: I’d rent a full field, schedule practices two nights a week, and coach two or three teams at once, with help from some amazing parent assistants. As my job responsibilities grew, practice times got later and later.
In fact, Jacob’s last season had practices starting at 8:15 p.m. and ending around 10:00 p.m. We often would look around the empty soccer complex and say, “Where the heck is everyone?” and then just simply smile and laugh.
But those late nights are some of my favorite memories. The games were great — but it was during those practices, when no one else was around, that something special happened. We could stay as long as we wanted. We laughed, we learned, we connected and trained really hard. We grew up together on that field. And yes, I include myself when I say that — I grew up too.
As I reflect on my journey — from assistant principal, to principal, to executive director, and now superintendent — I’m incredibly thankful for all the people and experiences I’ve encountered along the way. I truly love this work. But I’m just as grateful that I carved out the time to make those moments on the soccer field happen. Because the reality is, every team I coached didn’t just feel like family — they became family.
Although Jacob is now in college, recently, I agreed to coach his summer league team — a short, 2 ½-month season — and I jumped at the chance. Over the years, I’ve grown more sentimental, and getting to coach Jacob and his teammates one more time has meant the world to me.
But those late nights are some of my favorite memories. The games were great — but it was during those practices, when no one else was around, that something special happened. We could stay as long as we wanted. We laughed, we learned, we connected and trained really hard. We grew up together on that field. And yes, I include myself when I say that — I grew up too.
As I reflect on my journey — from assistant principal, to principal, to executive director, and now superintendent — I’m incredibly thankful for all the people and experiences I’ve encountered along the way. I truly love this work. But I’m just as grateful that I carved out the time to make those moments on the soccer field happen. Because the reality is, every team I coached didn’t just feel like family — they became family.
Although Jacob is now in college, recently, I agreed to coach his summer league team — a short, 2 ½-month season — and I jumped at the chance. Over the years, I’ve grown more sentimental, and getting to coach Jacob and his teammates one more time has meant the world to me.
One of my all-time favorite quotes is from Steve Farber, author of The Radical Leap:
“Do what you love in the service of people who love what you do.”
That quote has stuck with me more than any other — and during a recent summer league game, it came alive again.
We were down 0–3 in the first 30 minutes. I remember thinking, This is going to be a long night. But then — in true comeback fashion — the boys stormed back and won 5–3.
Of all the games I’ve coached, that one might have been our finest comeback ever.
As I turned to leave the field, I saw my oldest daughter, Jamison, walking toward me, smiling as if to say, “Dad, I remember those days.” My grandson Jax ran up and asked for a hug. My granddaughter Josie wanted to race around the field with me. “Come on Papa, run with me!” Jill followed with a smile of her own. Jordan was out of town, but at that moment, I could almost see her face, too — especially when Jacob put his arms around his sisters, while my wife gazed from the stands.
My children, now grown. My grandchildren, full of joy. My players, showing their gratitude. At that moment, it felt like everything had come full circle. I was completely surrounded by family — by love.
And yes, I’ll admit it — I couldn’t help but think about Josie and Jax, and the possibility of coaching them someday. Continuing the legacy.
Farber’s quote echoed again in my mind:
Do what you love in the service of people who love what you do.
But as I stood there on the field, I thought maybe — just maybe — he didn’t finish the quote.
Perhaps it should read:
Do what you love — in the service of people who love what you do — with the ones you love.
And perhaps someday soon, I’ll be standing on those sidelines with my children again — coaching Josie and Jax... and hopefully many more grandkids to come.
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