2026 Top Four Superintendents Address Battling the Isolation of the Job

Four superintendents. Four states. Four very different communities.

From Texas to Maine. From Maryland to Kentucky. Large and small districts. Growing and declining enrollments. Diverse economic realities. Distinct local contexts, and yet, despite the differences, we share a common challenge — the quiet weight of isolation that comes with the role of Superintendent.

As Demetrus Liggins, Superintendent of Fayette County Public Schools, so powerfully described in his blog, the superintendency can at times feel like occupying the loneliest seat in the room.

The responsibility is immense. The expectations are unrelenting. The decisions are deeply personal and profoundly public. And often, there are very few spaces where superintendents can speak candidly about the emotional demands of the work.

The Story Behind This Post

The four of us — Roosevelt Nivens (Texas), Demetrus Liggins (Kentucky), Sonja Santelises (Maryland), and I, Heather Perry (Maine) — came together as finalists in AASA's 2026 National Superintendent of the Year^® program. Through the Final 4 selection process and our time together at the 2026 National Conference on Education, we built professional respect and an authentic connection. We celebrated Roosevelt’s well-deserved recognition and left Nashville grateful for the experience — and for one another.

We stayed connected through a simple group chat, and about a week later, Demetrus shared his blog, “The Loneliest Seat in the Room.”

Even with strong teams and supportive boards, ultimate accountability often rests on one set of shoulders. The loneliness is not about a lack of support; it’s about owning the decisions that affect students, staff, and families.

It immediately struck a chord with each of us.

Roosevelt responded, “My favorite part… ‘because cynicism is the fastest way to lose your purpose.’” Sonja shared, “You captured the work of leadership so powerfully and beautifully in this piece.” And my response was simple: “You nailed it.”

The piece resonated because it named something every superintendent knows but rarely says aloud.

We realized this conversation was bigger than the four of us. It deserved to be shared — expanded through our collective reflections — not as a complaint about the role, but as an honest acknowledgment of its humanity.

From the Author, Demetrus Liggins:

“The Loneliest Seat in the Room” gives voice to the internal reality of leadership — the reflection and responsibility most people never see. Many observe the position, but few understand the weight that comes with it. This piece goes beyond describing the role; it highlights the responsibility it carries and the courage it requires.

It reminds us that leadership is not measured by applause or visible wins, but by the quiet, daily decisions made when the stakes are high, and the path forward isn’t easy. Even with strong teams and supportive boards, ultimate accountability often rests on one set of shoulders. The loneliness is not about a lack of support; it’s about owning the decisions that affect students, staff, and families.

The future of public education depends on leaders who remain hopeful. Hopeful about students. Hopeful about the staff. Hopeful about our communities. Hopeful about what is possible. Connection fuels that hope.

In writing it, my goal was to remind current and aspiring superintendents that the hardest part of the role is not criticism or pressure, but the expectation to remain steady and thoughtful when every decision matters. More than naming that weight, the blog intends to honor those who carry it with integrity and invites others to see leadership for what it truly is: service above self.

The Takeaway: Choosing Connection Over Isolation

Isolation may be part of the job — but it does not have to define it.

Our own story is proof. Four leaders from different corners of the country — brought together through the 2026 National Superintendent of the Year® process — chose not to let the experience end with a ceremony in Nashville. We chose to stay connected. A simple group chat became a space for encouragement, candor, reflection, and shared purpose. What began as professional recognition evolved into professional sustenance. In many ways, we unintentionally modeled the very antidote to isolation that Demetrus named in his blog: connection rooted in trust.

The future of public education depends on leaders who remain hopeful. Hopeful about students. Hopeful about the staff. Hopeful about our communities. Hopeful about what is possible. Connection fuels that hope.

The seat may sometimes feel like the loneliest seat in the room. But when we choose community, when we reach out instead of retreat, we discover that none of us is truly sitting there alone.  I thank my new lifelong friends, Roosevelt, Demetrus, and Sonja, for this important lesson, and I hope that by sharing it, you all have been strengthened in your leadership as well!