BethAnne Hines

Why water?

I've had several people ask why water has become such a recurring theme in the posts leading up to my book release.

The truth is, water has always been the place where I find peace. Whether it's the ocean, a quiet lake, a winding river, or a waterfall tucked away in the mountains, something about the water settles my soul. It has always been where I go to think, to pray, to breathe, and to remember who I am.

When life feels heavy, water reminds me to be still. When I need clarity, it helps me see beyond the noise. Somehow, every season of reflection and renewal in my life seems to begin near the water.

As I wrote Becoming Through Mentorship, I realized that mentorship has done much the same thing. The right people have a way of calming the chaos, broadening our perspective, and helping us become who we were created to be.

So, before I ever chose a cover photo, I knew it had to include water.

Because this story isn't just about my journey. It's about the people who helped me find my way.

What does the word Wayfinder mean to you?

Carrying the Weight While Building Joy

This morning during worship, my mind wandered.

Not because I wasn't listening. Not because I wasn't present. But because I was thinking about my people.

As I stood there, I found myself thinking about the teachers and staff who will soon walk back through our doors carrying burdens that most of the world will never see. I thought about the conversations that have already happened this summer. The tears. The fears. The uncertainty. The phone calls that begin with, "Do you have a minute?" when you know that minute is about to become much more.

And it hit me.

Leading a school has similarities to leading a church.

Let me be clear. They are not the same, and I would never pretend they are. But there is one similarity that struck me this morning. Both are filled with people who trust you with some of the heaviest moments of their lives.

That is the part of leadership they don't prepare you for.

Graduate programs teach us instructional leadership. Conferences teach us data analysis. We learn about budgeting, compliance, accountability systems, strategic planning, and difficult conversations. But no one teaches you what it feels like when someone walks into your office and shares that their marriage is falling apart. No one teaches you how to respond when a staff member has lost a child, received a devastating diagnosis, is caring for aging parents, or is wondering how they are going to pay their bills this month.

We are not counselors.

Most of the time, our people aren't looking for answers. They simply need someone who will listen, care, and remind them they aren't carrying their burden alone. We are all complete humans who happen to work in schools. Our staff members don't stop being spouses, parents, caregivers, sons, daughters, or friends when they pull into the parking lot each morning. They bring every part of themselves with them, and as principals, we have the privilege and responsibility of caring for the whole person, not just the employee.

That means we carry those stories with us as we walk the halls.

We celebrate students in the cafeteria while thinking about the teacher who just received difficult medical news. We encourage a first-year teacher while worrying about another whose home life is unraveling. We greet children with a smile while quietly carrying conversations that would break most people's hearts.

You have to carry the weight and build joy at the same time.

We do it because we know something incredibly important. The adults matter. When the adults are cared for, the students benefit. Every childhood experience inside our schools is shaped by the well-being of the adults who serve there. That responsibility is beautiful, but it is also incredibly heavy.

This week I had the privilege of taking my leadership team on a retreat. Somewhere between the conversations, the laughter, the planning, and simply spending time together, God reminded me of something I often forget.

He never intended for one person to carry it all alone.

My leadership team doesn't have to know every detail of every conversation. They don't have to carry every burden. But they can help carry me.

More importantly, they want to help carry me.

Sometimes the loneliest part of leadership isn't that no one is willing to help. It's that we've convinced ourselves we have to protect everyone else from the weight we're carrying.

Over time, self-protection becomes armor.

And armor is useful...until you forget how to take it off.

The funny thing is, I don't think most principals build that armor because we don't want people in. I think we build it because we're afraid to feel one more thing too deeply.

Every conversation. Every tragedy. Every disappointment. Every fear that someone entrusts to us gets tucked away somewhere inside. We keep moving because we have to. There are buses to unload, classrooms to visit, meetings to attend, and children who deserve our very best.

So we tighten the armor a little more.

Not because we don't care.

Because we care so much.

Sometimes it feels like if we let ourselves fully feel one more heartbreak, we might collapse under the weight of it all. We convince ourselves that if we let one tear fall, it might open the floodgates, and we're not sure we'd be able to put ourselves back together before the next person needs us.

But maybe that isn't a bad thing.

Maybe we weren't designed to hold all of that inside.

Somewhere along the way, I started believing that carrying the heavy was part of being a good principal. This morning, God reminded me that carrying it isn't the same thing as surrendering it.

Leadership requires empathy, and empathy requires presence. But presence becomes increasingly difficult when we never unload the heavy. What begins as self-protection can quietly become emotional distance, and the wall we believed was keeping us safe can unintentionally keep others out as well.

For me, that release happens in worship.

When I truly allow myself to get lost in worship, the load begins to lift, even if only for a little while. The problems are still there when I leave. The conversations still need to happen. The decisions are still waiting on Monday morning. But in those moments, I'm reminded that God never asked me to carry all of this by myself.

In fact, He never intended for me to.

I can spend my days reminding teachers, parents, and students that they don't have to carry their burdens alone while quietly forgetting that truth myself. I grip the weight so tightly, believing it's simply part of being a good leader, when all along God has been gently inviting me to hand it back to Him.

I'm still learning how to do that.

Sometimes I carry my armor into church too. I stand there physically present while mentally replaying meetings, difficult conversations, and decisions that still need to be made. This morning reminded me that even our places of rest can become places where we continue carrying the load if we aren't intentional about laying it down.

Maybe that's why worship feels like such a gift. For a little while, I remember that the weight was never mine to hold in the first place.

You have to find a way to unpack that load every single day. Every single week. Whatever that looks like for you.

Maybe it's worship. Maybe it's prayer. Maybe it's your spouse, trusted friends, a mentor, a counselor, long walks, or quiet moments before everyone else wakes up. The method may look different, but the principle is the same.

Find what helps you unload the heavy.

Because if you don't, it will eventually consume you. It will steal your joy, rob you of your compassion, and slowly convince you that surviving is the same thing as leading.

As another school year begins, that's my challenge to every principal reading this. Lead boldly. Care deeply. Carry what you must, but don't carry it alone. Trust your leadership team. Let people love you the way you spend every day trying to love them. And don't forget to give the heavy back to the One who never intended for you to carry it in the first place.

Trust me, I'm preaching to myself more than anyone else.

This year, I'm choosing to walk fully in my purpose, to let my passion shine, and to find joy in the journey again.

Maybe the strongest thing a principal can do this year isn't carry more.

Maybe it's learn to surrender more.

Because our students deserve leaders who know how to carry hope more often than they carry the heavy.

The work is heavy.

But we were never meant to carry it by ourselves.

Every one of us has people who helped shape our story.

Looking back on my own journey, I can see the mentors who believed in me, challenged me, encouraged me, and helped me become the leader I am today.

This book is a thank you to the people who helped write mine.

If you could thank one mentor for one thing, what would it be?

The cover isn't just a picture. It's part of the story.

When I was thinking about what mentorship has meant in my own life, I kept coming back to one image: a window.

Every time I look at this cover, I'm reminded that none of us gets where we are alone. Someone believed in us. Someone challenged us. Someone encouraged us. Someone opened a door we didn't even know existed.

The best mentors don't tell us exactly where to go. They help us see possibilities we couldn't see on our own. They see potential before we do, and because they believed in us, we begin to believe in ourselves.

That's the story behind this cover.

Who is someone who helped you see your potential before you saw it yourself? I'd love to hear about them. If they're on Facebook, tag them and let them know the difference they made.

There are moments in a journey that make everything feel a little more real.

Today is one of those moments.

After months of writing, reflecting, revising, and praying, I'm finally able to share the cover of my upcoming book...

Becoming Through Mentorship: A View Into the Leaders Who Shaped Us

This book isn't just about leadership.
It's about the teachers, principals, coaches, friends, family members, and colleagues who believed in us before we believed in ourselves. It's about the conversations that changed our direction, the quiet encouragement that built our confidence, and the responsibility we each have to become that person for someone else.

My hope is that these pages remind you of the people who helped shape your story and inspires you to shape someone else's.

I'd love to know...
What does this cover make you think or feel before you've even read a single page?

Thank you for cheering me on through this journey. I can't wait to share more with you soon.

What if schools did more than respond to students’ emotional and behavioral needs? What if we intentionally designed systems to help them grow?

I recently had the opportunity to join the Hogg Foundation for Mental Health podcast to share how our Refocus and Reset Rooms have become part of a campuswide, multi-tiered approach to student well-being at Arp Elementary. We talked about moving beyond the traditional mindset of “behave or be punished” and instead teaching children how to regulate their emotions, resolve conflict, and develop the skills they need to return to the classroom successfully.

As I prepare to release my upcoming book on mentorship, I keep recognizing the same truth in every part of leadership: growth rarely happens by accident. Whether we are supporting a struggling student, developing a teacher, or mentoring an emerging leader, people need someone willing to see beyond the behavior or performance in front of them. They need guidance, appropriate support, honest feedback, and someone who believes they are capable of becoming more.

Mentorship is not simply giving advice. It is helping create the conditions in which another person can grow. In many ways, that is exactly what we are trying to do for our students through Refocus and Reset.

I am grateful to the Hogg Foundation for giving me the opportunity to share our journey and the work of the incredible educators who bring this vision to life each day.

Listen here: https://hogg.utexas.edu/educators-as-architects-of-change

Educators As Architects of Change | Hogg Foundation for Mental Health Beth Hines takes a whole system approach to student mental health through a program at Arp Elementary School.

Today, I officially defended my dissertation... and I can finally say Dr. Barbara BethAnne Hines. ❤️🎓

This journey has been filled with long nights, early mornings, countless revisions, moments of doubt, and more grace than I could have imagined. Today wasn't just the end of a dissertation, it was the culmination of years spent learning, growing, and becoming the leader, researcher, and author I hoped to be.

My research focused on the power of Professional Learning Communities and the impact they can have on teachers and student learning. More than earning a title, my hope is that this work will continue to make a difference in schools and support educators who pour so much into children every day.

To my family, friends, colleagues, professors, and everyone who prayed, encouraged, edited, listened, and believed in me, thank you. I did not walk this journey alone.

Now... it's time to put "Dr." in front of my name, finish launching this book, and keep helping educators dream big, lead well, and never stop growing.
The best is still ahead. 💙

I am so excited to share that my article, The Empty Chair, was published by TEPSA, the professional organization for Texas elementary principals.

This piece comes straight from the heart of the work I love most: helping schools protect PLC time, keep the focus on real students, and remember why the hard work matters. The “empty chair” is a simple reminder that every conversation, every strategy, and every follow-up should come back to one child who needs us to keep showing up.

I would love for you to read it and share it with an educator or leader who believes one child is always worth the work.

https://www.tepsa.org/2026/06/29/the-empty-chair/

As this long-awaited day approaches, I'm asking for a few extra prayers. Please pray that the Lord brings to mind everything I need to remember, gives me clarity in my words, and allows me to honor Him through this milestone. Thank you for your encouragement and prayers throughout this journey.