It's not about whether you said it... it's about whether they heard it.

If you ask my wife what my biggest weakness is, she’ll say communication.

Not snakes. Not heights. Not forgetting to take the trash out. (Okay, also that.)

As a school superintendent, that’s unacceptable. So, here’s the funny part: because I know I’m not a natural communicator (shoutout to Kelsea for the constant reminder), I’m intentional on overcommunicating.

And it starts with a whale.

There’s a whale out in the Pacific Ocean who sings at 52 hertz. Every other whale sings between 15 and 30. That means for the last few decades, this whale has been calling out across the ocean, and no other whale has ever answered. Not because they don’t care. Not because they’re rude. They literally can’t hear it.

They’re on different frequencies.

That’s one of my favorite stories to tell school boards, teachers, and anyone willing to listen—because sometimes we feel like that whale. We’re communicating… and nobody’s responding. But here’s the kicker:

Maybe they’re not ignoring us. Maybe we’re just speaking on the wrong frequency.

As a leader, I’ve learned this the hard way. I used to believe communication was about what I was saying. Now I know it’s about what others are hearing. That means I overcommunicate with my board. I clarify with my staff. I check in with my community. And I do my best to meet them on their frequency—not mine.

So yes, I may still send three versions of the same message. Take my Friday Note to the Board, for example. Every week, I send out a communication that includes several sections—an Enrollment Update, Celebrations, Recaps of the Week, Upcoming Events, Legislative Updates, Bond Progress, and even a Preview of the Upcoming Board Agenda. It’s not just a quick note—it’s a full-blown newsletter that ensures our board stays in the loop and sees the heartbeat of the district in real time. But here’s the kicker: not everyone wants to read a long message at the end of the week (I get it—emails can pile up like STAAR testing stress). So, I also record a video version of the note. That way, if someone prefers to watch or listen while driving, mowing the lawn, or chasing toddlers around the living room, they still get the message. And if that’s not enough, there’s a steady drip of communication via texts throughout the week. Because it’s not just about saying something once—it’s about saying it in a way that people can actually hear it, on their frequency.

If you want connection, you have to tune in to how people feel, learn, and make meaning. You have to care enough to adjust the way you speak so others can hear you.

Leadership isn’t about having the loudest voice in the room.

It’s about being heard by the people who matter most.

So yes, I overcommunicate. Not because I love the sound of my own voice (although Whit and Chan Chan may disagree), but because I know that communication isn’t a one-and-done. It’s daily, intentional, and relentless.

Oh—and one last thing…

Kelsea still says I’m a poor communicator. And maybe that’s fair.

But if she would just check my Google Calendar, maybe she’d hear me loud and clear.

Moral of the story: Communicate with connection, not just content. And remember—it’s not about whether you said it… it’s about whether they heard it.