When I walked into my current school for the first time as principal, I could feel the legacy of the leaders who came before me.

Not in grand, dramatic ways, but in tiny, unmistakable signals.

The staff worked well together.

Expectations were clear.

The building felt warm, lived-in, and loved.

There were systems, rhythms, and routines that made it easy to lean in and get to work.

And then there was the folder: a simple legal-size manila folder, left behind by my predecessor, full of tasks, reminders, and “don’t forget” items.

It was a footprint.

A small, deliberate choice left by my predecessor.

And it was a kindness.

And a signal.

A way of saying, I cared about this place, and now I care for you as you begin.

I finished every task in that folder a long time ago, but I still keep it on my shelf.

It’s a small reminder of the footprints she and other principals left, intentionally and unintentionally, throughout the school.

The building is full of those footprints.

Small systems that still quietly hum along.

Routines that don’t need decoding.

A staff that knows how to collaborate well, even after coming through difficult, sometimes traumatic circumstances.

And then there’s the Golden Shoe, an actual enormous gold-painted shoe mounted on a trophy base, studded with little plaques engraved with the names of students from years gone by.

The Golden Shoe is retired now, a relic of another era.

But it sits in my office in a place of prominence, as a curiosity, and a reminder of the giants who came before me.

A literal and figurative footprint.

These subtle inheritances say something about the legacy we leave long after we lock the office door for the last time.

Legacy shows up in three distinct ways…

This is the legacy every educator thinks about: the long arc of impact.

The invisible thread that weaves through students’ lives long after they leave our classrooms.

We hope our work shapes who they become: their confidence, curiosity, sense of belonging, and belief in their own capability.

It’s why most of us got into this work in the first place.

And it matters more than anything else.

There’s another layer, too: the culture, values, and shared practices that define a school across generations.

In my context, that includes a focus on literacy, numeracy, and Truth and Reconciliation.

It includes ways to help teachers and teaching assistants do their jobs.

It also includes daily schedules and habits that make school feel safe and easy to understand.

Plus, it creates a learning environment where everyone wants to do their best.

These are the things that become a school’s heartbeat.

A school remembers the habits we nurture.

But there is a quieter kind of legacy that often goes unnoticed until we’re actually packing up our office.

It’s the legacy we leave for the next principal.

Not in the form of “do it my way,” but in the form of clarity, warmth, and shared ownership:

This kind of legacy is built on values like trust and humility, relationships, and the gradual release of responsibility.

Early in a tenure, we listen and learn.

In the middle, we shape and build.

And near the end, we step back, trusting the team to carry the work forward, knowing it isn’t ours to own.

A school that is easy to inherit is a school designed with everyone in mind, not just the current leader.

What might shift in our leadership if we held all three legacies at once — students, community, and each other?

And what footprints might we leave — quiet, humble, and deeply helpful — for the leader who follows us?

If you want community, challenge, and meaningful conversations about leadership every single week, you’re in the right place.

This way of thinking exemplifies the kind of leader who thrives in the Mastermind.

Come, create footprints with us.

Every leader leaves footprints behind.

Some are obvious, like the “Golden Shoe” kinds of things — programs, awards, or traditions everyone sees.

But most are subtle, like habits, rhythms, and experiences.

You leave imprints on the daily life of your school through the way meetings start, how kids are greeted, and how teachers support each other when no one’s watching.

This week, take ten intentional minutes to do three things:

Legacy is the act of planting behaviours and beliefs that make the work easier — and better — for the people who come after you.