Leaders don’t lose control when things get loud. They listen longer so they can lead better. On Monday, you got the rule: Ask more before you answer. Slow down your mouth, speed up your brain. On Wednesday, you saw the cost of skipping it: One coordinator’s fast decision at a toy giveaway took a good plan and turned it into chaos and injuries. The difference wasn’t caring more. The difference was listening first instead of exploding. Today is where you find out if this stayed a “nice concept”… or actually changed how you lead under pressure. 1. Reflect: Where Did You Prove It? Answer these in the comments or your notebook: 1. Where did you actually lead with listening? Describe one moment this week where you paused and listened before reacting. - What was happening? - What did you ask? - How did the other person respond? 2. What changed because you didn’t react? Compared to your old pattern, what was different? - Less conflict? - Clearer information? - Better decision? - Staff or parents felt more respected? 3. Where did you still react first? Name one time you snapped, defended, or took over. If you could replay it using “lead with listening,” what would you do or say differently? If you can’t name a moment, that’s feedback too: the habit isn’t built yet. 2. Call Out a Win Drop a shout-out: Who on your team modeled real listening under pressure this week? What exactly did they do that showed they listened first and reacted second? Name them and describe the moment. You’re teaching your team what “good leadership” looks like by pointing at real behavior, not posters on the wall. When you listen: People feel safe --> they tell the truth. Truth removes fluff Clear. Direct. Without dancing around it. Lock in that momentum.

The Toy Giveaway That Exploded… and What Saved It This rec center wasn’t known for big special events. No huge festivals. No massive giveaways. Just normal programming. Then we decided to run a Christmas Toy Giveaway. And not just repeat last year. Level it up. We secured 50% more toys than the previous year. We added more activities to actually engage the community, not just stand in line. We redesigned the whole setup. Our old system was built for 150 kids. Now we had 300. On the whiteboard, it looked tight. In real life, it started falling apart at the exact moment it mattered most. When it was time to pass out toys, we had: All toys staged inside the building A line outside Kids walking up to the door to get a toy Then the human element kicked in: Parents started pushing. People complained about the toys they were getting. Tension went up. Patience went down. And all that pressure funneled onto one person: my coordinator. He’s hearing complaints. He’s watching what feels like a slow line. He’s overwhelmed, and instead of slowing down, he speeds up. Without telling anyone, he decides, “I’ll fix it.” He opens a second section and starts handing out toys from there. Predictably, once people see this: They run toward the new section. Pushing. Shoving. Multiple participants get knocked around and injured. We lose track of who has gotten toys. We run out for certain age groups. This is the nightmare scenario: We tried to do more good… and we accidentally created more chaos. And I was pissed. Like, genuinely heated. His one quick, solo decision just nuked the system we built to keep people safe. In that moment, I had two options: Blow up on him and prove I’m the boss. Lead with listening and actually fix the problem. I took a breath. Pulled him aside. No audience. “Hey, you look frustrated. It looks like you decided to take matters into your own hands. Walk me through your reasoning.” He tells me: “The line wasn’t moving.” “Parents were coming at me.”

Most recreation leaders aren’t failing because they don’t care. They’re failing because they’re too fast. Something goes wrong and we jump: ⚫️A parent complains and we start defending the program before we even understand what happened. ⚫️A staff messes up and we correct them in front of everyone just to “send a message.” ⚫️A situation gets messy and we take over, doing it ourselves instead of slowing down long enough to coach. It feels like leadership in the moment. It feels like “getting things done.” But here’s what reactive leadership actually does over time: ⚫️Staff stop telling you the full story, because they expect a reaction, not understanding. ⚫️Parents stop trusting you, because your answers feel rushed and inconsistent. ⚫️You burn out, because every problem still has to run through you. The fix is not more passion. It’s more pause. This week’s rule: Pause, then probe. Listen long enough to see the real problem before you touch it. Your one move for this week Today, pick one situation that normally triggers you: ⚫️A parent complaint ⚫️A staff mistake ⚫️A scheduling or space conflict When it happens, do this instead of reacting: 1. Take a silent 3-second pause. 2. Ask: “Can you walk me through what happened from your point of view?” 3. Ask: “What have you already tried or thought about?” Then decide. Run that play once today. Notice how the conversation changes when you lead with listening instead of speed. Drop in the poll, then comment: “What’s one situation this week where I will practice pausing before reacting?” Let’s keep the momentum rolling.

Reflection: This week was all about taking ownership before earning the title. Think back on the responsibilities you fully owned—big or small. Where did you step up without being asked? Where did you hesitate, waiting for direction? What was the result when you acted versus when you held back? Ownership > Title. Leaders aren’t defined by their position—they’re defined by the problems they solve without waiting. The more you act in alignment with standards, goals, and mission, the faster your influence grows. Pick one responsibility next week you will fully own from start to finish. Identify obstacles before they arise and solve them proactively. Share below what you’re taking on—hold yourself accountable. Honest reflection

When I first started as a recreation professional, I wasn’t the lead instructor—I was assisting one of the best. His Fitness Bootcamp was packed every week. People followed him from center to center. The program had his name written all over it. At first, my job was simple: learn the structure, understand the standard, and support the flow. Then the shift happened. After weeks of mentorship, he started handing me pieces of the class. First a segment. Then half the session. Eventually, he told me: “You understand the standard. This is your class now.” That’s when fear showed up. I wasn’t worried about the title—I was worried about the responsibility. Would people stay? Could I uphold the standard he built? Sensing that hesitation, he said something I’ll never forget: “Never underestimate yourself. Never underprice your service. You’re ready—and you’ll only get better.” That’s when ownership clicked. I stopped trying to replace him and started protecting the standard. I added my own style. Introduced themed workouts. Adapted when equipment was missing. Tested ideas, adjusted fast, and kept improving. Soon, problems stopped going to him- they came to me. Not because I had the title—but because I owned the responsibility. Lesson: Titles are given. Ownership is taken. When you own the responsibility, align with the standard, and solve problems without waiting—you become the leader people trust. Where can you stop waiting for the title—and start owning the responsibility today?