“You Know You’re One of Them”: My (Sometimes Hilarious) Education in Humility as a Non-Native School Leader in Alaska

The most important lesson I learned in Alaska? No matter how many books you read or workshops you attend, you’re still an outsider, and that’s not a flaw, but a starting point for real growth.

The Overconfident Newcomer

When I first landed in Alaska, I was a bundle of nerves and excitement, clutching my freshly minted Ed Leadership degree from the University of Wyoming. Wyoming had taught me that leadership was a straight line: identify the problem, apply the solution, and voilà, success! My undergrad at Pacific University, on the other hand, was all about equity, justice, and seeing the big picture. I figured this made me a well-rounded leader, ready for anything.

I’d also spent four years in the classroom, observing every leadership style under the sun. Some leaders inspired me. Others left me wondering whether they even liked kids, teachers, or public education. But thanks to mentors like Laurie Cooper (shout out!), I thought I had a pretty good handle on the kind of leader I wanted to be.

Welcome to “The Bush”

My first Alaskan adventure took me to Shishmaref, a sandbar island on the Bering Sea, known to locals as “Shish.” I loved it. To get to Shishmaref, you first have to fly to Nome, and then hop onto a bush plane for the final leg of the journey. Even though it was July, everything I’d read insisted I should wear snow pants and boots. As a Californian completely out of my element, I took the advice to heart: I bundled up in snow pants, a huge furry jacket, a bright red ski mask hat, and goggles.

When I stepped off the plane, I must have looked like an alien landing on another planet. Waiting to greet me was the local community, most of them in shorts and flip-flops, enjoying the summer sun. I couldn’t help but laugh at the contrast: me, dressed for an arctic expedition, and them, perfectly comfortable in their summer attire.

 After two years, my family and I moved to Hoonah, where my real education began.

I dove in headfirst: learning about the community, its history, the families, the moieties, and clan groups. I had mentors, advisory teams, and a growing sense of belonging. By year three, I was convinced I’d cracked the code. The school was thriving, enrollment up, graduation rates soaring, student satisfaction at an all-time high. I was pumped. I thought I’d found the magic bullet. I knew how to “fix it.”

The Humbling Moment

One day, I visited a respected advisor, friend, and culture bearer. I launched into a passionate monologue: “If we could just get our non-Native teachers to do this, and our leaders to say that, everything would be perfect!” She listened patiently (bless her heart). When I finally paused for breath, she looked at me and said, “You know you’re one of them, right?”

I blinked. “What?”

She repeated, gently but firmly: “You are one of them. A non-Native school leader. You are not Native.”

Ouch. At first, her words stung. I’d worked so hard! But as I reflected, I realized she wasn’t trying to hurt me—she was giving me a gift. She was pointing out that, despite my good intentions, I was making the same mistake as so many outsiders: thinking that after a little time and effort, I’d “figured it out.”

The Pivot 

That was my transformative moment. No matter how much I cared, learned, or wanted to help, I would never fully grasp the complexities of the Native experience. I needed to stop trying to lead as if I were an insider and start seeing things from the outsider’s perspective, with humility, self-awareness, and a willingness to listen.

That shift changed everything. For the next ten years, I focused on walking alongside the community, supporting their goals, and centering Indigenous voices. I stopped trying to “fix” things and started asking, “How can I support you?”

The Framework (Shameless Book Plug)

This journey led to my book, Leading with Purpose: A Leadership Framework for Non-Native School Leaders Serving in Predominantly Native Schools. My framework is built on four pillars:

Pillar What It Means

Embracing Native Educational Sovereignty: Support tribal control and honor Indigenous priorities

Decolonizing Leadership Practices: Challenge colonial norms and power structures

Prioritizing Indigenous Knowledge: Center Indigenous worldviews, languages, and expertise

Culturally Affirming Leadership: Celebrate and sustain Indigenous identities

Authentic Collaboration: Creating space for centering Indigenous Voice

My Ongoing Journey

If Alaska taught me anything, it’s that leadership isn’t about having all the answers. It’s about showing up, listening, and being willing to grow—again and again. The most powerful legacy isn’t what you build, but how you empower Indigenous communities to lead and thrive on their own terms.

My journey from overconfident newcomer to humble learner wasn’t always easy (or pretty), but it was necessary. True leadership in Indigenous education means centering community voices, embracing your outsider status, and never, ever assuming you’ve “figured it out.” And if you ever think you have, find a wise culture bearer. They’ll set you straight and give you a smile.