Capes Optional, Communication Essential: A New Approach to School Communications

I didn’t set out to write a book about marketing. I set out to write a book about survival.

Long before I sat in cabinet meetings or analyzed enrollment reports, I learned a lesson no teacher prep program ever mentions: when you teach an elective, your job security is directly tied to enrollment.

No butts in those seats?
No job.

The “No Butts in Seats” Awakening

I began my career as a high school French teacher. French wasn’t required, and students could choose Spanish, Latin, or skip a foreign language altogether. From day one, I wasn’t just teaching conjugations. I was making a case for why students should choose my class.

There was a saying among world language teachers that felt less like a joke and more like a survival guide:

As a world language teacher, you’re not just the French teacher. You’re the travel agent, cultural ambassador, pronunciation coach, grammar guru, interpreter, festival planner, costume designer, tech support, and cheerleader for your program…sometimes all before lunch.

It stuck with me because it was true.

I arranged international trips while managing verb drills. I made crêpes on a hot plate and decorated bulletin boards that shouted “Choose French!” louder than I ever could. I wasn’t chasing attention for attention’s sake. I was building an experience students wanted to belong to.

I didn’t call it marketing back then. I called it survival.

The Sticky Notes That Changed Everything

Years later, teaching English in a new district, I watched that survival instinct play out at scale. One morning, our principal asked every teacher to write their classroom enrollment on a Post-it note first period and stick it outside the door.

We did this every day for a week.

What we learned was sobering. We had lost more than 100 students that year, and in our small, rural district, that was enormous. In Indiana, that translated into hundreds of thousands of dollars in lost funding. That year, teachers received no raise. Not even a stipend.

Those sticky notes weren’t harmless. They were funding. Programs. Jobs.

A few years later, as the Director of Technology, I found myself responsible for tracking enrollment two weeks before winter count day. This time, I wasn’t just observing the process. I was the process.

And I realized this wasn’t just my district.

Nationally, public schools have lost more than a million students since 2020. Families now have more choices than ever, yet many districts still operate as if students will simply show up. In an era of school choice, silence isn’t humility. It’s a risk.

The Elevator Moment

I was standing in an elevator when a community member asked a simple question:

“So what makes your schools different?”

My mind raced through programs, partnerships, and successes, but I couldn’t land on a clear answer in thirty seconds.

That elevator ride was only a few floors, but it felt like a mile.

If I couldn’t name our story clearly, how could I expect families to?

That moment changed how I thought about leadership. Branding wasn’t about slogans or glossy materials. It was about identity and alignment. It was about being able to say, with confidence, who we are and why it matters. And we should all be able to answer, from classroom teacher to custodian, from grounds crew to district administrator.

What Parents Actually Told Me

That question followed me into my doctoral research. I surveyed and interviewed families, asking what truly influenced their enrollment decisions.

Their answers were both affirming and unsettling.

One parent said plainly, “It’s the staff. That’s why we’re here.”

Another shared how a teacher texted, “Your child had an amazing day today, and I just wanted to let you know.”

But not all stories ended well.

One mother pulled both of her children out after repeated bullying. “I just needed to know my kids would be okay when I dropped them off.”

Another was blunt: “I’m not sure they even have a brand. Is the brand lack of direction? That’s what I see.”

What became clear was this: families weren’t choosing schools based on test scores. They were choosing based on trust, relationships, and belonging. And when schools stayed silent, families filled in the story themselves, often with worst-case assumptions.

Research confirmed what I was hearing locally. Parents nationwide prioritize safety, care, and whether their child is known by name. Yet the schools that need visibility most are often the least equipped to create it. When districts stay quiet, misinformation moves faster than facts.

Why I Rewrote the Whole Thing

I had a choice. I could write a traditional dissertation that might sit on a shelf and stop there, or I could write something different, something grounded in parent voices, backed by research, and shaped by the lived reality of leading schools in rural Indiana.

I chose the latter.

I stripped out the academic jargon. I added real stories. I built frameworks leaders could use on a Monday morning. Because branding isn’t about logos or slogans. It’s about identity alignment, and intention.

Capes Optional, Communication Essential: Leading Out Loud in the Era of School Choice isn’t a marketing playbook for districts with big budgets and PR teams (although they’ll find some insight). It’s a guide for leaders in small towns who wear seventeen hats and know their schools are doing good work but struggle to make that work visible.

It’s the book I wish I’d had when I froze in that elevator.

Monday Move: Start Small

Open your last five newsletters or social posts. Count how many tell a story versus how many simply announce an event.

That ratio reveals your current brand.

No judgment. Just awareness.

Because awareness is where scaffolding begins.

Capes Optional: Communication Essential debuts at FETC 2026. I’ll be there to celebrate the launch, but more importantly, to continue the conversations this book is meant to start.

If your district is wrestling with visibility, trust, or telling its story clearly, you’re not alone. I’ve been there, in classrooms, in the central office, and in conversations with families who just wanted to know their kids would be okay.

If I could build communications scaffolding in rural Indiana without a marketing team, you can too.

Your community deserves to see the incredible things happening in your schools.

Let’s make that visible, together.