“You’re everywhere doing great things!” a colleague recently commented to me. I smiled and responded with how much I enjoy the work that I do. But I also took a moment to remind my colleague that what she sees on social media is my highlight reel. “I don’t post about me making dinner with my Instant Pot,” I joked. The reality is, I’m home 90% of the time. My days are often filled with caring for my family, running our household, preparing contracts, and sitting in meetings.

Visible Peaks

Those speaking engagements, published books, and successful student projects you see educators posting online? They’re real achievements worth celebrating. The photos of Pinterest-worthy bulletin boards, the social media announcements of great lessons impacting student outcomes, the exciting professional opportunities – these visible peaks represent goals achieved and meaningful work accomplished.

But for every speaking engagement or published article that appears on social media, there are countless hours of mundane moments: meal planning on Sundays, organizing appointments, creating backup plans for sports carpools, and finishing laundry. Many of us are also helping children with schoolwork, aiming for health goals, and trying to rest in between.

Below the Surface

Yes, I travel, host videos, and speak at events. Yes, I’ve been fortunate to have my writing published as courses and books. And yes, I absolutely love my job at i2e. I get to support clients all over the world and lead our team to create amazing education resources! But these visible peaks of my professional iceberg are supported by a vast foundation below the surface.

That foundation is built on early morning email sessions and late-night proposal writing. It’s built on days when all the moving pieces feel like too much, but we keep going anyway. It’s the quiet moments of researching life choices for family members, the mental load of coordinating schedules, and the constant choices between “good” options.

Sometimes it’s beautiful below the surface too – the pride in completing a difficult project, the genuine connection with colleagues in a virtual meeting, the peaceful morning routine that sets up a productive day. Other times it can feel overwhelming. Real life includes missed deadlines, rescheduled commitments, and professional opportunities we choose to pass up for personal priorities.

Going Beyond

As we end another year and the highlight reels surface on TikTok, I felt compelled to share my thoughts. This isn’t about diminishing achievements or suggesting we shouldn’t celebrate successes. It’s about acknowledging the full story of how we navigate our lives as educators and humans. When we only share the peaks of our icebergs, we risk leaving others to feel inadequate, wondering how we “do it all.” The truth is, none of us do it all. We make trades, we adjust, we prioritize, and sometimes we let things slide.

I have a sign in my (tiny, not Pinterest worthy) office space that reads, “I can do anything, but I can’t do everything.” I’m proud to say I didn’t maintain an upper-level mileage status this year with my favorite airline. I could have booked a cheap flight on a day off just to make it, but I chose to ski with my son that day.

That’s why I want to share my iceberg with you. And I want to invite you to share yours too.

Your Turn to Share

What does your iceberg look like? As you reflect on this past year, consider:

• What achievements are visible to others?
• What daily work and choices support these achievements?
• Which challenges shaped your journey?
• What priorities guided your decisions?
• What did you choose not to do?

Here’s a template link to my Canva graphic. Feel free to modify to fit your needs, and make sure to tag me when you post so I can celebrate your whole story with you!

When we share our whole stories, we build real community. We remind each other that behind every visible success lies a foundation of conscious choices, invisible work, and daily trade-offs. Your story – all of it – matters. Let’s celebrate the peaks while honoring the depth of what lies beneath.