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Know Your Routes

This morning, I took a different road to work.

No particular reason. It was simply a road I had never driven before.

As I made my way through the cornfields with the sun coming up over a part of northeast Ohio I don’t normally see, I found myself thinking about something a drill sergeant taught me nearly 30 years ago.

Fort Knox, Kentucky. 1997.

Drill Sergeant Rafael Coppin (1959 – 2003) taught us that you should never take the same route to work every day. His reasoning was considerably more military than mine is today: confuse the enemy.

At the time, Drill Sergeant Coppin (E7) struck me as perhaps a little unhinged, occasionally slightly dangerous, and absolutely convinced that the enemy was paying much more attention to our daily commute than I suspected.

But buried inside all of that was a lesson that has stayed with me for almost three decades:

Know another route.

Because the objective doesn’t change just because the road does.

If the road is blocked, find another one. If there is a crash ahead, maneuver around it. If the bridge is out, you’d better know where the next bridge is.

If the original plan no longer works, don’t sit there staring at the barricade and complaining that this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Keep moving toward the objective.

That’s battlefield thinking. And it’s also leadership.

School leadership rarely follows the route you drew on the map Monday morning. Something changes. Someone needs you. A plan falls apart. An obstacle appears that nobody anticipated. The bridge you fully expected to cross simply isn’t there anymore.

The mission, however, remains.

Our responsibility as leaders isn’t to become so attached to the route that we forget where we were trying to go in the first place. It’s to understand the terrain well enough to maneuver.

Plan A. Plan B. Plan C. Left turn. Right turn. Back road. Detour. Whatever it takes, keep moving toward the objective.

And sometimes, there is another benefit to taking a different road.

This morning, my alternate route gave me cornfields, a gorgeous sunrise, beautiful scenery, and a view of someplace I’d never been before. Maybe that’s part of the lesson, too. Sometimes the road you didn’t plan to take shows you something the original route never could.

Nearly 30 years later, Drill Sergeant Coppin’s lesson is still riding with me. Know another route. Keep moving. Accomplish the mission.

And for me, that mission remains pretty simple: keep learning, keep maneuvering, and keep working every day to be the best school leader I can possibly be.

Onward!

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Reins of Leadership

School leadership takes on many different forms.

Sometimes it means setting a vision, making difficult decisions, supporting staff, celebrating students, or taking responsibility when things do not go as planned.

And sometimes it means being handed the reins to a Scottish Highland cow at Cow Patty Bingo and being told, very clearly, “Do not let go under any circumstances.”

Standing there with Ember on Sunday, I couldn’t help but recognize the leadership lesson in that instruction.

When a community hands you the reins, it places its trust in you. You become responsible for something larger than yourself—something powerful, occasionally unpredictable, and deserving of your complete attention.

In that sense, holding Ember’s reins was not entirely unlike serving as the superintendent of a public school district.

The responsibility is real. The trust matters. And letting go simply isn’t an option.

I was entrusted with the leadership of Newton Falls Exempted Village Schools, and I do not intend to let go of that responsibility. Ever.

Our students, staff, families, and community deserve leadership that holds on—through the celebrations, the challenges, the uncertainty, and even the occasional Cow Patty Bingo.

P.S. Ember was an absolute sweetheart—friendly, gentle, and considerably easier to work with than her job description might suggest.

Onward! 🐮🐯

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Grilled Chicken French Onion

“You’re going to make a French onion thing with chicken, ok?” she said as we were heading out the door one morning. “I’ll send you the recipe.”

“Ok. Sounds good.”

“You can zhuzh it if you want.”

By now, she knew that I have a tendency to change things a bit, add some more seasoning than what it calls for, and adapt to what’s available, or try a new technique.

The recipe dinged in my pocket, and I looked at it briefly. It was a riff on French onion soup, with chicken for protein. Super healthy-looking, and looked a lot faster than the traditional.

She’d put the chicken in the sink to thaw before leaving. “We’re doing the asparagus tips with it, too. Ok?”

We connected briefly that afternoon before she had another appointment, and I had instructions to install shelves in the closets, too. And the chicken thing for dinner.

“I’ll be home by 6.”

The recipe called for cooking the chicken breast in a pan, then deglazing by sweating down the onions and letting them caramelize with beef stock and some other stuff. Then serving together.

The shelf project took both longer, and a lot less time than I thought it would. And I wasn’t interested in the hour commitment to the stove that the one-pan plan promised.

I fired up the grill instead.

Marinated the chicken breast, after flattening a bit with heavy pot, with some amino acids, olive oil, herbs de provence, pepper, the basics.

While that soaked, I got my saucier pre-heating and sliced the onion and bonus cabbage I found, thin, and started cooking that down with plenty of butter, oil, salt & pepper. And a bit of water – a pro tip to get onions to cooperate faster – with the lid on. The steam works wonders, and you get to the end results faster.

“Wait a minute…” I said out loud. “Didn’t we have some of those ceramic ladle things?”

We sure did. The plan was coming together. Ramekins?

Chicken on the grill. Leave it alone on medium. Let that Maillard happen on its own, and you don’t need to fight it. 5 minutes per side.

Onion & cabbage slaw wilting and cooking. Feed the dog.

By the way. If you don’t have a saucier yet, you’re really missing out. It’s the pan I wish I had had for the last twenty years in the kitchen. Stainless. Rounded bottom. Awesome. Get one! (3-quart size is what you need.)

Flip the chicken. Stage the stick temp and plate. Back inside, stir the onions that have started to do their thing for real by now. But fair warning – takes a lot longer than you think, so plan accordingly.

Broiler on high. Let’s go! Stage the cheese – mozzarella and Gruyère.

Mostly, just leave the onions alone for 20-30 minutes on low-ish temps. When you’re ready, add a splash of that beef broth, some more amino acids, adjust a bit, and let it cook down. You want concentrated flavor here, not soup. Jam, more like it. I looked for a bit of red wine, but we didn’t have a bottle already opened. Next time. Japanese BBQ sauce instead? Yep…

Chicken check. Good – internal temperature at 155 or so… I let that rest on a plate covered in foil while I continued on the onions. It comes up on its own under foil, don’t worry. Turn the propane valve off, too, while you’re at it, so you don’t forget.

Uncover the onions, stir, cook down, resist adding more butter (couldn’t), and prep for final assembly.

“Ooooh… smells good in here!”

She came through the kitchen door, home from her appointment, excited to be home for the evening. I was too. And a bit nervous about the next steps. Cheese + broiler can get wild real quick. Asparagus tips were ready, too.

Assembly happened in layers.

Asparagus on the bottom of the ramekin. Spoon of jammy onions, followed by sliced grilled chicken breast. More onions. Then both cheeses piled on and pressed in. And under the broiler they went!

“Open this,” she said. I did, and poured a new red into two glasses.

Timer’s up on the broiler. Two plates became the bases, since the ramekin was hot. Looked good?

We let them rest a minute before digging in. Cheesy. Onion-y. Grilled chicken. Really good for a weeknight meal. 5/5. Good luck!

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A Professional Warning About Andreas Johansson

A brief note for those unfamiliar with CliftonStrengths: it is not a personality test or a measure of competence. It identifies the recurring patterns of thought, motivation, and behavior that a person most naturally relies upon. These patterns describe where someone instinctively directs energy and how that person is most likely to approach work, leadership, decisions, and relationships.

Andreas Johansson’s five dominant CliftonStrengths themes are:

  1. Significance — the desire to perform meaningful work, make a consequential difference, and be known for credible, exceptional leadership.
  2. Achiever — an internal drive to accomplish something tangible every day and continually raise the standard of performance.
  3. Arranger — the ability to coordinate complex combinations of people, resources, priorities, and circumstances.
  4. Strategic — the instinct to recognize patterns, anticipate obstacles, evaluate alternatives, and identify the strongest path forward.
  5. Futuristic — the ability to envision what an organization could become and inspire movement toward that future.

Taken individually, these themes are powerful. Taken together, they describe someone who sees a better future, identifies a route toward it, organizes the necessary resources, works relentlessly to achieve it, and needs the result to matter.

That combination is also the best place to begin if you are going to work with Andreas.


Before you meet Andreas Johansson, understand that you are not meeting someone who regards leadership as merely holding a position. For him, the work is deeply tied to identity, purpose, and impact. He wants his leadership to matter, his organization to improve, and the results to be visible. He is not interested in occupying the superintendent’s chair; he wants to do something consequential while he is sitting in it.

He is also not a ceremonial superintendent. He is a full-stack educational leader who moves comfortably between board policy, instructional strategy, employee relations, public communications, technology, transportation, facilities, finances, emergency preparedness, and student programming. He may be discussing long-term organizational strategy in one moment and troubleshooting an operational problem in the next.

Do not mistake his willingness to handle details for a lack of strategic focus. He examines the details because he understands that strategy fails when the underlying systems do not work.

His dominant Significance theme means he has little appetite for inconsequential work, mediocre outcomes, or leadership that exists primarily to preserve the institution. He wants to be regarded as credible, accomplished, and effective—and he expects the people and organizations associated with him to demonstrate those same qualities.

He will invest heavily in people who want to become exceptional. He will encourage them, give them opportunities, recognize their work, and help them succeed. If someone repeatedly settles for mediocrity, however, he will push them, reposition them, work around them, or eventually move on without them.

Do not confuse Significance with a simple need for attention. Andreas does not merely want to be seen. He wants to be seen doing work that matters. Recognition is meaningful to him when it confirms that something important was actually accomplished.

His Achiever strength supplies the engine. Every morning begins at zero. Yesterday’s success may be appreciated, but it does not satisfy today’s need to make progress. He carries an internal expectation that something tangible should be improved, finished, solved, communicated, created, or moved forward every day.

This allows him to sustain a workload and pace that other people may find difficult to understand—and even more difficult to match.

The warning is that Andreas’s normal operating speed may not feel normal to everyone else. He can accomplish five meaningful things while another person is still organizing the meeting to discuss the first one. Because productivity comes naturally to him, he may occasionally underestimate how demanding his pace feels to others.

If you work with him, do not measure success by how busy you appear. He will want to know what moved.

His Arranger strength makes him unusually comfortable in complexity. He can keep personnel, transportation, technology, facilities, safety, finances, communications, instruction, politics, and community relationships active in his head at the same time. When circumstances change, he does not become emotionally attached to the original plan. He rearranges the people, resources, sequence, and strategy until he finds a configuration that works better.

That flexibility can be exhilarating—or disorienting.

A plan that appeared correct on Monday may be reorganized by Wednesday because new information revealed a stronger route. He will not consider that inconsistency. He will consider it responsible leadership. If you need the original plan to remain untouched simply because everyone already agreed to it, you may struggle with him.

His Strategic strength means that while others see a collection of individual problems, he usually sees patterns, pathways, obstacles, and consequences. He instinctively runs scenarios:

  • What happens next?
  • Where does this lead?
  • What resistance will emerge?
  • What are we missing?
  • What will this decision look like six months from now?
  • Will this remain defensible when circumstances become difficult?

He eliminates unproductive paths quickly and moves toward the route that appears most likely to succeed.

Because this process happens rapidly in his head, other people may occasionally experience the decision without having witnessed all the mental calculations behind it. If he seems to have moved ahead suddenly, it is often because he has already considered several possibilities, discarded most of them, and begun positioning the organization for the strongest remaining option.

His Futuristic strength pulls all of this forward. Andreas sees organizations not only as they are, but as they could become. He can picture a safer school system, a stronger culture, a better student experience, a more capable workforce, or a more trusted district before all the necessary pieces exist.

That vision energizes him, particularly when present conditions are frustrating. It is reflected in the language he repeatedly uses: “Better Today Than Yesterday,” “Excellence in everything we do,” “Onward,” and “We’re going to do what’s best for students. Always.”

Those are not merely communication devices. They reveal how he processes leadership. The present is important, but it is never the final destination.

He will not be satisfied simply painting a picture of the future, either. His particular combination of strengths means that he sees the destination, identifies the route, rearranges the available resources, and begins working toward it—often in quick succession.

That combination is the real warning:

  • Futuristic sees what could exist.
  • Strategic identifies how to reach it.
  • Arranger assembles the people and resources.
  • Achiever supplies the relentless forward motion.
  • Significance insists that the result be meaningful and exceptional.

This is why Andreas can be inspiring and demanding at the same time. He offers people an opportunity to participate in meaningful work, but he expects them to participate fully. He gives trust, access, encouragement, visibility, and considerable autonomy. In return, he expects honesty, judgment, responsiveness, ownership, and follow-through.

He does not need everyone to think like him, but he expects everyone to think.

He is generally patient with honest mistakes, especially when someone acknowledges the mistake, takes responsibility, and learns from it. He is far less patient with concealed information, passive resistance, institutional helplessness, repeated excuses, selective communication, or people who identify problems but accept no responsibility for solving them.

If you bring him a concern, be direct. Bring the facts. Explain what you have already attempted. Offer possible solutions. If you disagree with him, say so clearly and support your position. He respects thoughtful disagreement much more than superficial agreement followed by inaction.

He also places substantial importance on communication. He believes language creates culture, establishes expectations, and shapes public confidence. He notices tone, accuracy, timing, consistency, and whether a message sounds authentically human.

In contentious situations, his instinct is to lower the emotional temperature without surrendering the district’s position. He separates the actual problem from someone’s demanded solution, verifies the facts, protects due process, explains constraints and tradeoffs, and looks for decisions that will remain defensible over time.

He prefers direct conversation to prolonged public conflict. He is willing to listen, clarify, and solve a legitimate problem. He has much less patience for manufactured controversy, performative outrage, or people who would rather display a problem publicly than help correct it.

His accessibility is genuine. He is visible, approachable, and willing to perform work that some leaders would regard as beneath their title. He respects every role in the organization because he understands how the entire system depends upon people whose work is frequently overlooked.

But that accessibility should not be mistaken for passivity or a lack of standards.

He notices details. He remembers commitments. He sees when the public message and internal reality do not match. When he asks whether something has been handled, he expects the loop to have been closed.

He is particularly sensitive to inconsistencies between what an organization says and what it actually does. If the district claims excellence, belonging, safety, accountability, or student-centeredness, he expects those values to appear in daily operations—not merely on posters and strategic plans.

He will often spot the broken process behind the visible problem. While others may want to patch the immediate complaint, he is likely to ask why the problem occurred, where else it could happen, and whether the underlying system should be redesigned.

His greatest professional strengths can also become his pressure points:

  • Significance can make ordinary or maintenance-oriented work feel insufficiently meaningful.
  • Achiever can make rest—or simply recognizing that enough has been accomplished—difficult.
  • Arranger can change configurations faster than other people can emotionally or operationally adjust.
  • Strategic can cause him to arrive at conclusions before others understand his reasoning.
  • Futuristic can make the limitations of the present particularly frustrating.
  • Together, these strengths can create a pace and level of expectation that motivated people find energizing, but passive people find exhausting.

There is another important caution: because Andreas can personally solve problems across many different areas, people may become too dependent upon his ability to do so. His willingness to jump in can unintentionally teach others to wait for him. That is not the organization he wants to build. He wants capable people who exercise judgment, accept responsibility, and solve problems within their authority.

The best way to work with Andreas is to care about the mission, tell the truth early, take responsibility, produce something useful, and remain flexible when a better path appears.

Do not wait for him to discover a problem you already knew existed.

Do not confuse discussion with action.

Do not mistake activity for accomplishment.

Do not bring him tradition as the sole justification for continuing an ineffective practice.

Most importantly, do not mistake his dissatisfaction with the status quo for dissatisfaction with people. He challenges people because he believes they are capable of more. He believes organizations can become better—and because he genuinely believes that, he will push them to prove it.

In short: Andreas will see further ahead than many people, organize more moving pieces than most, and push harder than some are accustomed to. He will ask people to think, decide, communicate, adapt, and deliver. He will also work beside them, advocate for them, recognize their contributions, and make sure the work connects to something larger than the task immediately in front of them.

If you want to build something meaningful, he is the person you want leading the work.

If you want things to remain comfortably as they are, consider yourself warned.

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On ironing shirts, Part 2.

In a previous piece, I explored ironing and how one could measure success and skill in that area.

Over the last few months, I’ve been fighting these two blue shirts. They’re cut from a different cloth, still cotton, but a blend that doesn’t take well to my normal routine. The Rowenta steam iron works, but not well enough for those shirts.

So I changed.

I rummaged around for a spray bottle and began misting each shirt as I got to work. Still, the collar first, the yolk, and so forth. Each sleeve, a raggled mess after the dryer, needed extra mist and a gentle hand to tease out the creases.

And you know what?

With a little bit of changed attitude and a few spritzes, the blue shirts are now just as crisp as the others.

Instead of fighting those sleeves and the fabric that had already decided to be difficult because of the fabric’s makeup, I applied a few more tricks up my sleeve, grabbed a spray bottle, and got to work.

Sometimes, we just need to look at a shirt in a different light and apply a different touch.

Not harder pressure, not more steam, but a different technique altogether. And some shirts, like these blue ones, just need a bit more, and a little extra, and someone to still keep ironing, even when all the others behave already.

Certainly, the blue shirts remain in rotation and are among my favorites. They “make my eyes pop,” someone said recently.

And yes, this post isn’t about ironing.

Now, go get that spray bottle and get to work!

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Revisiting the ASVAB

This morning, I did something I honestly never thought I would do again. I took the ASVAB. Yes, that ASVAB. And I did it right alongside about ten of our high school students.

The last time I sat for this test was 30 years ago as a 17-year-old at Stow High School. Three decades. Long enough that some of the questions felt familiar, some felt brand new, and a few made me think, “Wow, I really hope no one is watching me stare at this screen right now.”

I wanted to take the test for the same reason I encourage students to take it. To experience it, to understand it, and to give it my best. If I am going to talk with students about opportunities, pathways, and possibilities, I think it matters that I walk the walk too.

For a little context, the Armed Services Vocational Aptitude Battery was introduced in 1968 as a comprehensive, standardized assessment used by the U.S. military to assess and classify recruits.

It became the unified enlistment exam in 1976 and has since doubled as a powerful career exploration tool for high school students. It is not just about military service, it is about helping students understand their strengths, skills, and interests.

The version I took today was the computer adaptive test, which is both impressive and mildly intimidating. The better you do, the harder the questions get. Miss one, and the test adjusts. It is like a very polite but relentless personal trainer for your brain.

I felt great about the verbal sections, general science, and the shop and mechanical comprehension parts. Word association? Bring it on.

When the test asked whether “ominous” was related to “sinister,” I barely had time to blink before clicking my answer. Mechanical concepts and practical reasoning still felt comfortable, too.

Algebra, however, and I are still in a complicated relationship.

I struggled there, just like I did 30 years ago. Some of those equations probably remain unbalanced to this day. Geometry, on the other hand, is still my jam. Ask me about square footage for an office addition or how to split the lunch bill, and I am your guy. Triangles? All day long.

One thing that really stood out to me was how some questions touch on content that may not appear in today’s K-12 curriculum, depending on a student’s program or pathway.

I was shown an electrical schematic and asked to identify components. Capacitor? Resistor? Transistor? I stared at it as if it were modern art.

That said, identifying the device that converts sound waves into electrical current as a microphone felt like a small personal victory.

The entire test took me about an hour and 25 minutes, and I genuinely gave it my best effort. No shortcuts, no excuses, just trying to work through each question the same way our students do.

More than anything, the experience reminded me how valuable it is to step into our students’ shoes. Testing can be stressful. Questions can feel unfamiliar. Confidence can rise and fall by the minute.

And yet, there is something empowering about showing up, engaging fully, and seeing what you can do.

Thirty years later, I am still learning, still growing, and apparently still wrestling with algebra. And honestly, I would not have it any other way.

Onward!

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Supporting Transportation Supervisors: Lessons for District Leadership

School transportation supervisors play a critical role in ensuring students arrive at school safely, reliably, and ready to learn. Despite this responsibility, transportation leadership is often overlooked in district-level conversations about leadership development, organizational support, and employee well-being.

This two-page research brief summarizes findings from my doctoral research examining the lived experiences of school transportation supervisors in Ohio public school districts, with a focus on perceived organizational support, leadership trust, isolation, and burnout.

About the Research

The study used a qualitative research design and included in-depth interviews with six transportation supervisors from Ohio counties.

Participants shared candid insights about their day-to-day responsibilities, leadership challenges, and the types of support that most influenced their job satisfaction, engagement, and long-term sustainability in the role.

This research was recently presented at the OSBA Capital Conference to a standing-room-only audience of superintendents and central office leaders, reinforcing the relevance and urgency of this topic for district leadership teams.

Key Themes Highlighted in the Brief

  • Professional isolation as a common experience for transportation supervisors
  • Limited voice in district-level decision-making
  • The critical role of leadership trust in supervisor engagement and retention
  • Burnout as a predictable organizational outcome, not an individual failure

In addition to highlighting these challenges, the brief offers practical, superintendent- and HR-level recommendations for strengthening support structures, improving leadership relationships, and reducing burnout in transportation leadership roles.

Who This Is For

This resource is intended for:

  • Superintendents
  • Assistant superintendents
  • Human resources leaders
  • Central office and cabinet-level administrators
  • Operations and business leaders

Anyone responsible for developing, supporting, or retaining district leaders in non-instructional roles will find value in this work.

Download the Research Brief

About the Author

Andreas Johansson, PhD, is a public school superintendent and former Director of Operations with direct experience leading school transportation departments. A licensed school bus driver, he has worked alongside transportation staff in both operational and leadership roles.

His research focuses on elevating the voices of transportation supervisors and providing district leaders with actionable, evidence-based strategies to support critical operational leadership roles.

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On mopping the floor…

“Woah, woah! Slow down there, who taught you how to mop?”

James, an unbelievable human being and day shift custodian in a school district I worked in long ago, in my first role in central office.

“The Army?!” <– me, the eager new admin, wanting to help.

“Oh, ok then… let’s see what you got, youngblood!”

James was a baker on board a Navy frigate for a lifetime, and now tended the high school with a finetuned finesse. An experience and craftsmanship that don’t just happen.

I was trying to be helpful and get the cafeteria back in shape after a particularly challenging meal, which required some extra effort. I had, without knowing, stepped into territory I was yet to become familiar with, and welcomed in. I had to earn my place, and rightfully so.

“Let me show you, ok? Let me help with some expectations, and how I’d like it done. Ok?”

James was the consummate guide and steward to all things custodial work at the building. He ran the place like a ballet – with just the right amount of equipment stored, prepared just so, and with an attention to detail I’ve never seen matched since.

He also baked cakes. And bread. And nursed flowers and plants over the summertime for teachers and administrators.

“Want me to shape up your jade for you?” he asked in my second year there. “Yes? She’ll like it that much better. She needs a bit of pruning, too. I’ll take care of it.”

He taught me how to line trash cans, too. Pre-load them by hanging a few extra bags along the side before you line it, “so you’re ready for a quick changeout,” he’d say. I’ve never since lined another trash can without one.

James taught me more than mopping and trash cans.

He taught me about care, about stewardship, and about love. Love for a building and its people. And love for all people – staff, students, visitors, and especially, the kids that needed his connection, his gentle guidance, and his stern hand. He demanded perfection in all areas and was never idle.

I channel James every day. At work, at home, or at the grocery store. There’s always someone to help. Always someone to guide, to show love towards, and to help find another way.

It’s not about the mopping.

It’s about making it happen, about service, about selfless care, about caring enough to teach a young whippernsapper administrator how to line a trash can even though he thought he knew how to… Cause I should know how, and James was the perfect teacher.

Cleaning the floors has never been the same since. Wavebreaker included. There’s just no other way than doing it right. It’s a choice. And that’s often a lotta hard work. Here’s to hoping I’ve earned it.

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Dancing in the Unknown

I cooked breakfast this weekend, and a bunch of other meals, in a kitchen unknown. The first few meals were a hot mess of checking every cupboard, drawer, and nook and cranny for tools, pots, towels, and spatulas.

But.

As I spent more time in the kitchen, naturally, each movement became more and more familiar. Tongs whipped out from below, a towel appeared without effort, and the stove’s finicky temperature settings were subtly mastered. And the bacon crisped.

Compared to my previous kitchen, dancing in the unknown can be uncomfortable, and quite scary, at first. But once you get a hang of where the utensils are, and how to turn up the heat, you’re on your way to a fabulous tango.

Using a slotted spoon and a butter knife to flip your eggs makes almost anything seem possible. Here’s to many more meals in a foreign kitchen. Let’s go!

This post isn’t about cooking breakfast.

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On ironing shirts.

I just finished ironing the week’s shirt rotation.

I do it myself. Better results that way, and more control over the side seams, cuffs, and no need to unbutton the second sleeve button they loosen at the dry cleaner.

Collar inside, outside, the upper yoke, each sleeve front and back, the button holes, around the front, the back, and back to front, and finishing with the button placket last. Easy.

Each shirt takes about 7 minutes or so, using a Rowenta steam iron that drinks a lot. Almost full heat does it, and steam set to max, even though most are a blend of cotton and something stretchy. The ‘athletic’ fit adds two additional panels in the back to keep it trim, but those seams are easy.

When done, I hang them buttoning only the second button from the top, each hanger facing left. That way, when they get hung in the closet each faces the same way, and it’s easy to grab in the morning.

I learned how to iron in 5th or 6th grade… I can’t remember, but it was likely the same class which offered needlepoint, crocheting, and basic knitting.

Later, I sewed a pair of florescent shorts in that class, and I’ve never let go of just how a pair of pants are constructed from a pattern. It’s wild! Shirts, are no different.

Regular, loose, skinny fit, or athletic?

It’s all a preference, and when you find a shirt that fits, it’s worth keeping some around, and learning how to take care of them. Saves money, too. I got a good sale on Labor Day from Banana Republic Factory, and got a variety of blues, whites, stripes, and a pattern.

Some new ties, too. They get the ‘slightly warm’ iron, though, should they need it.

Naturally, I started thinking about how to measure success in ironing, and asked Chat for a rubric between ‘ineffective’ and ‘accomplished’ – the range we use to measure teacher success in Ohio’s K-12 Public Schools.

Accomplished, the most sought after rating, is really something special, and as designed, is really, really difficult to attain. It was designed to be kind of a unicorn measure of someone who’s really well established in their craft. An expert. Someone who can iron any shirt, any time, with the tools provided. Every time.

I’ll save the discussion on that here…

Instead, how do you measure up in your own ironing skills?

ref. Rubric Ironning Men’s Shirts

Narrative: The Accomplished Ironer

An accomplished ironer approaches the task with calm confidence and practiced efficiency. The shirt is prepared with care—collar stays removed, buttons unfastened, and fabric lightly misted for the perfect balance of crispness and smoothness. The iron is set to the precise temperature for the shirt’s material, and additional tools like spray starch or a sleeve board are ready if needed.

The ironing process flows with a natural rhythm: collar first, then cuffs, sleeves, yoke, back, and finally the body panels and button placket. Each stroke is smooth and controlled, aligning with the fabric’s grain to prevent distortion. Steam is used judiciously, and pressure is applied evenly, producing sharp creases where desired and flat, wrinkle-free surfaces everywhere else.

No detail is overlooked—the collar points are crisp, the cuffs are immaculate, the button placket lies flat, and even the often-neglected side seams and underarms are perfectly smooth. The shirt emerges looking as though it came straight from a professional laundry service—polished, elegant, and ready for the most formal setting. Time is used with mastery: the shirt is completed in minutes without haste, every move deliberate, efficient, and flawless.

Of course, if you read between the lines and don’t get burned by the steam iron, you know that this post isn’t about ironing at all. Or is it?