Learn. Adapt. Do.

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!

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!

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.

“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.

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.

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?

I came flying through one of our hallways this week, in a polo shirt, new ink on display, when one of our custodians stopped me, and said “Hey, nice ink! Were you in the military?”

“Yes.”

I’m not sure why tattoos and the military go hand in hand, per se, and my ink certainly is very recent compared to when I was in the Army National Guard.

It’s been more than 22 years since I left, after six years of service as a 19D Cavalry Scout in the 1/107th Armored Cavalry, stationed in Stow, OH.

I have fond memories of my time in the military. And sure, it certainly wasn’t full-time active duty, and no trips to Afghanistan for me, but the camaraderie, the skills, and the experience is something I will always carry with me.

There’s something about being up and at it before dawn each day, and eating Skittles and peanut butter for breakfast in a Humvee on a battlefield during a training exercise at 4 AM.

I read something a while ago about Type I and Type II fun…

Type I is fun at the time, in the moment, while you’re doing it. Like playing with friends, being at a birthday party perhaps, or having a blast at a wedding reception.

Type II on the other hand… is reflecting, and realizing that at the time it wasn’t always so great, but looking back, you had a wild time.

The military was like that for me.

Doing constant pushups, dealing with sleep deprivation, always on the run, the countless “hurry up and wait” scenarios, the tireless chores, the details, the meticulous attention to getting it right and keeping your equipment ready to go, and the unforgiving environment of “this might kill you…” wasn’t exactly awesome at the time.

But looking back?

I loved every minute of it.

My time in the National Guard was spent honing my skills, gaining experience and discipline, learning to lead on the trail and in a gunner’s turret, and realizing that career wasn’t for me, after all.

And I’m better off for it.

When I left in 2003, the OHNG was re-organized, and soon many of my platoon mates left for overseas deployment post-911. I moved on with my life, started work, went back to school, and now, here I am, part of the machine that offers up enlistment as a real option for kids.

I tell those students what a great time I had, and all the things enlistment has to offer.

It’s a really great option for many, and the military, regardless of branch, creates a core from which society can bank on. A foundation worth exploring, if only for a couple of years, either in the National Guard, or active duty. Either will shape you into something new, and you’ll no doubt be able to conquer what’s ahead.

So here’s to Type II fun… it might suck in the moment, but remember to embrace it, look forward, and drive on.

Eventually, you’ll be able to look back, reflect, and thrive in the knowledge of how it shaped you.

Onward.

WHAT? | This study examined the lived experiences of school bus transportation supervisors and the impact of organizational support structures on their job satisfaction, engagement, and wellbeing.

HOW? | Through qualitative research, six supervisors from public school districts in a Midwestern state were interviewed.

Findings revealed widespread frustration due to inadequate support, excessive workloads, and lack of formal training.

Supervisors often worked long hours with no backup personnel, leading to high stress and difficulty maintaining work-life balance. Despite their dedication to students, those experiencing the greatest challenges were the most likely to consider leaving the profession, with two participants planning to transition out within six months.

A key issue identified was the disconnect between supervisors and district leadership, with many reporting that administrators had little understanding of their responsibilities.

To address these challenges, the study recommends a formal training pathway, structured mentorship programs, and increased leadership education on transportation operations.

The findings highlight a critical gap in research on school operational leadership, emphasizing the need for evidence-based policies to support transportation supervisors.

Strengthening these support structures is essential for improving job sustainability and ensuring the effectiveness of school transportation systems.

Johansson, A. E. (2025). Perceived Organizational Support in School Transportation [Doctoral dissertation, Kent State University]. OhioLINK Electronic Theses and Dissertations Center. http://rave.ohiolink.edu/etdc/view?acc_num=kent1744053696312851

Interested in learning more, or collaborating on future projects? Me too! Let’s get in touch…

Andreas Johansson, PhD
e.andreas.johansson [at] gmail.com

May has been full of graduations. First, my own, at Kent State. Then graduation at our vocational school, TCTC, and last night, I attended and helped facilitate my first graduation as Superintendent.

I wrote the speech yesterday morning, about ketchup and my dad. Here it is, in its raw form how I wrote it.

Introduction

Ladies and gentlemen, Board of Education Members, President Johnson, family, friends, faculty, and most importantly, the graduating class of 2025:

My name is Andreas Johansson, Superintendent of Newton Falls Exempted Village Schools, and it is my pleasure to welcome you all today to Newton Falls High School graduation, here in the iconic Gene Zorn Gymnasium.

Recognizing Staff & Parents

I want to thank our staff for not only being here today but also for their passion, dedication, and grace in helping you, our graduates, navigate the last 13 years of your educational journey. 

Their dedication to the teaching craft is evident in all facets of our school; without them, we’d be lost. It is through their hard work and commitment to you, our students, that you are now graduating from high school and embarking on a new adventure we call life. 

Thank you, faculty!

[applause]

And to our families, parents, grandparents, community members, and audience members – without you, we could not carry on the mission of school. 

Newton Falls will forever be part of this community, and we look forward to your support in the years to come. We have big plans for next school year, and invite you to partner with us on the educational journey of your children, our students, and this country’s future leaders. 

Thank you, families and community members!

[applause]

Graduates – if I could ask you to stand, turn to the audience, and recognize those who made you what you are today…and let’s give them a round of applause.

[applause]

A Piece of Advice

I want to share one piece of advice with you today – something that has served me well in my whole life, and was instilled in me by my father’s action. 

It’s about making a decision. And what happens if you don’t.

But first, imagine for a moment, that you’re at the grocery store shopping for a backyard barbeque, and you need ketchup. Do you pick the regular Heinz, or any of the other brands, or do you go organic, or extra spicy? What about mayochup? Or something more sweet? What about the new hot honey that’s available?

It can certainly be overwhelming. But you have to pick a ketchup.

For those of you who are fans of economics, you know it’s the science of choice. 

You’re faced with a classic cost-benefit analysis. 

How do you maximize the return on your investment and get the ketchup that most people will like? What happens if you pick the wrong kind? What if no one likes ketchup, and everyone wanted mustard?

And worst of all, what if you don’t pick anything at all?

You see, making a decision isn’t easy. 

In life, you have to make decisions all the time – from easy things, like ketchup, or more difficult things, like who you’re gonna spend the rest of your life with. Or not.

And it all comes down to simple choice and willingness to act.

** Make the best decision you can, with the information you have at the time. **

Then drive forward, gather more information, and make another decision if you have to.

And if you made the wrong decision, make another one quickly. No need to look backwards. 

That’s sunk cost, stuff in the past, and no one’s interested in what you did last year, or in the last job, or what you served at the last barbecue. 

It’s what you do now, today, and consistently going forward, that matters.

** Here’s what happens if you don’t make a decision. **

Life decides for you, and you risk consequences you weren’t prepared for.

My dad was a rescue diver in the Swedish Coast Guard when I was your age. 

He was a hard man, and nothing faced him. He remained calm, mostly, steadfast in his belief that he could use his skills, passion, and experience to navigate the worst that the North Sea had to offer. 

I grew up 400 meters from that shoreline and learned a lot about leadership from him. 

Today is his birthday, and he’s turning 78. Spry as always, he was going to work on his new batch of chickens that just arrived yesterday. The price of eggs is not something he’s worried about. 

Always busy, always making decisions, and driving forward. He would probably take a break later today, he said, for another cup of coffee and a slice of cake. For his birthday.

** Here’s what happens when you don’t make a decision. **

Dad came home one week with a story of a couple he’d rescued from a storm. This story is one of many from his life on the open sea, and as a rescue diver, boat commander, and later, national incident commander for the whole country of Sweden, he’s full of examples where decision-making has mattered.

The couple, a husband and wife, had been sailing and forgot to pay attention to the weather. A storm had rolled in, and being inexperienced, one thing had led to another, and they were now in real trouble and had hailed the Coast Guard. 

Dad geared up, swam over in the stormy ocean waves, and told them what would happen next.

“You’re boat is sinking. I’m taking you to safety. You’re first,” he said to the wife. “I’ll be back for you in a bit,” he told the husband. 

In the water they went, to safety aboard the Coast Guard patrol boat, and he came back for the husband who was clinging to the railing of the now-sinking vessel. 

“Let’s go! It’s time to get off this thing,” he shouted to the husband in the storm. 

“No! I can’t leave this boat! But I don’t wanna die, either!” was the return message.

The husband refused to make a decision about staying or going. 

In choosing between life or death, or seeing his sailing vessel perish, or his bravery fail in the face of real danger, he became paralyzed. 

** Decision paralysis is a real thing. **

Just like you, in the ketchup aisle, picking between a million options, paralysis had set in, and he couldn’t take the next step to save his own life.

So, Dad decided for him. Fist to face, knocked him out, threw him in the water, and swam him to safety.

Here’s the lesson:

You have to get good at making decisions. Regardless of what you’re facing. 

It could be ketchup, or a new job, or a relationship, or travel plans, or tonight’s dinner. Or it could be life or death, or the choice between being content or truly happy.

Whatever you do, make the call, with the best information you have at the time, and drive forward. The worst thing that can happen is that you need to make another decision, quickly. 

And if you don’t, someone else will make the decision for you.

Lead your life. Make decisions. 

Carry on that legacy, which is you graduating from Newton Falls High School, today. The decision to do so, is a great one, and I stand ready to support you for the rest of your life.

And if you need help, or learn how to grocery shop, or learn how to drive, or anything else – we’re here to help, always. Make the decision to stay connected.

Newton Falls will always be the place where you started the rest of your life.

Never forget that. 

And never stop making the RIGHT decisions for yourself and others in your care.

*** Thank you. ***

It’s been a big year, with lots of changes – a new job, new challenges, finished my schooling at Kent State, and tons of projects and checkmarks behind me.

What’s next?

New projects. New opportunities. New horizons… there’s always something to do, if you look, and if you want to.

Welding, maybe?

Continue to improve on skills I already have, and refine those I need to sharpen?

Yes. All of that.

Once you realize there’s never a point you reach where you’re just done, and you can relax, and do nothing… like I suspect many envision retirement… it’s over.

So I don’t intend to stop.

Keep learning. It’s the only option.