Why Some Moments Matter More Than What You Post

If you want families to connect to your school, you have to communicate more than what you do — you have to show why it matters. This blog post offers a powerful reframing for school leaders ready to move from promotion to purpose.

Scroll long enough, and every school starts to look the same.

The creativity.

The hands-on lessons.

The smiling children.

The impressive projects.

From a distance, it all blends.

Long before I ever thought about marketing, I was a teacher at Hebrew Academy.

And teaching changed the way I see everything. Once you’ve stood inside a classroom, really inside it, you start to notice the successes no camera can capture. The quiet victories. The slow transformations. The moments that show you who a child is becoming long before the rest of the world sees it.

Like a young girl who joined us in third grade during Covid, she arrived quiet, hesitant, unsure of her own voice. Years later, she stood before a camera for our school’s promotional film; confident, grounded, ready. Yes, I’m the one who asked her to participate. But the fact that she said yes… the fact that she stood there at all… that was the story.

This wasn’t a video about confidence. It was the proof of it. I created this video for Hebrew Academy as part of a project that highlights what truly matters in Jewish education, not the creativity of the lesson, but the growth of the child. This moment is a reminder: when kids feel seen, they rise.

It happens in the moments no one sees.

Not because of a lesson plan.

Not because of a creative project.

But because she mattered.

And she knew it.

The shift happens the moment you stop asking, “What should we post?” and start asking, “Why does this matter?

That was when I realized something essential:

Schools don’t rise on the strength of their activities.

They rise on the strength of their relationships.

And yet, when I scroll online, I see school after school trying to prove their value through creativity alone; the same sensory bins, the same light units, the same hands-on lessons recycled through different filters and captions.

Everyone shows what they do.

Very few show why it matters.

But parents aren’t choosing creativity.

They’re choosing what creativity means for their child.

I think about my own daughter, who recently learned that her high school English teacher had passed away. She hadn’t seen her in years. But she cried deeply, because this teacher didn’t just teach her; she shaped her. Challenged her. Believed in her.

She mattered.

And when someone matters, what stays with you isn’t the grade or the curriculum.

It’s the feeling of being known.

This is where so many schools misunderstand the power of communication.

Clarity of intention is what turns a post into a feeling — and a message into meaning.

Promotion isn’t the same as meaning.

A large following isn’t the same as connection.

Creativity isn’t the same as belonging.

I once met with a preschool leader who proudly showed me how dramatically her Instagram following had grown. Almost all her new followers were out of state; other preschools wanted to mimic her curriculum, not families seeking a place for their child.

The numbers weren’t wrong.

They weren’t meaningful.

Because the goal isn’t to impress strangers.

It’s to reach the people who need to feel what your school stands for.

The first time I gave a school tour, I walked in with everything I thought I was supposed to say: academics, programs, features, points of pride. Ironically, the fundamental shift happened when I stopped presenting and started listening, when I responded not to my script, but to their child, their fears, their hopes.

And they enrolled.

Not because I delivered the perfect presentation.

But because they felt understood.

That’s when I learned one of the quietest truths in communication:

People don’t choose you because of how well you promote yourself. They choose you because of how deeply they feel seen.

It’s like someone knocking on your door every day offering to clean your windows. They keep showing you new tools, a rag, a ladder, a bottle of cleaner, more features, more proof that they’re capable.

But the reason you’d ever say yes has nothing to do with the tools.

It’s the sunlight. The warmth.

The feeling of a brighter home.

Schools love to showcase the tools.

Parents want to feel the sunlight.

So instead of showing your school's features, show the value of the experience.

Instead of proving creativity, reveal connection.

Instead of striving for attention, clarify your intention.

Because creativity gets attention.

Meaning earns trust.

And trust is what changes everything.

What would shift if we stopped trying to sell our schools…

and started showing why they matter?

That’s the question I hope we all begin to ask.

Anyone can share content. Leaders share purpose.