The leaders kids remember (and the ones they just survive): what every parent and teacher should know
I sat on a weathered fallen log at my daughter’s 5th grade outdoor ed last month, sipping lukewarm lemonade with a sticky paper label, watching two groups tackle the river crossing challenge. The goal was simple: get every person across 20 feet of “toxic river” using only three foam mats, no feet touching the ground.
Mia, the class president who’d been leading every group activity since first grade, was in charge of the first team. She stood at the front, arms crossed, barking directions before anyone else could open their mouth. “No, Jesse, move the left mat two steps that way. Come on, hurry up, we’re already behind. Why can’t you hold it steady?” Jesse, a quiet kid who wears glasses and struggles with math, hunched his shoulders and adjusted the mat without speaking. The team finished a full two minutes faster than any other group, but when they crossed the finish line, everyone scattered. Jesse wandered off to pick pine needles off his sleeve alone, and no one high-fived anyone.
The second group took longer, and for 10 minutes it looked like they’d never get it right. Their de facto leader was Lila, a girl who sits in the back of class and draws anime in her notebook during announcements, who never volunteers for anything. When their first mat slipped and Sam, who uses a cane, almost lost his balance, Lila didn’t yell at the kid who’d moved it. She laughed, brushed pine needles off her jeans, and said, “Okay, that spot was dumb. Let’s try the one Leo suggested earlier. Wait, Sam, do you need more space to step here? I can move the end mat over so you have more room.” Before they made a final plan, she looked around at the three quiet kids on the team and asked, “Does anyone else have an idea? I’m terrible at judging distance, so someone else check my math here.”
They finished two minutes after Mia’s team, but when they crossed, everyone cheered. They waited for Sam to step off the last mat first, then all trooped over to the cooler together, chattering about what they’d messed up, already planning to try it again after lunch. On the drive home, my daughter slouched in the passenger seat picking at a cherry popsicle stain on her hoodie and said, “Everyone always picks Mia as leader. But I’d rather work with Lila any day. Mia just wants to win, she doesn’t care if anyone else gets to have fun.”
That line stuck with me, because it’s something I’ve seen play out over and over, back when I taught 4th grade and now as a parent. We’re all conditioned to think leadership equals being loud, being first, getting the job done fast. We let kids vote for class officers, we ask for volunteers to lead group projects, and we almost always end up with the Mia type. No one questions it, because that’s what we’ve always been told a leader looks like. The kids who lead by listening, by making space for everyone, by prioritizing the team over the finish line, rarely get tapped first. They’re also the ones no one forgets.
I used to make the same mistake all the time as a teacher. I’d put kids into groups and ask who wanted to be leader, and the first hand up got the job. I thought that meant they cared more, that they’d do a better job. It never occurred to me that raising your hand first just means you’re comfortable being the center of attention, not that you care about the rest of the group.
Over the years I’ve made small, simple changes that work way better, that I now tell other parents and teachers to try. Instead of asking for a single leader when we split into groups for parties or projects, I list out a handful of specific jobs: someone checks we have all the supplies, someone makes sure everyone gets a turn to talk, someone keeps track of time, someone cleans up at the end. No job is labeled “leader,” so any kid can pick something that fits their strengths. If I see a kid steamrolling the whole group, I don’t embarrass them by calling them bossy in front of everyone. I just walk over and say, “Let’s pause. I want to hear from two people who haven’t shared their ideas yet.” It’s a simple line that stops the domination without shame, and it works every time.
When kids come home upset because they’re stuck with a bossy leader, or they didn’t get picked to lead something they wanted, I tell parents to skip the generic lines like “just be more confident” or “it’s okay, next time.” Instead, ask one simple question: “What’s one thing you would do differently if you were leading?” It gets them thinking about what good leadership actually looks like, instead of just dwelling on how bad the bad one was. If your kid says they want to lead more, don’t tell them to just speak up louder. Ask them, “What does your group need that no one is doing right now?” Maybe they’re good at remembering allergies, or good at cheering people up when things go wrong. That’s leadership, even if it’s not the front-and-center kind.
A week after outdoor ed, the 5th grade voted for student council. Mia won, like everyone expected. My daughter texted me from the school bathroom between classes that Lila got 14 votes, more than any other candidate besides Mia. When I asked her what that meant, she said, “Most people still think the loud one is the real leader. But a lot of us know who we’d rather follow.”
Mia’s already gotten new basketball hoops approved for the playground, which is a win for everyone. Lila still doesn’t hold any official titles, but she’s the one who invites the new kid to sit at lunch, who plans weekend bike rides that include everyone, not just the popular crowd. I still mess this up sometimes. Last month I organized a scout camping trip, and I almost put the most outgoing dad in charge of meal planning, until I noticed the quiet mom who’d already written down everyone’s dietary allergies before we even talked about menus. I gave her the job instead, and it went perfectly. Some days, the best leaders don’t look like leaders at all, at first. And we’re all still learning to tell the difference.
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