After three months of learning how to work as a consultant, I’ve been struck by how loud the marketplace can be.
There are frameworks and formulas, signature programs and proprietary acronyms — all promising transformation. I understand why; I used to hire them. Schools want clarity, confidence, and a plan. But the longer I do this work, the more convinced I become that the most effective consulting doesn’t start with brilliance. It starts with humility.
That may sound naïve — humility isn’t what gets you noticed. In a space that rewards visibility, it can feel countercultural to lead with quiet. But if we claim to want Brené Brown cultures of vulnerability and trust, why do we so often hire cowboy consultants to save the day? We say we want to build capacity, but too often we just want to buy credibility.
Here’s what I’ve learned from both sides of the table. When schools approach change with humility — when boards and leaders are willing to ask hard questions, to listen deeply, and to hold complexity — they create the conditions for sustainable growth. And when consultants model that same humility — when we listen first, honor context, and resist the urge to prescribe before we understand — we strengthen those same muscles in the institutions we serve. The posture of humility, it turns out, is contagious.
Jim Collins called it “Level 5 Leadership,” the paradoxical blend of fierce professional will and personal humility that turns good organizations into great ones. Jewish tradition calls it anavah. Moshe wasn’t our greatest leader in spite of his humility, but because of it. His clarity came from service, not self.
The best consultants I’ve worked with, inside and outside Jewish education, had strong ideas and structured methods. But they used them to teach us to fish, not to sell us fish. They understood that capacity built through humility lasts longer than credibility bought through charisma.
I’m still learning how to make my voice heard in a noisy world — how to make the case that quiet consulting can be both principled and powerful. But maybe that’s the point. Humility doesn’t demand the spotlight because it already trusts the process. And in a field that teaches others to lead with humility, maybe the truest form of integrity is to model it ourselves.
