“If you think somebody’s voice needs to be at the table, you don’t have to do what the man before you did,” says Barbara Mullen, superintendent of the Rush-Henrietta Central School District in suburban Rochester, New York.
This is one way Mullen encourages other female leaders to challenge the status quo.
The path to district leadership is a long, tumultuous road filled with challenges and setbacks. For these women, the superintendency was the only way they could ensure their students were well taken care of.
Of the nation’s 500 largest school districts, only 152 are led by women and just 72 are led by women of color, according to 2024 data from ILO Group, a women-founded national education strategy and policy firm. In such a male-dominated field, women are pressured to make one of two choices: blend into their environment or be true to themselves.
Some of the best advice Mullen received from a mentor was, “Don’t try to lead a life like a ‘man.'” Meaning, you don’t always have to wear blue and black pantsuits if you hold a leadership position like the superintendency.
“If you like makeup, wear makeup. If you don’t, don’t,” she says. “If you like fun shoes then wear fun shoes.”
After accepting her current job, for instance, she replaced the furniture in her office to fit her style.
“I have a big pink chair in my office, and people ask, ‘Why does she have a big pink chair?’ It’s because I like pink,” she says. Additionally, her school board chair is pink, and her board members tout purple chairs. It’s part of an idea she calls “leading from your authentic place.”
Similarly, Shari Camhi, superintendent of the Baldwin Union Free School District in New York’s Nassau County, believes there’s value in staying true to yourself, no matter how bumpy the road might get.
“Don’t change who you are because of your environment,” she says. “All that does is diminish who you are, and I don’t think that’s a role we should have to play.”
At the end of the day, your job is to create the best conditions for the students you serve, she adds.
“Ask yourself ‘What is it going to take to create those conditions and travel down that road?’ It’s gotten bumpy for me, but when I look back, all of it was worth it because it created the stamina, strength and fortitude to be able to understand what it takes to navigate those waters,” says Camhi.
Your path to the superintendency may look different
Not everyone takes the traditional route to district leadership, which was the case for Mullen and Camhi.
Mullen, who started in public relations, inevitably took progressive leadership roles like special education director and assistant superintendent. However, in every role prior to becoming superintendent, she felt she always had to ask, “Who do I need to talk to to get things done for kids?”
“I always felt like I was just one role beneath being able to actually make the decision that was best for children, specifically the students I advocated for,” she says.
Camhi, who also serves as a board member for the National Assessment Governing Board and was president of The School Superintendents Association (AASA) in 2022-23, started out as the first and only female teacher in New York City Public Schools in what was known as “600” Schools, a series of 12 special schools in New York that served emotionally disturbed and socially maladjusted children.
After about a year, she left public education to work in private industry, education technology, management software and a variety of other opportunities before returning to education as a technology director and later earning her current superintendent job. It’s these non-traditional pathways that make it difficult for leaders to establish themselves, especially among females.
“Every step of the way was an obstacle,” says Camhi. Now as superintendent, she makes it a priority to teach her colleagues and make them aware of the pressures female leaders face daily.
For example, she and her team met with several local officials to discuss expanding the district’s career partnerships. As they sat down, she began to kick off the conversation when the men across the table intervened, asking, “Shouldn’t we wait for the superintendent?”
“I could be insulted, right?” she says. “I could be angry. I could be a million different things. The two gentlemen from my district responded instead and said, ‘She is the superintendent.'”
These things happen all the time, she adds. But she rests in the victories like in this scenario where her colleagues stepped up because Camhi taught them to handle these situations.
“I feel like part of my responsibility is to have the men that work with me aware that this exists so they can, a.) change their behavior, and b.) they can teach their daughters some of the things that they will deal with and strategies for dealing with them,” says Camhi.
“You don’t get upset, you don’t get insulted, but you actually stand up taller,” she concludes. “Your voice becomes more authoritative. You smile and, in some cases, let those around you respond because the folks who have been with you over the years are so aware that it exists that their behavior changes.”
