LETTER FROM THE EDITOR
BOTH CAN BE TRUE: LEADING THROUGH COMPLEXITY
TIPHANI CHAPLIN
In this issue, we honor principals not only for what you overcome, but for what you make possible. This is a tough time. And yet, as the start of any new year, it’s also a hopeful one. Yes, both can be true. The headlines are heavy. The inequities are real. But so is the joy. So is the progress. So are the wins that rarely make the news. You’ve come a long way... and still have a long way to go. You hold the challenges and the accomplishments. The hope and the frustration. The vision and the questions. That’s what principalship requires. You protect students when fear is loud. You support your staff when pressure is high. You meet with families in the face of painful realities. You de-escalate in hallways, balance budgets that don’t make sense, and attend community events long after your workday should have ended. You answer the call when it would be easier not to. You hold the line when it’s scary. And somehow... somehow... you still make space for joy. This month, you’ll see student artwork from Blaine Elementary —portraits of their principal and assistant principal as superheroes. Submitted by art teacher Tasha Welling, the drawings reflect how students see their leaders. As protectors. As champions. As the people who show up. Also featured are pieces from Blaine’s Hispanic Heritage series—full of pride, culture, and joy. That joy makes what’s happening across our communities even harder to witness. Right now, immigration enforcement is disrupting families. Students are walking into your schools with fear in their eyes. Some are watching loved ones disappear. Others feel unsure if school is still the safe haven it used to be. And yet, you are doing everything you can to hold them steady—even as your own communities, your own hope, and your own joy are being tested. You work to protect a sense of normal when nothing feels right. To create calm in the middle of chaos. Because in this moment, both must be true. Because even when fear is managed... it doesn’t disappear.
It settles in. And if we aren’t careful, it stays. We’ve seen what happens when fear is left to linger... we’ve seen how it settles into generations. We see it in communities that have long been marginalized. Especially Black communities, where distrust of systems isn’t theoretical... it’s inherited. Where families are still fighting to be seen, to be safe, to have access to the very resources that should already be guaranteed. And now, even the programs meant to repair that harm (the ones that could begin to level the playing field) are being targeted. Rolled back. Erased. For so many, public education has been the only path toward justice. The only place where equity could be real, not just rhetoric. And you (especially in this moment) are the ones doing the work to hold that line. But fear leaves marks. And we are worried. Not just about today. About what this will mean in the long run. For the trust your students carry. For the communities you serve. For the kind of future you’re helping to shape. This is the work. You are fighting for the conditions your students deserve. You are speaking up when the headlines are loud but the humanity is missing. You are holding space. Making it safe again. We are your union. But we are also human. We are heartbroken by what’s unfolding. And we are standing with you and with the families who are looking to you for strength, even as they are being pulled apart. So yes... we absolutely must celebrate you and what you do every day. And our hope is that this magazine reflects that work. An offering of some hope in the face of fear... some truth when misunderstandings are rampant... some beauty in the ugliness of division. Because even now... both can be true.
Tiphani Chaplin Managing Editor, CPAA Quarterly | tchaplin@mycpaa.com
8 • CPAA MAGAZINE | OCT 2025
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