Casey Watts on the WEBlog!

Aug 7, 2025
5 min read

Sometimes I get asked why I'm such a champion for the concept of "clarity". People ask things like, "When did you know you wanted to focus on clarity?" Or, "What was the moment you knew a lack of clarity was the problem?"

In essence, I suppose these questions are meant to illicit the "origin story" of my journey to help leaders gain and create clarity.

Knowing that this question is likely to come up, I've spent a great deal of time trying to decipher that "one moment" where I knew clarity was the root cause of the issues I was noticing:

Teams meeting, but going nowhere fast
New goals or initiatives being stated, but no one getting on board (thus leading to the fizzle)
Teachers nodding their heads in eagerness to implement research-based strategies, but returning to their classrooms to do what they’ve always done
Leaders frustrated that they’ve communicated expectations, but not seeing people carry out those expectations
Teachers frustrated and overwhelmed by yet another thing on their plates and confused why they can’t just be trusted

I thought back to my early days as a first-year teacher, when I found myself leaving my students in the classroom and running to the private teacher bathroom to sit on the floor and cry (yes, I know– never leave your students unattended). Was this the moment I knew clarity was the missing piece?

I thought back to the year I was promoted to Campus Academic Lead, thinking I was going to help make great and necessary change happen - not only for students, but for teachers. I was determined to improve the culture of the campus. I had been a master classroom teacher, pegged as a potential leader who would be a “yes woman” to the leader of the school.

Two things were wrong here: No one was intentionally training and supporting me as a leader of adults AND I’m WAY too stubborn to be a “yes woman.” It turned into the worst year of my career to date. My boss actually changed my job description mid-year, added me to her sh** list, and re-assigned me the following year as a first-grade classroom teacher (undoubtedly hoping I would say “no” and resign… but, as I mentioned in response to an article by Michelle Ament, EdD, I’m stubborn, remember?). Was this the moment I knew clarity was the missing piece?

I considered the time my husband and I became first-time parents after we adopted a sibling group of three, all under the age of 5. We became an instant family in a matter of days. Like most people, because we had both worked with children and in social work for some time, we assumed we had this parenting thing all figured out…We DID NOT. I’ll never forget the first time I realized our limited knowledge and understanding when I stood in our kitchen, speechless and dazed, as I surveyed the chaos before me - a 10-month-old making a mess of scrambled eggs, a 3-year-old loudly flailing on the floor, and a 4-year-old hollering again and again from her timeout chair, “NO, NOT FAIR!” Was this the moment I knew clarity was the missing piece?

I reflected on my first years as a district instructional specialist, under a narcissist who couldn’t even begin to explain my role without making sure I knew how important she was to the creation of it. And I reflected on the many times I wondered if I was the crazy one - because no one else (for at least 4 months) seemed to share their experience with this woman. It's like they wanted to give me time to figure it out on my own - no heads-up. Was this the moment I knew clarity was the missing piece?

The fact of the matter is, I didn’t know clarity was the missing piece in those situations (and many others) until I saw other people experiencing the very things I now try to protect them from:

When I sat at my desk listening to a group of teachers vent their frustrations because “they never know what’s going on,” knowing their administrators were frustrated that people weren’t following the expectations they thought they had "clearly" set - my blood pressure would spike.
When I noticed my new coworker reaching her wit’s end and wanting to pull her hair out because our narcissistic boss couldn’t give any kind of clear directions, I felt my fists clench.
When my husband came home from work irritated that upper-level management was asking them to implement things that made no sense at all - causing extreme burnout - I would say, empathetically but bluntly, “That’s ass-inine!” (Yes, that misspelling is intentional.)
When my daughter’s “Senior Night” as a cheerleader took a wrong turn because of a lack of communication (on others’ parts), and she looked at me and said, “I just feel so stupid,” it broke my heart in two.

I know what it’s like to not know what’s going on. I know what it’s like to be given unclear or mismatched directions. I know what it’s like to experience burnout because of overwhelm and unrealistic expectations. And I know what it’s like to be made to feel stupid.

And let me tell you - I will NOT stand for it.

Realizing this passion to help people experience better than this wasn’t a single moment in time. It was a culmination of many moments for myself… but more specifically, for the people I do life with - and that includes colleagues.

Realizing that these moments were significantly (and almost singularly) correlated with a lack of clarity happened when the word kept coming up:

· “I feel better now that I have clarity.”

· “I guess I just want clarity, that’s all.”

Now, I see clarity (or the lack of it) in EVERYTHING.

And what I’ve noticed is this: We want it. We feel better when we have it. But most people haven’t learned how to gain it - or create it. We land on “communication” as the source of clarification. But clarity requires action.

So… what’s the origin story? How did I come to believe so firmly that clarity precedes capacity? How did I know clarity is the thing I wanted to pour my time and energy into? How did I begin to develop systems that help people gain clarity around their identity as a leader, the direction of their organization, and the way people collaborate authentically?

I’ve lived it. I’ve watched others live it. And I know - without a doubt - there’s a better way.

If you're reading this and thinking, “Yep. I’ve lived this too,” just know - you’re not alone. And it doesn’t have to stay this way.

You can learn more about the systems I’ve built, the book I’ve written, and the work I do with leaders at: 👉 www.catchingupwithcasey.com

Or if you’re the kind of person who likes to dig into the why behind the way we lead, grab a copy of The Craft of Clarity 📘.

Because once you see what’s really going on, you can’t unsee it. And once you name the root, you can actually start to make change happen (with people instead of against them).