I’ll call her Lois.

She’s a literacy coordinator I’ve known for ages, and she keeps me on my tippy tippy toes, y’all. Lois is ex-military. She has a husband, two dogs, four children, a doctorate, and thirty years of hard fought public school teaching and leadership experience under her belt. 

And that belt? Well, it carries a notch for every edu-charlatan who ever tried to sell a single drop of snake oil to any colleague in her system.

I love working with people like Lois.

They also terrify me.

“Angela,” she sighed heavily at the end of a particularly rigorous day of learning just last spring, “I have sat through dozens of keynote addresses, workshops, webinars, and PLC meetings. Actually, hundreds. Usually I’m checking email by the second slide, making my grocery list during the break-out sessions, and counting down the minutes until I can escape back to my classroom.”

I nodded and smiled, my stomach sinking a bit as I waited for her to drop whatever criticism was coming.

But she paused, looking almost surprised at herself. “Girl, today I actually forgot to check my phone. For three hours. Three hours! Angela, tell me: When’s the last time that happened to YOU in whatever PD hellscape you typically navigate yourself? You must sit in trainings or meetings sometimes. Don’t tell me you don’t know what I mean.”

We all know what Lois means, now don’t we?

“And you know what’s really nuts?” she continued, “I have dedicated the last decade of my career to coaching teachers on how to keep kids engaged, how to make learning stick, how to create experiences and relationships that matter. But when it comes doing the same for teachers, it seems that boredom is just the price of admission.”

Why do we demand engaging and authentic learning experiences for children but accept sit-and-get tedium for adults? 

That chat with Lois last spring reminded me of how important it is to walk my talk, as well as I’m able. It reminded me that every choice I make as a facilitator either moves people forward or sets them back on their worn out heels. That’s why I take learning design and facilitation very seriously. I’ve studied cognitive science, organizational psychology, systems thinking, and instructional design. I’ve observed master facilitators across industries. I’ve also documented and experimented relentlessly with my own practice.

As an independent education consultant, I’m typically hired to help educators understand and solve high stakes literacy problems. I’ve worked more than full time in this capacity, without needing to promote myself, for over twenty years. Each new partnership is typically the result of a referral that a satisfied teacher or administrator has made. And here’s the thing: They aren’t pleased with me simply because I have a certain professional expertise (although I do and so do you and that matters). They’re pleased with me because I know how to create and facilitate the kind of professional learning experiences where people forget to check their phones and the Lois’s in the room truly trust me because they know I value them. I’m counting on them. I’m learning…from them. I’ve earned that trust.

Reciprocity matters, and when facilitators take care to design with intention, they benefit as well. 

Taking this work seriously means I never burn out. It’s helped me clarify my values, sharpen my moral compass, find my people, and maintain beginner’s mind. Taking this work seriously has helped me create a deeply fulfilling life.

None of this is magic—it’s intentionality. If you are a serious learning facilitator and a consultant who is committed to doing their very best work, then you know this is true: Every bit of content, every interaction, every transition, every moment of learning must be crafted with purpose, assessed with care, and refined on our feet in response to what we learn from the people we serve in real time.

How do we do right here? And how do we continually improve?

As a fledgling facilitator, I wore myself out establishing absolutely essential processes, protocols, routines, and rituals that are second nature to me now. I dug into adult learning theory, steeped myself in the research, sourced approaches from different industries, and did a ton of action research. I pulled critical friends around me, found others well outside of my own field, and learned how to interrogate my own thinking. I kept my head down, focused more on networking my learning than networking with the big dogs, and most importantly–I listened to the people I serve.

I didn’t have a mentor or a guide way back when I was a beginner. I do now. And I have a deep toolkit to show for it.

I want to share it with you.

If you’re responsible for designing and facilitating high quality professional learning, you need far more than an awareness of research-based practices, spiffy content, or a slick aesthetic. You need facilitation tools and approaches that create real engagement in the short term and lasting change. You need a community, too.

And here’s something else: Today’s leaders–and their funders–will not only expect you to design and lead with intention, they’ll expect you to measure and report your impact. I know that quite a few of you may need support here, as well. So, let’s get your methodology in place.

The Intentional Facilitator is a cohort-based learning experience that welcomes public, private, and independent school leaders, professional learning facilitators in any capacity, and independent education consultants who are ready to take radical responsibility for serving others well. 

Monday Meetings for the Spring of 2026: 3/16, 3/23, 3/30, 4/20, 4/27

Times: 7am EST (6 CST, 5 MST, 4 PST) or 7pm EST (6 CST, 5 MST, 4 PST)  Choose the time that best meets your needs from week to week, and know that you will have access to each recording until January 1, 2026 if you’re unable to meet in person.

Course Overview: Click here to open, download, and share

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