During my 28-year career in schools, I was never particularly ambitious. I did not chase promotions, and I was never certain that I wanted to become a Headteacher. What I did know was that I loved every role I held.
I began as a Teacher of Geography and Games in a senior school in South East London, where I learned both the craft of the classroom and the value of sport within a school community. Before long, I took on a Head of Year role and then moved schools to become Head of Geography. I was passionate about the subject and wanted to inspire both my colleagues and my students, sharing my enthusiasm for Geography.
Just over a year later, I became a Housemaster in a boarding school, and five years after that I was appointed Head of Sixth Form at the same school. In September 2013, I started my first headship. Over the following twelve years, I led a 2–16 all-through school in Slough, an 11–16 senior school in North London, and later became an Executive Headteacher across two senior schools. This eventually expanded to leadership across six sites, spanning nursery through to sixth form. As part of this final role, I also sat on the European Leadership Team for Cognita, a global group with over 100 schools worldwide.
So, if I was not ‘ambitious’, why did I continue to move steadily up the leadership ladder? And what did I learn once I reached the so-called ‘top job’?
‘Imposter syndrome’ is a well-known barrier for many when applying for leadership roles, and this was certainly true for me when it came to headship. At each stage before that, I had felt confident that I could do the job well. I was often motivated to apply for promotion when I believed—rightly or wrongly—that I could do the role better than someone already doing it. My self-belief was grounded in the knowledge and experience I had built at that point in my career, and each role suited my character and skill set.
Headship, however, felt different.
After several unsuccessful applications for Deputy Head positions, I eventually took the plunge and applied for headship. My inner voice had been telling me that I did not yet know enough or have sufficient experience. What changed was a simple piece of feedback following a Deputy Head interview: “You interviewed as though you want to be a Head, not a Deputy — so why are you not applying for headship?”
It was a fair question.
I had also come to realise that headship is not about having all the answers. You are not expected to be omniscient, yet for many years I had believed this to be an essential requirement. In reality, leadership is far more about clarity of vision, sound judgement, and the ability to bring out the best in others.
My first headship reinforced this lesson quickly. I moved from being Head of Sixth Form to leading a school that included nursery and primary provision, but no sixth form. My knowledge of the younger years was, at best, limited — I remember having to look up what “EYFS” stood for (Early Years Foundation Stage).
What I learned was that effective leadership does not require expertise in every area. It requires the confidence to ask good questions, the willingness to learn, and the ability to support those who do have that expertise. It is the role of your team to understand the detail; it is the role of the leader to create the conditions in which they can thrive.
That said, headship is not for everyone.
As a parent, I don’t believe you can fully explain what it feels like to hold your newborn child for the first time. In a similar way, it is impossible to truly understand the weight of headship until you experience it. Your name is above the door. You are ultimately responsible for the safety and wellbeing of pupils and staff, for the quality of education, and for the reputation of the school. You will be judged — frequently and often publicly — by inspectors, parents, students and staff.
None of this should come as a surprise. You apply for the role knowing these things. But it is only once you are in the position that you fully appreciate what that responsibility feels like.
For me, it felt right.
I enjoyed the responsibility, the decision-making, and the opportunity to shape a school’s direction. Once again, I had found a role that suited my personality, my skills and my experience. But I am very aware that this will not be the case for everyone.
Much of what I learned over twelve years of headship has been written many times before: the importance of a clear vision, surrounding yourself with excellent people, investing in a positive culture, and embracing authentic and distributed leadership.
But if I were to offer one piece of advice to those considering headship, it would be this: ask yourself the right questions.
Do I want to be a Headteacher?
Why do I want to do it?
Do I have the qualities needed not just to do the job, but to thrive in it?
There is no shame in deciding that headship is not the right path. Schools need a wide range of talents and personalities to function well. The most important thing is to find the role that allows you to contribute at your best.
If you do that, I am confident you will build a rewarding career and, along the way, have a great deal of fun.
