The sun is streaming in the window at the back of the hall.  The school staff are smiling,  suntanned and relaxed,  bearing witness to the long days of summer sun.  What a different energy from the one I felt in this room 3 short months ago.  We are here to look forward to the coming year, determined to hang on to all that is special about this school, in the face of the challenges and opportunities of a new school year which includes the start of a 2-year re-build and whatever new initiatives Mr Gove identifies next.  For me, this is the culmination of 9 months’ work supporting this school to re-define its values.  I had offered the headteacher the use of the Barrett Values Centre’s School Values Assessment (SVA) as a means of helping to address some of the anxieties in the system which she defined as

• conscientious teachers worried about being observed, in case they were found wanting;
• staff feeling intimidated by some parents, so that parents’ evenings were becoming a source of anxiety;
• some negativity and rumblings among the staff behind the scenes, which the head was finding it difficult to flush out.

The Values Centre’s School Values Assessment survey is a disarmingly simple and potentially extremely powerful instrument.  We all know that work is more rewarding when our work allows us to live our values.  It asks 3 simple questions

1.  What are your top 10 personal values?
2. What are the top 10 values you experience in school?
3. What top 10 values should the school now focus on to move forward?

The results provide leaders with a systematic means of evaluating the climate of the school and providing the gateway to a powerful dialogue about things that really matter, which underpin excellence in learning and teaching – and frequently remain hidden.

The first feedback on the results of the diagnostic to the SMT was puzzling. While the leadership team congratulated themselves on the good match across the three categories closer scrutiny revealed some hard messages.  One group of staff was having a different experience of the culture from another, and it wasn’t so positive.  Later I fed back to the whole school.  There was no point in hiding the hard messages: those who experienced the culture most positively were upset to think that their experience wasn’t universal.

We kept focused, knowing that acknowledging that people had different experiences was the first step to understanding and addressing what was happening.  The unspoken negativity had risen to the surface for the first time   The ‘elephants in the room’ had been acknowledged.

In the third session I posed the question ‘what are we NOT talking about?’.  People were encouraged – anonymously – to express the inexpressible and together to talk about how – as a school – they could address such difficulties.  It was as emotionally draining as it was necessary.  While they had had to face difficult issues, they had talked about them. As an outsider,  I could see what wasn’t evident to those who were viewing the picture in close-up: that there were subliminal messages in the culture which could account for the different experience of different groups of staff.  In the SMT we talked about system changes which could help.

The ‘desired culture’ helpfully included a call for ‘shared values’.  Starting with the 10 values which had originally been identified by the whole staff as representing the desired culture (several of which they were already experiencing), we spent the day honing them down to 5 which they felt essential for the coming year.  Most importantly, they spent time agreeing definitions, identifying what that value would look like in practice, and what they individually and collectively, needed to do to grow the value.  I overheard discussions about the difference between teamwork and co-operation; there was a lively debate about what ‘open communication’ means, and evident agreement about ‘passion for learning’.

The dialogue which resulted from the headteacher’s courage in starting this journey has led to a new level of trust and confidence amongst colleagues. They have articulated shared values.  which are beginning to be understood by all.  Next time, I hope they ask children, parents, and governors, too.

The post Values, not rules first appeared on Chrysalis Leadership Development.

I’d travelled for close-on 3 hours by now, making a conscious decision to take the walk from my house to the railway station slowly, noticing the bright blue sky and wispy clouds – a breathe of Spring and new life. The service was due to start at 1.00 and I judged that I had time for a coffee in the Comfy Pew before joining the mourners. There were many of them, but Gloucester Cathedral is huge and they would undoubtedly have prepared for a crowd.

I take a seat at the window, thinking I might see someone I know as they pass. The magnetic force is strengthening as more and more and more people pass: youngsters in green and gold; young men in suits; girls in short skirts, their long hair flowing, chatting animatedly: our hope for the future; Larry’s hope for the future. Older women, couples, colleagues in dark suits and ties, families. A mother pauses to adjust her daughter’s uniform. The Comfy Pew is filling up. I’m drawn to engage in conversation with others who are obviously going to the funeral. When I do, everyone has a tale to tell of how Larry touched their lives and the lives of others they knew.

12.20pm now, and I’m wondering whether I was hasty in thinking that seating in the cathedral won’t be a problem, as I join a queue waiting to enter. There are already 1000 inside, we’re told. I meet a priest who has travelled from the Suffolk coast, who knew Larry when he was a deputy in Norfolk, 30 years before. A former science teacher who trained at Larry’s school shares her story, her broad smile stiffening occasionally as she struggles to control her emotion.

When I finally reach the cathedral there are already people standing in almost every available space. The only free seats have ‘reserved’ on the block. Someone points out to me that a seat is available. Like a driver finding the last parking space, I make a dash for it without checking whether anyone else has also identified it as theirs. then feel slightly embarrassed by my haste; only after I am seated do I look round and justify my privilege by my age in comparison to that of others sitting round me.

Thirty minutes now until the service is due to start and I discover that my neighbour is someone I have often spoken to on the telephone. She has worked closely with Larry for over twenty years. ‘He would have been amazed by this’ she tells me ‘He was always so humble. He didn’t know the impact he had on others’. I know this to be true. Ten minutes before the service, and the murmur of voices is hushed by the school choir’s rendition of the Taize chorus ‘Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.’ The rise and fall of the harmony seems to lift our friend gently to the Lord as the solo flute accompaniment announces his arrival at the gate of heaven.

The mood changes as the service starts. Somehow, it seems, those waiting outside the cathedral have managed to squeeze in, despite literally thousands arriving before them. The funeral procession arrives to the joyous sounds of ‘Shine Jesus, shine!’, accompanied by the band: saxophone and drums give their all. Though there must be many who, like me, struggle to keep emotion from their voices, I can also hear the commitment described later in the service by the chair of governors, who refers to a recent occasion when Year 7s encouraged each other at a rugby tournament: ‘Come on; let’s do it for Larry’.

‘Doing it for Larry’ was a result of the loyalty and commitment he inspired. I had the great privilege of working with him on his first and several subsequent programmes when facilitating the national Leadership Programme for Serving Headteachers. His passionate commitment to young people inspired me and those we worked with. He managed to combine joy, fun and laughter with a relentless drive for the best possible outcomes for students. We kept in touch, and it was typical of him that he agreed to be an interviewee for some research I was conducting recently. When I emailed to double check he was still up for it, I had the response ‘I am looking forward to it as I hope to discover more of my deficiencies’. False modesty? I don’t think so. He had a great capacity for sending himself up, even when the effects of his cancer treatment turned him into ‘a gargoyle’ as he put it to me once, commenting that it was an appropriate challenge to his vanity.

When we met he talked about the school focusing on ‘the dignity and respect of all people’ and the need for integrity in the organisation. He is the only headteacher I’ve ever heard speak of students being ‘prepared to work with us to achieve their potential’. A much more common notion is that the school works with the students. Larry knew that the school needed to gain students’ respect and never took that for granted. If a relentless drive for higher achievement did not first embrace the principle of ‘dignity and respect of all people’ he wasn’t interested.

At his funeral, his son’s moving tribute included the comment that the school ‘was never about him’. He had a high profile locally and nationally, and no doubt some people thought this was driven by a need to be noticed. He didn’t mind if people disliked him because of that; he knew it wasn’t true. His only concern was to gain the best education for all; he was so clear about his purpose, that it over-rode any concern to be popular. The only concern he expressed to me was that his making himself unpopular might have a negative impact on the school.

Possibly the last time we met, which was before his successor at St Peter’s was announced, we talked about how the school community would cope when he retired. He had already indicated that what he would miss most was being with the ‘young people’ as he always referred to them (with the accent on ‘young’) and seeing talent flourish. I suggested that the whole community would need to go through a time of mourning his departure – aware, even as I spoke – of the prophetic parallel which I was stirring. He had never made a secret of his illness. ‘Oh’, he said ’they’ll miss me for a few weeks, but they’ll soon forget me’. I persisted. ‘It’ll be hard enough for a new head coming in’ I said ‘without people feeling they’re not allowed to be real about how they’re feeling’.

As I write this, I wonder whether the unprecedented display of support, emotion and thanksgiving that was evident at Gloucester cathedral last Friday could have happened in the same way if the school had already had a new head. Perhaps, just perhaps, his decision to remain head of St Peter’s to the end allowed his death to be a gift to the school, just as his life has been.

The post Larry Montagu first appeared on Chrysalis Leadership Development.

That got me thinking. How often do we as leaders miss the obvious cost-effective solution? This week I’ve been looking again at my research on emotional resilience for school leadership. Why emotional resilience? Because managing our emotions is ultimately what allows us to continue without being overwhelmed.

So is emotional resilience something leaders are born with? Does it develop over time? Can it be learned? The answer to all these questions is ‘yes’. One of the headteachers I interviewed talked about having ‘a lucky personality’. There were very few situations in which she’d felt she really couldn’t think of a way out. All interviewees felt that their emotional resilience had developed over time just by doing the job. Are we happy to leave it to chance, or can we pro-actively develop emotional resilience for leadership?

It is possible to learn to be more emotionally resilient and there are ways of behaving and thinking which will help. The difficulty is that many headteachers instinctively put their own needs at the bottom of the list. Even those who know about Stephen Covey’s time management guidance and dealing with the conflicting demands of what’s important and what’s urgent, don’t see their own needs as sufficiently significant to prioritise them. Research suggests that ways of feeding headteachers’ emotional resilience include

• Taking exercise
• Eating a healthy diet: drinking lots of water and alcohol in moderation
• Getting enough sleep
• Networking with other headteachers
• Recognising and celebrating what’s going well
• Recognising that some things are outside my influence
• Re-connecting with what gives me a buzz
• Having regular coaching to ensure the above
• Accepting that sometimes ‘good enough’ has to be good enough

Of course you know all this, but when the pressure’s on, other things seem more important. You miss the obvious: that you can deal with life’s pressures more effectively if you’re feeling more emotionally resilient.
What’s really required to facilitate all the above is deep self-awareness and a belief that it is okay to prioritise your own needs. That’s tricky.

If you’re deeply self aware, you will know why you find it difficult to put yourself first; you’ll listen to and heed your body’s warning signals; you’ll challenge unhelpful patterns of thinking; you’ll recognise that you have a choice concerning whether to absorb others’ stress; you’ll resist colluding with the expectation that you are superman/woman.
and you’ll show compassion for yourself.

Given the climate of high expectations, high public accountability and lack of compassion shown by the press or the government, that’s going to be difficult. But it is possible.

Make a start today – and by the way, it’s okay to ask for help.

The post Supporting emotional resilience first appeared on Chrysalis Leadership Development.

Whether we like it or not, however quietly we lead, as successful leaders, we are in a position of power. Sit round a board room table, have the chair express his or her opinion first, and in most cases, others will fall into line. A throw-away comment is given the status of policy, because it’s uttered by a leader. As leaders, one of our roles is to influence others. How do we maintain the balance between influencing others, and allowing them to influence us?

The difficulty is that as you climb the leadership ladder, others are less and less inclined to challenge you. And yet if they don’t, you are in danger (albeit unwittingly) of suffering from wilful blindness – described by Margaret Heffernan in her book as seeing and hearing only those things that accord with your view of the world. You may welcome robust debate, but if it always ends in you behaving in exactly the way you intended before the debate started, in time people will save their breath and stop challenging you.

I spend much of my time working with headteachers. Without exception, every one I have met took on the role because they want to make a positive difference to the lives of young people. They are ethical, driven by a strong moral purpose. I have also worked with senior leaders who are not yet headteachers; occasionally they tell me that they are managing a very difficult balancing act between their headteacher and the rest of the staff. ‘S/he upsets them’ I’m told; ‘S/he doesn’t listen’; ‘the staff are really demotivated by her/his bullying behaviour’ … etc. Generally, my response is to ask whether – when they reach headship – they would want to know if that’s how staff are feeling. ‘Of course’ they reply earnestly. ‘I’d hate to feel that people think I’m like that’ . ‘So who’s role is it to share that information with the head?’ I ask. Sometimes, they decide they will have that difficult conversation, because they believe it’s in the best interests of the school. Sometimes they tell me that they’ve tried, or that they don’t feel it would be productive, occasionally adding ‘I’m going to need a reference one day’. Every senior leader I work with who is in that position is determined that they won’t lose touch with what’s going on in their school. Sometimes, however, they do.

Something happens in and around leadership that sets leaders apart. Your followers will invest in you all sorts of motivations and responses which may be completely inaccurate as far as you’re concerned. But If it’s what they believe, it will affect how they behave. Whether you will be angry when someone tells you there was an error in the financial spreadsheet, matters not one iota. It’s how they imagine you will react that matters. Whether you smile and say ‘thanks for sharing that with me’ in response to someone telling you that most of the staff are afraid of you, or say defensively ‘that’s ridiculous: how can they possibly be afraid of me?’ is less important than how they think you’ll react. As a leader, you live not only your own reality, you live in the shadow of everyone else’s, too.
As leaders we may remain prepared to listen to others’ inconvenient truths – but how can we ensure that they will be ready to share them? What’s the key to creating a climate of trust, where you can rely on others to be honest and share what might feel like criticism? Here – in no particular order -are just a few pointers which others have found useful:

1. When you arrive, set out your stall: tell people you want to make a success of the role, and you need their help to do so. You can’t do anything about things that aren’t working unless you know about them. Invite everyone to tell you (personally or in writing) two things that they feel positive about in the organisation, and one thing they’d like to change. Pick up the trends and feed back on them. Acknowledge the trends and the isolated comments, so that people feel heard. Keep listening.
2. Know who your allies are at every level. They are not necessarily the people who tell you how wonderful everything is; they are those who are brave and skilled enough to share the good and the bad in a way that can be heard. Trust your instincts: that’s why you were given them, but know what’s driving them, too. The person who seems to want to undermine your authority may actually have a point. If you think someone might not be trustworthy, be cautious in your dealings with them, until you have evidence to back up or challenge your first impression. Keep listening.
3. Listen to all feedback, even if you think it comes from those with a personal hidden agenda. In time you will get to know how much credence to invest in each comment, but all feedback is worthy of consideration. If you’re in a position to do a complete evaluation of the workforce perspective (such as through using the Barrett Values Centre’s cultural transformation tools) so much the better. Or undertake a 360 assessment, which will at least tell you what your workforce think about your behaviour. Keep listening – and reflect on what you hear.
4. Remember that your predecessor was only human, even if memories expressed by others suggest otherwise. Allow people to mourn the loss of your predecessor; find a way to acknowledge his/her contribution, and state how you will build on it. Keep listening, reflect on what you hear and consider how it connects with what you already know.
5. Trust yourself and be open to the thought that you may be wrong. Don’t look only for evidence which confirms that you are right. Be alert to contra-evidence. If things seem too good to be true, they probably are. Keep listening, reflect on what you hear, consider how it connects with what you already know and what action you might take as a result.
6. Keep a sense of proportion. Leaders can often pick up the projections of others. If your workforce want you to be a super-hero, it’s tempting to buy into the pact. If the economic climate is bleak and times are tough, it’s easy to take out anger and frustration on the leader. Know yourself, separate your insecurities from those of your colleagues. Keep listening, reflect on what you hear, consider how it connects with what you already know and check out your intentions with a trusted colleague, or impartial observer, such as your coach. If change is necessary, share your intentions. Model the leadership behaviour you would like to see in others.

Regard power as a gift loaned by those who have invested in you. Guard it well, and it will be repaid with interest.

The post The challenge of power: collide or collude? first appeared on Chrysalis Leadership Development.