Nicole McCartney is CEO of Creative Education Trust. She was formerly a headteacher, senior leader and teacher. She writes:

I have never been interested in power. I have only ever wanted change, for things to work, for children to be seen and supported, and for systems to be improved.  

My earliest lessons came from home. As a young carer, I had to grow up fast. My mother, when she was well, was an activist and taught me to watch how decisions were made and to ask why. My father taught me something quieter - but no less powerful - when I helped him with underground cable repairs, silently tracing faults from a house, to a substation, to the network. Leadership, I learned, can be about patience, meticulousness and unwavering resolve.

As a difficult student, I was always aware of the adults who were making decisions about me. Sometimes I felt they were too lenient, sometimes too harsh. Later, in my working life, I found the same: leaders who were kind but ineffective, and others who drove results but lacked empathy. A few were able to succeed with humanity. I learned from all of them.

When I got my first principalship, I bought a grey suit from Next. I was riddled with imposter syndrome and thought I had to be someone else in order to be taken seriously. It was a dress and jacket, and I remember a feeling of not being able to move my neck all day, not because it didn’t fit, but because of how it made me feel: stiff, inauthentic, not me. I realised very quickly that this was a mistake, and that leadership cannot be a costume. It only works if you show up as yourself.

I have often felt judged and sometimes dismissed. Partly it’s because I’m American, and some people here [in the UK] paint me with their stereotypes. Partly it’s because I’m a woman with a certain kind of personality on which people make assumptions. My reaction is usually: “Fine. You won’t see me coming; watch this!” I’ve learned to lean into people’s expectations, then redefine them - sometimes with stealth and sometimes with shock. It’s their problem either way.

I make mistakes like anyone else. But my intent is rarely flawed. I think of leadership as going into the forest and cutting a path so others can walk through. I am relentless in what I want for our children, though I’ve told my team to call me out if that relentlessness ever slips into idealism, which it can do.

Good leaders don’t hold the stick over people’s heads. Instead, they find their superpowers and let them lead. I’m more impressed by someone who can turn a colleague’s underperformance into success than by someone who rules with fear. I want people around me who will grow, listen and adapt, and who value dialogue and dissent.

When I’m not working, I like things that actually finish - because, in education, the work never really does. That’s why I enjoy advanced Lego sets: they’ve got a beginning, middle and end, even if I’m never quite sure what to do with them once they’re built. I also try to get out walking or paddleboarding whenever I can. It gives me some proper quiet and headspace, and reminds me how good it feels just to be in nature for a while.

Those who pick an ideological camp and refuse to budge rarely succeed. The ones who thrive are those who can sit at the table, hear a different view, and change their mind. That’s what I look for in myself and in those around me. I’m not here to collect badges. 

Ultimately, leadership is a balance of conviction and humility. Children deserve the first, teams need the second.

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