Mike Buchanan recounts how the wisdom of his headmasters served him well

The first headteacher I worked for was rumoured to appoint staff on the basis of just three criteria: whether you went to Oxford or Cambridge, whether you were a musician, and whether you played rugby, the latter two very obviously being his passions. I guess he hoped that the colleagues he appointed might share all three and pursue excellence in them all through intellectual curiosity, and creative and physical expression.

Alas, as an immature young man, fresh out of university, I only met one of the criteria. But in June 1984, he was clearly desperate to find a physicist for the new academic year. I was lucky to land on my feet.

John was a great person to oversee the start of my life in teaching. He ran a successful, traditional boys’ school, which focused on enabling pupils to grow into fine young men through myriad challenging experiences, and to achieve highly as a result. The purpose of his school was not primarily for the boys to gain great exam results. These came about because the focus was on developing them as people. The results followed, they did not lead; they were necessary but they were not enough. This was a powerful message for me, as a young, impressionable teacher.

As far as I could tell from my position within the school, John didn’t do a great deal other than be present at key times, such as the beginning of the day, during breaks, during the exam season, and at sports matches and concerts. Yes, he relayed key messages with his words, but more so by his manner – standards of behaviour and decency were greatly important to him.

I don’t know if John is still alive but he was a tall, imposing man. Certainly, he was much taller than me. He could have been intimidating – perhaps he was for other people. But he made me feel valuable and valued. He engaged me in conversation, mostly about the rugby I was then playing for London Scottish RFC or, subsequently, my refereeing career with the London Society as I travelled across England and into Europe. He allowed me the space to pursue these personal interests in the conscious knowledge, I am sure, that I would be a better teacher, a better coach, and a better person as a result.

John retired halfway through my time at the school. He was succeeded by someone who taught me another key lesson of great leadership. Tim made me feel he knew me as a person and he was, seemingly, interested in my life and its progress. He remains so to this day.

Tim hosted an informal gathering for his colleagues at his home prior to the launch of the academic year, in order to welcome new faces and reacquaint himself with those who were returning after the summer holidays. He started this tradition in his very first year when he knew no one, so all of the faces, including mine and my wife’s, were new to him and his wife, Alison. I remember arriving at his house one late, glorious, summer Saturday evening. As we approached the front door, Tim and Alison greeted us both correctly by name and he then proceeded to have a conversation with Madeleine about her hockey match earlier that day – she was an avid and capable player. She was stunned and slightly spooked to have been greeted so personally by them both, but we felt just a little bit taller and at ease as a result – I’ll never forget how they both made me feel on that day.

Of course, it’s an old trick used by many which I have subsequently employed myself; memorise names from photographs alongside one or two personal details that you most likely garnered from your predecessor or personal assistant. Nonetheless, it shows real commitment and purpose to actually do it, particularly when you may have hundreds of colleagues and partners to memorise. Engaging with people on a meaningful, personal basis takes real effort and dedication, but boy, does it pay off.

Like John, Tim also appeared not to do very much day to day but, once again, he was about at key times. His behaviours and attitudes said much about what was important in the school he led – teachers are professionals and should be allowed the freedom and space to act professionally with a minimum of interference, but with lots of encouragement and clear guidance about expectations. He allowed others to lead and manage. I have no doubt he addressed concerns about individual performances, but he did so in private, one on one.

He looked for opportunities for young and inexperienced teachers like me to develop. Recognising my impatience to get on and do things, he allowed me to help set up a design technology department, establish a computing laboratory, run training courses for teachers, oversee the general studies programme for the school and two sister schools, and eventually to lead the sixth form, the key section of the school. He made three particularly memorable interventions to help adjust the trajectory of my career.

The first intervention helps to illustrate how others often see things in you that you cannot see yourself. I now know that part of what motivates me is a keen sense of fairness. If I see unfairness or a power imbalance, I seek ways of acting to right the wrong or to provide balance. For example, I see the systematic imbalance of power and opportunity exerted by men in many contexts as being deeply unfair on women (as well as economically wasteful) and so I look for ways to promote opportunity and equality for women. Unnecessary or thoughtless bureaucracy is another way of exerting power and it drives me crazy.

In my youth, my frustration with such things came out as anger. I was, at times, an angry young man and I often deliberately took an opposing view on matters simply as a means of making my voice heard (actually, I still do on occasions, as I’m often reminded by my family). Tim recognised this and the danger I faced as being labelled a ‘troublemaker’. He told me so in clear, simple, direct language. Initially, I was outraged that he was apparently seeking to limit my freedom of speech. Eventually, though, I was grateful as I sought other ways of acting on my motivation. Over time, I was able to redirect my energy into constructive activities that fed my motivational needs.

Tim’s third memorable intervention was to tell me it was time to leave the school. He could see I was hungry for a role and responsibility that he could no longer feed. And so I sought opportunity elsewhere with his active help and encouragement, despite the fact I loved where I was. The lesson is clear. Others will see things in you that you cannot see yourself, so hungrily seek out their perspectives as frequently as possible and use what they see to amplify your intrinsic strengths. The lesson for us as leaders is that we should find ways of providing clear, honest, speedy comments on the behaviours (both positive and negative) of others. By recognising that these behaviours arise from deep, often subliminal motivations, we help bring out the best in people.

So, what are the lessons I learned that might interest you?

1. Leadership through presence and behaviours: Both John and Tim demonstrated leadership by being present at key times and setting standards through their behaviours and attitudes, more than their words.
2. Personal engagement: Tim’s approach to leadership included engaging with colleagues on a personal level, remembering names and personal details, which made people feel valued and respected, and developed deep, lasting trust.
3. Recognising and developing potential: Tim identified my potential and provided opportunities for growth, helping to shape me and my career. He also provided honest feedback, which helped me redirect my energy into constructive activities.

I am forever grateful to John, Tim and other key people in my career, who I might talk about next time.

Mike Buchanan is the founder of PositivelyLeading.co.uk

Mike Buchanan
©Russell Sach