My Dad died last month, on Easter Monday. Awash with symbolism, we were at his bedside throughout the Easter weekend, watching with him through the night whilst listening to the services and Masses of the Easter triduum that are so familiar to Catholics all over the world. All who have lost a parent will know my current jumble of emotions, but above all I feel a great pride in his life and the extended family he helped to nurture.

Having written and delivered the eulogy, I would also like to reflect on the one core theme that never left us as we submerged ourselves in memories and anecdotes in the lead-up to his requiem Mass. The theme is connection.

For that is what Dad sought out throughout his life, the simple joy of finding connections with all those he met, and seeking hope in their stories and journeys. My wider reflection is on how this quality is so important for leaders and teachers in education. It has reminded me how much this is at the core of our work. 

Dad saw hope and potential in every person, every interaction, every meeting. He made other people feel special. Despite a career in business, he didn’t see interactions as transactional, or as a way to get ahead, or to be used for future gain. Instead, he sought out the simple joy of
connection, however obtuse. These connections gave him joy and simple pleasure, for example when visiting my sister-in-law’s family in Malaysia and finding out that you could eat British baked beans in Borneo.

Each interaction put hope uppermost in his heart.

There was barely any cynicism at all in these encounters. He was welcoming and
engaging. He wanted people to feel good. He couldn’t understand it when this
wasn’t reciprocated (although his close family could – he didn’t half go on sometimes).

Dad would have been touched to see so many people at his own funeral, and probably quite surprised. Quite possibly, he underestimated the importance of his active pursuit of connection and friendship. It really meant a lot to people.

So what do I take from this? Well, firstly huge pride in Dad’s life. Even in those last years, living with such cruel dementia, he put a smile on so many faces. But secondly, a determination to make this front and centre of our leadership priorities in education. The time is right for a re-routing of the current pathway to rancour, division and hostility.

I feel we are abandoning the pursuit of simple connections. The time spent on the playground with a bleary-eyed parent whose child just will not sleep. The thought extended to a bereaved family by just sending a card or consolatory email. Or asking after a past pupil who has started a new job, or got into university, or become a Mum for the first time.

It can be even simpler. Just standing at the school gate and welcoming everyone by name. That’s what my Dad would have done. He would probably have had a nickname for each and every one too. Sadly, such is the pressure on school staff, and so deep is the managerial and bureaucratic hole lassoing in many current leaders, that these connections are being missed on a daily basis. The time on the playground is exchanged for time on a laptop, furiously collecting evidence. I heard of a leader who recently turned his nose up at supervising the student buses. When asked what was wrong, he replied, ‘The thing is, I’m not pupil-facing.’

For me, we cannot work in education and not take joy, time and inspiration from these daily connections and interactions. They are the red blood cells of our work. Teachers and support staff will recognise this (by default it has been delegated to them), but it seems to be heading down the priority list for school leaders.

Yours truly included. I feel I have had less interactions with people this year, probably as a result of my work for the Pope Francis Catholic MAT where things are at the more formal, foundational stage. And due to this secondment, at my own school I am now an Executive Head largely in absentia.

But soon it will change back as I begin working with our schools, and if there is one thing I am committed to doing, it’s celebrating the legacy of my Dad. He was the master of connection. At the very least, these daily connections provide us with moments of joy and great humour.  They are very good for our mental health. And, given the world we live in today, this is just what we need.

Go on, try it. A splash of joy and a smile of hope.

Thanks Dad, and rest in peace.