The Art of Being Together — Part 6 : Real People, Real Schools
When people talk about leadership, they often describe vision, systems, or accountability.
For me, leadership begins with something simpler - showing up as a real person.
Because children can sense authenticity faster than adults ever can.
They know when you mean it, and they know when you do not.
The best thing I ever did as a principal was to stop pretending that I had to fit someone else’s version of what a leader should look like.
I stopped polishing the edges and started leading the way I live, with honesty, humour, and a slightly (although my kids would say a very loud) noisy passion for heavy metal.
Leading as Yourself
It took me a long time to realise that leadership does not require a mask.
When I first started, I thought I had to be calm all the time, professional all the time, endlessly patient.
The truth is, children learn more from seeing adults be real than from seeing them be perfect.
If I walk into a classroom tired or distracted, they see it.
If I am excited or moved by something, they see that too.
The difference is that now I name it.
I might say, “I’m a bit off today,” or “I had a long drive last night,” and suddenly they know it is okay to be human.
That honesty builds trust faster than any programme ever could.
“Authenticity is the shortest route to connection.”
I have found that once you lead as yourself, you create permission for others to do the same.
Staff begin to relax.
They stop performing professionalism and start bringing their whole selves to work - the musician, the gardener, the parent, the joker, the crazy thoughts they have on their way to school - like my nose is in the way of me seeing the road.
The energy changes.
The laughter gets louder.
And that is when you know a school is alive.
Making School Free
When we talk about wellbeing and equity, we have to talk about access.
For too long, education has quietly asked families to pay for the privilege of attending school.
Uniforms, stationery, trips, lunches each small cost chips away at dignity.
So we made a decision: Tokoiti would be genuinely free.
We stopped charging for stationery.
We gave the students the school uniform.
We provided lunches and made sure every trip or event was covered.
It was not just about money.
It was about fairness.
It was about saying to every child, “You belong here. You do not need to earn your place.”
The difference was immediate.
Parents relaxed.
Children stopped feeling anxious about what they wore or whether they had the right gear.
It levelled the emotional ground, and it built trust in the community.
“When you remove barriers, you do more than create access. You create dignity.”
Some people said it was too generous or that it would not last.
But generosity is sustainable when it is shared.
We found support from businesses, from families who wanted to help, and from the way people looked after each other.
The cost of care is always smaller than the cost of exclusion.
People Before Policy
Working in a small school means the line between policy and person is thin.
You know every child, every family, every story.
That closeness can make decisions harder, but it also keeps you grounded.
You cannot hide behind systems when you are face to face with the people those systems affect.
I have learnt that sometimes you have to make decisions that are right before you make the ones that are tidy.
The rules matter, but people matter more.
That is what keeps leadership human.
I think of it as relational ethics, a way of leading that asks, “What does this person need right now?” rather than “What does the policy say?”
It means listening before judging, asking before deciding, and always leaving room for grace.
That approach has shaped how we handle everything from student behaviour to staff support.
We start with empathy and work our way forward from there.
The results speak for themselves.
Fewer conflicts, deeper trust, and a staff culture that looks after its own.
“When people feel seen, they no longer need to fight to be heard.”
What Authentic Leadership Feels Like
Authentic leadership is not glamorous.
It looks like staying late to help a colleague finish a report or showing up to a student’s sports game on a weekend.
It looks like washing the coffee cups yourself or laughing at your own mistakes in front of the children.
It is not about status; it is about presence.
There is a moment that still makes me smile.
One afternoon, I was in the playground wearing my denim jacket, with the arms cut off and decorated with the patches of all the bands I have seen live in concert, because I was heading off to see a great New Zealand heavy metal band, Devilskin, in concert.
A child looked at me and said, “You look like you belong in a band, not a school.”
I told him, “Maybe both.”
He grinned and said, “That’s cool.”
That is the moment he saw that adults can be whole people too.
Being yourself gives others permission to do the same.
That is the ripple effect of authenticity.
It builds a culture where people are not afraid to try, to speak up, or to be honest about what they need.
Our school has no interest in perfection.
We want honesty, humour, and heart.
That is what makes Te Noho Tahi work, it is not a performance; it is a practice.
Reflection
When I think about what kind of schools the world needs now, I think of places where both adults and children can be real.
Where laughter is as valued as achievement, and where leadership looks like listening.
A school should feel like a living community, not a machine.
That is what authenticity builds.
It turns policy into practice, hierarchy into partnership, and school into whānau.
When people are free to bring their whole selves to work and children are free to learn without fear or cost, education becomes what it was always meant to be, a shared act of hope.
Next week: Part 7 - The World We Could Build.