**Before the School Bell Breaks the Spell**

  **Before the School Bell Breaks the Spell**

### *As the summer break winds down, perhaps we should remember that children aren't the only ones wishing it would last a little longer.*

Do you remember those last few days of the summer holidays when we were at school? We looked at the calendar and wished someone would give us another week. Just a few more days of sleeping late, playing with friends, visiting grandparents and staying up without worrying about the alarm clock.

I remember that feeling. Perhaps you do too.

But here is the funny thing. Now that we are adults, perhaps we haven’t changed as much as we think.

Children may be looking at the calendar and thinking, *“I wish we had another week of holidays.”* Parents might quietly be thinking exactly the same thing.

No early morning rush. No frantic calls to get children out of bed, no searching for the missing school shoe, no hurried breakfast while someone is asking where the water bottle has gone. No traffic, no school drop-off and no trying to get everyone out of the house on time.

And perhaps there are teachers preparing to return to school who are thinking, *“You know what? Another week wouldn’t be so bad.”* They too have had a busy year. Another slow morning and a cup of coffee without looking at the clock might be welcome.

So the end of the summer break is not something only children have to adjust to. Parents and teachers are making the transition too.

When we were children, our holidays were different. We played outside, rode bicycles, met friends and somehow managed to fill an entire afternoon.

We also had holiday homework.

I can still remember the question that would eventually come from a parent: *“Have you finished your homework?”* We would say yes, promise to do it later and hope the subject disappeared.

But we also had time when nobody expected us to achieve anything. We played, talked, visited relatives, read a little and sometimes simply got bored.

Perhaps children need some of that space today too.

We have become very good at filling their time with classes, camps, sports, activities and screens. Even holidays can become surprisingly busy. A proper break from school is not wasted time. They need time with family, time to travel, make memories and simply be themselves.

The difficult part comes when that easy holiday rhythm gives way to the school routine.

Late nights become early mornings. Breakfast has to happen at a particular time. Suddenly everyone is expected to be awake and organised before the sun has properly joined the day.

We know the feeling ourselves. After a long break, returning to work isn’t always greeted with enthusiasm. We switch on the computer, see the emails waiting and wonder whether another week would have been better.

So perhaps we can give children the same understanding we give ourselves.

Bedtimes can move gradually towards normal, mornings can become a little earlier and screen time can be reduced without making the house feel like a prison.

And perhaps we can talk about school differently.

Instead of saying, *“The holidays are nearly over. Time to get serious,”* ask, *“What are you looking forward to when you go back?”*

Which friends will they see? Which teacher did they enjoy? Is there a new subject, sport or activity they are curious about?

It changes the conversation. School becomes something to look forward to.

Schools can help too. Teachers remember what the first day feels like because many of them were once the children wishing for another week.

The first few days don’t have to be an academic assault. They have travelled, visited family, played and explored. The child who went overseas has a story; so does the child who stayed in Dubai.

Let them talk, reconnect with friends and find their rhythm again.

Before long, the uniforms will be hanging by the door, the bags will be packed and the alarm clock will once again become the most unpopular member of the household.

There will be sleepy children, tired parents, forgotten books and probably a dramatic declaration of *“I don’t want to go to school.”*

And somewhere in the middle of all this, a parent will quietly think, *“I wish the holidays were another week longer.”*

A teacher might think it too.

And the child certainly will.

Perhaps that is what makes the end of the summer break universal. We grow older and change roles, but some feelings from childhood stay with us.

We may become parents and teachers, but that child is still somewhere inside us.

The school bell is coming.

But for now, there is still time.

Enjoy the holidays.

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Leaders Make Mistakes To

 

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Leaders Make Mistakes Too

Michael Guzder

Executive Vice President Education - GEMS Education | Supporting 30,000 Students Across UAE CBSE Schools | Passionate About Transforming Lives Through Education

August 19, 2026

Leadership is not about being right. It is about what you do when you are wrong.

Do leaders make mistakes? Of course they do. I certainly have.

Some of mine happened when I was very young in leadership, when enthusiasm sometimes ran ahead of experience. Others happened much later, when I should have known better. Looking back, I don't think making a mistake is necessarily the problem. The important thing is what you do when you realize you have made one.

I learnt that lesson on my very first day as a Headmaster.

I was keen to make my mark, and one of the first things I did was prepare a duty list. I moved people around, including some very senior members of staff who had been carrying out particular duties for many years, and doing them very efficiently. I thought I was giving others an opportunity and making a positive change.

What I hadn't done was ask why things had been organized that way in the first place.

There were serious repercussions. A major school function was approaching and the changes I had made could have caused the whole thing to go badly wrong. Thankfully, I heard about it in time.

I was young, new to the job and suddenly faced with the uncomfortable realization that a decision I had made could have had very serious consequences. There was no point defending it. I stepped back, accepted that I had got it wrong and put things right.

It was frightening, but it was also one of the best lessons I could have received. You don't always know what you don't know, and people who have been doing something successfully for years usually have very good reasons for doing it the way they do.

Interestingly, the very person whose responsibilities I had changed later became one of my biggest supporters. I have never forgotten that.

Many years later, I made another mistake, this time involving an email.

About 15 or 20 years ago, I wrote something intended for one person. Somehow, it went to around 150. It contained the names of people I was planning to deal with for certain reasons.

It was embarrassing, serious and, quite simply, a grave error.

I went straight to my line manager and told him what had happened. His response has stayed with me. He told me it was a genuine mistake, that these things can happen to anyone and that he knew I would sort it out. He also said he would support me because he trusted me to handle the situation fairly and responsibly.

That was important to hear. It didn't make the mistake any less serious, but it reminded me that being accountable doesn't mean being left on your own. I dealt with the people affected, apologized where I had caused hurt and did what I could to put matters right. I also looked carefully at how the mistake had happened so I could make sure it didn't happen again.

There is another kind of mistake leaders make, perhaps one of the most difficult to accept: an error of judgement.

You may be involved in appointing or promoting someone and genuinely believe you are making the right decision. Later, it becomes clear that the appointment or promotion hasn't worked. Perhaps you misread the person, overlooked something important or simply got the judgement wrong.

If you are the final decision-maker, you may not need to apologize. You made the decision in good faith and had every right to make it. But you still need to be honest enough to recognize that your judgement was wrong.

What did I miss? What should I have seen? What will I do differently next time?

Those questions are much more useful than trying to defend a decision simply because you made it.

Even with experience, mistakes don't disappear. There are still slip-ups, difficult conversations I could handle better and decisions that, with hindsight, I might make differently. What changes is my attitude towards them.

I am less concerned about appearing infallible and more concerned about getting things right.

Perhaps that is because I no longer see leadership as being about having all the answers. It is about making the best decisions you can with the information you have, listening to others and having the honesty to recognize when you have got something wrong.

And there is an important difference between accepting that mistakes are human and using that as an excuse for repeating them. We will all get things wrong. But if the same mistake keeps happening, something needs to change.

Some of my earliest mistakes were among my best teachers. They taught me to listen before changing things, to respect experience, to think more carefully about judgement and, when necessary, to say sorry.

After many years in leadership, I have come to believe that you don't lose authority by admitting you are wrong. If anything, being honest about your mistakes, dealing with them fairly and learning from them can earn you something far more important than the appearance of always being right: the trust of the people you lead.

Schools Need Technology. But They Also Need More Time

 

Schools Need Technology. But They Also Need More Time

Using technology wisely, can give valuable time back.

I have spent most of my working life in education and, when I think back to when I was at school, it is striking how much has changed. That was more than half a century ago, when there were no computers in our classrooms, no smartboards, learning platforms or artificial intelligence. If we wanted to find something out, we looked in a book. If we wanted to speak to a teacher, we waited for the opportunity. But I wouldn't say schools were better or worse then. They were simply different, because the world they were preparing children for was different.

Today's schools are working with children growing up in a world that is changing at an extraordinary speed. Technology, social media and artificial intelligence are transforming the way we live and work, while schools are also supporting children with increasingly diverse needs and placing greater emphasis on wellbeing, safeguarding, inclusion and individual support. Technology therefore has an important place in education, and I believe we should embrace it wholeheartedly . Used well, it can make information more accessible, support assessment and planning, identify patterns in student performance, reduce duplication and give educators tools that were unimaginable when I was starting out in education.

But there is another part of education where technology can assist, while human judgement and relationships remain essential: the human relationship at the heart of education.

A system may tell us that a student's grades have fallen. It may show that attendance has changed or that work is no longer being submitted. Those are valuable pieces of information, but they are only the beginning of the conversation. Why has the student's performance changed? Is the child struggling with confidence? Is learning becoming difficult? Is something happening socially that we don't know about? Is it something to do with the family ?

A good teacher may notice something that never appears on a dashboard — a child who has become unusually quiet, a student who has stopped making eye contact or someone who is suddenly spending more time alone. Sometimes it is simply a teacher's instinct that says, “Something isn't quite right.”

And that is where time becomes so important.

Across our schools, counsellors, special educators, inclusion specialists and teachers are doing an extraordinary amount of work  to support children who need additional help. I have seen the tremendous care, patience and expertise that goes into supporting students who may be struggling with their studies, finding learning difficult, lacking confidence, feeling anxious or simply needing someone to understand them. Here in the UAE, there is a strong commitment to supporting students with different needs, and much of this work happens quietly and without much recognition.

Yet even the most dedicated professionals face a very practical constraint: there are only so many hours in a school day. Sometimes the person supporting a child knows exactly what they would like to do next — another conversation, another strategy, or simply more time to sit and listen. Sometimes, despite everyone's best intentions, there simply isn't enough time.

Perhaps this is where technology can make one of its most valuable contributions. Not by replacing teachers, counsellors, special educators or inclusion specialists, but by reducing some of the routine work around them. If technology can simplify a process, reduce duplication or save a teacher an hour of routine work, perhaps the greatest benefit is not finding another task to fill that hour. Perhaps it is giving some of that time back — to plan, to think, to talk to a child or simply to notice something that might otherwise be missed.

And perhaps there is one question that should sit above every new initiative, every new system and every new piece of technology we introduce into education:

“Will this benefit the child?”

That, ultimately, should be our test. Not whether something is fashionable or technologically impressive, and not simply whether it makes our lives more efficient, but whether, in some meaningful way, it improves the experience, learning, wellbeing or opportunities of the child.

Education is full of competing demands, and most of them exist for very good reasons. Teachers need information, leaders need to understand what is happening in their schools, parents need communication, students need support and schools need to be accountable. Technology can help with many of these things. But we should always remember what all of this is ultimately about: the child.

Children need good teaching, of course, but they also need time to read, to think, to make mistakes, to ask questions, to develop confidence and, occasionally, simply to be bored. Teachers need time too — to prepare properly, to reflect, to talk to colleagues and, perhaps most importantly, to know the children in front of them.

Because some of the most important moments in a school will never appear on a dashboard. They happen when a teacher notices that something is wrong, when a conversation in a corridor gives a child the confidence to keep going, when a student finally finds the courage to put up a hand, or when a child is told at exactly the right moment, “I believe you can do this.”

Technology can help us enormously. It can make education more efficient, more informed and, if used well, more personalized.

 But perhaps its greatest value should not be measured simply by how much more it enables us to do. Perhaps it should also be measured by how much time it gives back to the people who matter most in education — the teachers and the children.

Because in education, time isn't just a resource. It is an opportunity to make a difference.