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Sunday, 23 August 2026

What flying a kite taught me about life

 

What Flying a Kite Taught Me About Life

I was never very good at flying kites. There was the ritual of preparing the thread, patiently untangling knots, waiting for the right breeze, coaxing the kite into the sky, and then watching two kites dance, circle and tangle high above us, each trying to outwit the other. It was all rather hit and miss. I don't remember winning many kite battles. What I do remember is the excitement, the shouts from neighbouring rooftops, and that sinking feeling as my kite drifted away.

Only years later did I realise that flying a kite had taught me something about life.

A kite doesn't soar because someone holds the string tightly. It flies because the person below knows when to pull, when to ease, and when to trust the wind.

I've come to believe that people are much the same.

As parents, partners, teachers, friends or leaders, we often think that holding on tighter is the best way to protect those we care about. But people flourish when they are trusted.

Hold on too tightly and you hold people back. Let go completely and the connection is lost.

The real skill lies in staying connected while giving others the freedom to find their own way.

Like flying a kite, the secret isn't in holding on tighter. It's in knowing when to loosen the string.

Funny how some of life's biggest lessons arrive on the end of a piece of string... and stay with us long after the kite has disappeared from the sky.

Senior citizens

 When Do We Actually Become Senior Citizens?


There are two or three pews in our church reserved for senior citizens, particularly the elderly or infirm. Our church is more often than not packed, with people standing at the back or looking for somewhere to sit, yet these particular pews can remain empty for quite some time.


Then, halfway through the service, someone of almost any age will quietly walk in and occupy one of them. Nobody says a word.


My wife and I have always avoided these seats. We have felt that if someone older or someone who genuinely needed them came along, those seats should be available. But perhaps there is a flaw in that thinking. If everyone who qualifies thinks the same way, the seats could remain empty when someone actually needs them.


On one occasion, however, there wasn't much space, so we reluctantly sat in one of the reserved pews. We had barely settled down when an over-officious usher appeared and politely told us that those seats were reserved for senior citizens.


I looked at her and asked, "What age?"


She smiled.


It was a lovely, polite smile, but it also said quite clearly, Sir, let us not go there.


She suggested that we move to the next row.


We did.


I couldn't help smiling afterwards because there is something rather amusing about growing older.


Most of us don't mind getting older. What we don't particularly like is being treated as old.


You can be 60, 70 or even 80 and still feel perfectly young. You can travel, work, drive, climb stairs, go to the gym and carry on with life. In your own mind, you are still the same person you have always been.


Then someone points you towards a special seat for "senior citizens" and, suddenly, you wonder when exactly you acquired the label.


Perhaps that is the problem. The people who qualify don't necessarily want to announce the fact.


I have decided I am past worrying about it.


I am a senior citizen. I may not be infirm, but I am certainly not going to argue with my birth certificate.


Perhaps the sensible thing is simply to accept growing older for what it is. We can remain active, enjoy life, laugh at ourselves and accept a little consideration when we need it.


Growing older is inevitable. Looking older, however, is something we can still negotiate.


So the next time I see those reserved pews empty, I may just walk over and sit down.


And if the usher appears again with that same polite smile, I think I will smile back and say, "This time, I think I qualify."


After all, there has to be some advantage to getting older.


Thursday, 20 August 2026

Self confidence

 

Perhaps You Are More Capable Than You Think

Confidence isn't about always being right. It is about trusting yourself enough to speak, decide and sometimes get it wrong.

I sometimes think that a surprisingly large number of people lack self-confidence.

I know I did when I was growing up.

I was never one of the bigger or stronger boys. I was particularly good at English and public speaking, but I never saw myself as someone who really excelled. I wasn't a top sportsman, and I wasn't at the top of the class academically either. In many ways, I was just an ordinary boy.

We weren't rich by any means, and I was being brought up by a single parent. I wasn't particularly ambitious and, for quite a long time, I had no real idea what I wanted to do with my life.

Looking back, I can see how those things affected the way I saw myself. None of them, individually, was particularly important, but taken together, they made me question myself.

Perhaps that is how a lack of confidence develops. Not necessarily because someone tells you that you aren't good enough, but because you gradually start believing it yourself.

You would think that as we get older, those feelings would disappear, but they don't always. They simply become less obvious.

But I think it is important to say what self-confidence isn't. It isn't ego or arrogance, and it certainly isn't the need to prove that you are better than everyone else. In fact, genuine self-confidence is almost the opposite. It is being comfortable enough with yourself that you don't constantly need the approval of others.

Now, as a leader, I can often spot a lack of confidence quite quickly in others.

You meet someone who is clearly intelligent. They know their subject, they have good judgement and they may even be better at something than many of the people around them. And yet they don't seem to believe it themselves.

They hesitate, second-guess themselves and hold back when they should be putting themselves forward. Sometimes it is simply a fear of making a mistake.

I have come across people who would rather delay a decision than risk making the wrong one. They look for more information, more reassurance or someone else to make the call.

Of course, there is nothing wrong with wanting to get things right. But when the fear of being wrong becomes greater than the confidence to make a judgement, it can hold us back.

I have probably noticed this most at work.

How many times have we sat in a meeting and watched someone remain silent even though they probably had the solution? They may have the best idea in the room, or even know that the discussion is heading in the wrong direction, but they don't say anything because they don't want to go against the majority.

There is actually a phrase for this — the spiral of silence.

You know what you think. You may even believe you are right. But you assume that everyone else thinks differently, and the fear of being the person who stands apart is enough to keep you quiet.

We see it in classrooms, staffrooms, meetings, boardrooms and leadership teams. Sometimes the person with the best idea in the room isn't the person who speaks, while the person who speaks with the greatest confidence isn't necessarily the person who knows the most.

Confidence and competence don't always arrive together.

That matters enormously in leadership.

A leader who lacks confidence may hesitate when a decision needs to be made. They may look for reassurance, avoid difficult conversations or be too easily influenced by the strongest voice in the room.

Leadership becomes decisive when a leader has confidence in their own judgement. That doesn't mean always getting it right. It means being prepared to make the best decision you can with the information you have, knowing that sometimes you will get it wrong.

And that is where I think self-assurance comes in.

Self-assurance isn't arrogance, and it isn't believing that you are always right or that you know more than everyone else. It is being comfortable enough with yourself and your judgement to say, “I don't know,” or “I may be wrong,” or “That's a good point. I hadn't thought of it that way.”

Confidence also grows with experience. You make a decision and learn to live with the outcome, make a mistake and discover that life goes on, or take on something you weren't sure you could do and find that you managed it. Slowly, you begin to trust yourself.

But sometimes we need someone else to help us get there: a teacher who believes in a child, a parent who encourages them, a colleague who says, “I think you should say something,” or a leader who gives someone an opportunity before they are convinced they are ready.

I wonder how many people have had the ability, the ideas and the potential to do something really well, but never quite found the confidence to show it.

And perhaps this is one of the less obvious responsibilities of leadership. It isn't simply about making decisions, setting direction and holding people accountable. It is also about creating an environment where people feel comfortable enough to question, challenge and disagree.

A good leader shouldn't just have confidence.

They should give confidence to others.

Because somewhere in the room there may be someone who has the answer, someone who sees something the rest of us have missed, or someone with an idea that could make a real difference. If they don't have the confidence to say it, we may never know.

How often have you held yourself back, not because you weren't capable, but because you weren't quite confident enough to believe you were?

Perhaps, looking back, I understand something about that boy I once was that I didn't understand then.

Confidence isn't about thinking you are better than everyone else. It is simply about not assuming that everyone else is better than you.

And perhaps self-assurance comes from learning that you don't have to get everything right to trust your own judgement.

Sometimes you have to make the call.

And then have the confidence to live with it.

Wednesday, 19 August 2026

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

 

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

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.