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.

 

Getting older

 

We Are Getting Older, Yet We Are Nowhere Near Done

Getting older is inevitable. Deciding that life is over is another matter.

I wake up at 4.45 most mornings. I still have to go to work, so I can't claim it is some great exercise in discipline. But I like that time of the morning. The house is quiet, nobody wants anything from me, and my mind seems to work better before the day starts. Quite often, I do some of my best writing then.

I have spent my entire working life in education, surrounded by young people. That probably explains why I have never felt particularly old. When you spend years listening to young people talk about their ambitions, worries, music, technology and plans for the future, you cannot help remaining interested in what is going on around you.

I still work full-time. I go to the gym, travel, write, speak and drive. I love music and podcasts, and enjoy a good humorous TV series or movie. I meet friends, make plans and am working towards publishing my books.

So retirement, it seems, has somehow missed my address.

The grandchildren help too. They keep me connected to a world that changes faster than I can sometimes keep up with. Then there is Chanel, my cat, who has decided that my main responsibilities are feeding her and opening doors. She has never actually said thank you.

And my wife has been putting up with me all these years. I regard that as a considerable achievement. She may not.

I am also completely useless at anything involving carpentry, electrical work or mechanics. I can stand beside someone doing the job and look concerned. I can even offer an opinion. Actually fixing anything is beyond me.

But I have been thinking about something more serious.

When I look at people my age, I see two very different attitudes towards getting older.

Some continue to make plans. They travel, exercise, work, meet friends, read, write, listen to music and remain curious. They may complain about their knees, their backs or the price of everything, but they are still interested in life.

Others seem to have decided that their turn is over.

“It is time for the young now.”

“I've done my bit.”

“There isn't much left.”

I understand that attitude. Getting older brings losses and disappointments. Friends disappear from our lives. Health can become an issue. Some people find themselves lonely. And there are days when getting out of bed feels like a much bigger achievement than it used to.

But I think there is a danger in deciding that the best part of life is behind us.

Once we stop expecting anything from life, we can gradually stop looking for anything. We make fewer plans, go out less and become less curious. The world can slowly become smaller, and with it can come loneliness, frustration and a loss of interest in the things that once gave us pleasure.

I don't judge anyone for that. We all have difficult periods. But I do believe that attitude matters.

I am not a holy Joe. I don't pretend to have all the answers. But I do believe, and I do pray. It helps me look ahead rather than spend too much time looking backwards.

I don't often ask myself, “How old am I?”

The question I find more interesting is, “What do I still want to do?”

And there is quite a list.

There are places I want to visit, books I want to publish, music I want to hear, roads I want to drive, people I want to meet and grandchildren I want to spoil.

Maybe that is all the advice I would offer: keep something ahead of you. It doesn't have to be a world trip or a major achievement. It could be dinner with friends, a book you want to read, a new place you want to see, a morning at the gym or simply a good conversation.

Stay curious. Keep laughing. Keep meeting people. And don't be embarrassed to enjoy yourself.

I have spent a lifetime around young people, and perhaps they have taught me something without ever intending to: being young is not the only way to be enthusiastic about life.

We are getting older. There is no point pretending otherwise. But I still have plenty I want to do, and I see no reason to stop simply because the calendar keeps moving.

Tomorrow morning, I'll probably wake up at 4.45, make my own tea because I am fussy about it, and sit down to write. There will be books to work on, places to visit, music to listen to, people to meet and, somewhere along the way, a grandchild demanding something.

And there will probably be Chanel, sitting by the door, waiting for me to do what she expects me to do.

I suppose growing older is inevitable. Growing bored with life is optional.

We need fewer experts

 https://gulfnews.com/opinion/op-eds/why-we-need-fewer-experts-and-more-wise-people-1.500637153

Our strange security rituals

 Hotels, Malls, Banks — The Great Indian Security Ritual

How often have you walked into a bank and seen an ageing security guard quietly doing his duty? Or stood in a queue outside a mall, waiting to pass through a metal detector? Or driven into a hotel and watched the familiar security routine unfold around your car?

We have all seen it, experienced it and, for the most part, simply accepted it as part of everyday life.

I was recently on holiday in India and found myself wondering whether some of these familiar security rituals have become more about following a routine than actually improving protection.

Let me make one thing clear: this is not a criticism of the security personnel. Most are simply doing what they have been instructed to do. Many work long hours for modest salaries and in difficult conditions. They deserve our respect.

My question is whether the systems behind them are keeping pace with the threats they are supposed to address.

Enter almost any decent hotel with your car and luggage and the routine begins. At the gate, the guard asks you to open the bonnet and the boot — or “dicky”, as we call it in India. He peers inside both, while nobody seems particularly interested in looking inside the car itself.

Then comes the dog, wandering around the vehicle, followed by the familiar small mirror on a long pole, pushed underneath the car.

I am sure these checks have a purpose. But when the same procedure is repeated thousands of times, you cannot help wondering whether it is still effective or simply a ritual everyone has become accustomed to.

The same happens at shopping malls. You queue, reach the metal detector and the scanner beeps. Keys come out, then the phone, then the belt, until eventually you are practically empty-handed.

And I wonder: how many criminals are going to patiently stand in a queue of 40 people waiting for their turn?

To be fair, Indian airport security is a different matter altogether. At least with me, they are extremely stringent. I sometimes wonder whether they have information that I don't have. Perhaps I look dangerous. Or suspicious. Or maybe I simply have an honest face that requires further investigation!

But there is another question that troubles me far more.

What happens if a security guard actually finds something dangerous?

At a hotel or mall, if a scanner indicates something genuinely suspicious, or a guard discovers something concerning, does he know what to do next? Who does he call? Whom does he inform? Does he know how to isolate the area, alert the right people and keep others away?

These are ordinary people trying to earn a living. They may have limited education, long working hours and difficult circumstances. Yet we place them at the front line of our security systems.

Have we given them enough training to deal with the one situation we hope they never encounter?

Then there are banks, where an elderly security guard often sits at the entrance holding a rifle that sometimes looks as though it has been there since the days of fountain pens and handwritten cheques.

Again, I am not making fun of the guard. I am questioning whether the system is giving him the tools, training and support he needs.

Security is important, and the people carrying out these checks are doing a necessary and often thankless job. But systems cannot remain unchanged simply because they have always been followed.

Security procedures need to be reviewed, updated and made more intelligent. A routine that everyone knows and mechanically follows can gradually lose its effectiveness.

The people doing these jobs are clearly trying their best. But is trying your best enough to keep a place secure?

That is the real question.

The system must give them the right training, technology and information, along with a clear understanding of what to do when something genuinely goes wrong.

Because security matters too much to become a ritual.

The people may be doing their best. But is the system doing its best to keep us safe?