The Gold Standard of Leadership

Hannah Carter

Hannah Carter, author of The Honest Headteacher, explains what educational leadership needs to learn from its role models.

I recently started a new role, and like many people do when they’re preparing to step into something new, I had a bit of a clear-out. Buried at the bottom of an old file I found a small, faded post-it note with a short message and a name that stopped me in my tracks.

Sir Dexter Hutt.

If you were around in education in the early 2000s, particularly in the Midlands, that name might stir something in you too. At the very start of my career, he mentored my school through a period of rapid change. He was a name people whispered with respect.

Male. Authoritative. Confident.

He spoke about the Sigmoid Curve like it was gospel. He talked about pace, expectation, strategy, and system-wide thinking. And I was hooked.

He wasn’t just someone who spoke about change. He made it happen. He led schools to real, tangible improvement and carried himself with a certainty that felt magnetic. In a world that often felt chaotic, he was sure. When he spoke, people listened. He made leadership feel sharp and powerful.

And at the time, that felt like exactly what we needed. And in many ways, it was.

He changed my school. He made us braver. He made us expect more from ourselves and our students. And his legacy? You could feel it in the raised standards, the focused staff meetings, the sharper sense of purpose. I owe him a lot. That post-it note wasn’t just a message. It was a marker in my professional life.

But here’s the honest truth: the longer I’ve stayed in this profession, the more I’ve realised that what we once called the gold standard of leadership hasn’t moved. And in many ways, it needs to.

Because what happens when your role models stop evolving?

What happens when the strong voices you once looked up to don’t make space for others?

What happens when those Sigmoid Curves become static lines because the people who taught you about change don’t change themselves?

Leadership That Commands or Leadership That Connects?

Sir Dexter was exactly the kind of leader the system needed at the time. Charismatic. Bold. Systems-driven. But when I look around now, especially as a headteacher myself, I wonder how many people are still performing his playbook. Still leading with that same brand of confidence, command, and control.

The problem is, the landscape has shifted. The children are different. The communities are different. The challenges are layered, intersectional, and more complex than ever. The job of leadership has become more human than hierarchical. And yet, so many leaders are stuck in a style that no longer serves.

Too many schools are still being led by people who think presence means power. Who believe that being decisive means never showing doubt. Who see visibility as something you perform at the gates but never carry into the staffroom. Who think challenge is more important than care.

I know this because I’ve worked in those schools. And I’ve been that leader too. For a while, I thought that’s what being strong looked like. I thought calm meant quiet. I thought strategy had to mean distance. I thought you couldn’t show softness and still be taken seriously.

I had to unlearn that. And that’s taken longer than I’d like to admit.

Where Are the Role Models Who Reflect the Reality of Leadership Today?

The truth is, I don’t want to become the kind of leader who mentors others into an outdated model. I want to be the kind of role model who makes space for someone else’s leadership to look different from mine. I want to mentor people who are better than me. Braver. Softer. More questioning. More rooted in justice and care than in systems and scorecards.

And yet, I still sit in rooms where the loudest voices are the ones we heard twenty years ago. The same panels. The same metaphors. The same suits. We still talk about standards, outcomes, and raising the bar as if there isn’t a child sitting under it, being quietly crushed.

I rarely see leaders stand on stages and talk about what it’s like to feel exhausted from carrying your team emotionally. To lead through loss. To support families navigating trauma. To hold the line for staff when they have nothing left in the tank. To not just meet targets, but hold hearts.

Where are the leaders talking honestly about those things?

Where are the Dexter Hutts of today who speak with confidence and compassion?

Where are the role models who understand that in 2025, leadership is not about standing at the front with a plan?

It’s about sitting in the discomfort with your team and saying, “I don’t know the answer, but I’m here.”

We Cannot Lead Schools the Way We Did Twenty Years Ago

This profession has never been harder. The stakes have never been higher. And our role models have never mattered more. Which means we cannot afford to keep pointing people towards leadership models that haven’t evolved.

Because when we keep modelling command and compliance, we breed fear.

When we only reward confidence, we silence caution and reflection.

When we only promote people who speak with certainty, we miss the wisdom of those who speak with care.

The best leaders I know are not always the most charismatic. They are the ones who know their people. Who understand context. Who are willing to listen, even when the answers are messy. Who lead with curiosity, not ego.

They are often women. Often people of colour. Often people from SEND backgrounds. Often people who have come through the system differently. And so often, they are not the ones being handed the mic.

That has to change.

Leadership Is Not a Performance. It’s a Responsibility.

The longer I lead, the more I realise that the best leadership isn’t always visible. It happens in corridors. In quiet moments with a child. In a check-in at the photocopier. In safeguarding meetings that nobody claps for.

It is not about heroic gestures or public declarations. It is about consistent presence. Everyday decisions. Leading when no one is watching.

I think back to that post-it note from Dexter Hutt. I wonder what he would make of the profession now. I wonder if he would have shifted his thinking. I hope he would.

I hope he would see that authority no longer carries the same weight as authenticity.

That confidence without connection is hollow.

That vision without vulnerability is unsustainable.

That schools need leaders who understand that strength looks like community, not control.

The Legacy We Leave Behind

We all leave a mark in this profession. Whether we intend to or not. The words we say in staff meetings. The choices we make under pressure. The things we celebrate. The things we ignore. That is our legacy.

The post-it note reminded me of the legacy Dexter left. And it also reminded me to check my own.

Because someone, one day, will clear out a drawer and find a note from me. A policy I wrote. A decision I made. A conversation I had when they were at the start of their career. And they will decide whether I helped them become a better leader or a more cautious one. A more human one or a more hardened one.

That is not a responsibility I take lightly.

We are all someone’s role model. Whether we mean to be or not.

So we have to keep asking ourselves the question.

Are we leading in a way that honours the complexity of the profession today?

Are we building schools that nurture leadership in others?

Are we evolving?

Or are we still reading from a script that no longer fits the stage we’re standing on?

Time to Redefine the Gold Standard

Dexter Hutt will always be part of my story. He was the right mentor at the right time. But I do not want to spend the next ten years trying to become him. I want to become the kind of leader I needed later. When the bravado wore off. When life got complicated. When leading meant more than making a plan. When it meant showing up even when I was not sure I could.

The gold standard of leadership needs redefining.

It is no longer about who speaks the loudest or moves the fastest.

It is about who listens the longest. Who stays when things are tough. Who makes the job feel human again.

That is the kind of leader I want to be.

That is the kind of role model our profession needs.

And that is the kind of post-it note I hope someone finds one day with my name on it.

This article serves as both a reflection on where we’ve been in education leadership and a call to action for where we need to go. It’s time to move beyond outdated models and build a new standard—one that balances authenticity with authority, vision with vulnerability, and systems with compassion.

As educators, we don’t just shape students; we shape the future of our profession. And the best way to do that is by evolving and making space for leadership that connects, understands, and moves with the times.

You can read more of Hannah’s articles here.

You can order Hannah’s new book, The Honest Headteacher, on Amazon.