Recently, I’ve found myself reflecting on what success looks like in my role.
It’s not a new question. In fact, it’s one I’ve returned to throughout much of my career.
As a Chief Operating Officer, much of my work happens behind the scenes. Unlike my teaching colleagues, there isn’t an obvious classroom, lesson or student outcome that demonstrates the impact of what I do. Many days are filled with meetings, contract discussions, budgets, governance issues, risk management and problem solving. At the end of those days, it can be difficult to point to something tangible and say, “that’s what I achieved today.”
Perhaps that feeling is amplified because I am the only non-teaching member of the leadership team. Whilst I know operational leadership plays a crucial role in a school’s success, there are still times when I question whether my contribution is as visible as others’.
Over time, however, I’ve come to realise that visibility and impact are not the same thing.
The Work Nobody Sees
When people think about successful schools, they quite rightly focus on teaching and learning. That’s what schools exist for.
What often goes unseen is everything that enables those outcomes to happen.
~ The financial decisions that ensure resources are available where they are needed most.
~ The governance structures that provide challenge and accountability.
~ The systems that protect staff and students.
~ The technology that supports learning.
~ The countless operational decisions that keep a complex organisation functioning day after day.
Most of this work receives little attention when it is done well. In fact, that’s usually a sign that it is working exactly as it should.
A Lesson from a PFI School
I was reminded of this recently whilst working on an estates issue.
As a PFI school, our relationship with the building is often very different from that of other schools. Projects that might appear straightforward, such as relocating an exams office to anyone floor, actually involve detailed contractual discussions, questions about responsibilities, negotiations over funding and agreement between multiple stakeholders before any progress can be made.
This particular issue occupied a significant amount of my time over many months. There were site meetings with contractors, discussions with the PFI provider, negotiations around contractual obligations, reports for leaders, and more emails than I care to remember.
Progress was often frustratingly slow.
Eventually, we secured a positive outcome.
There was no announcement. No celebration. No obvious moment that would signal success to the wider school community.
Most staff and students will never know how much work sat behind it.
What they will experience, however, is a school that continues to operate effectively. Risks have been reduced, future issues are less likely to arise and colleagues can focus on teaching rather than worrying about the condition of the environment around them.
Reflecting on that experience, I realised that this is often what operational leadership looks like. Success is not always about creating something new or highly visible. Sometimes it is about solving problems before they become bigger problems, or quietly removing barriers so that others can do their best work.
Rethinking Success
Earlier in my career, I tended to measure success through outputs.
~ What had I completed?
~ What had I delivered?
~ What had changed?
Those questions still matter, but increasingly I find myself thinking about outcomes instead.
~ Have we reduced risk?
~ Have we strengthened the organisation?
~ Have we created capacity for others to succeed?
~ Have we left things in a better position than we found them?
The answer to those questions is often yes, even when there is no obvious headline attached to the work.
Perhaps That’s the Point
If I’m honest, this is still something I wrestle with.
There are weeks when my calendar is full, difficult issues have been resolved and important decisions have been made, yet I finish the week wondering what I’ve actually achieved. When your role is largely preventative, success can be difficult to see. The absence of crisis rarely feels like an achievement, even when it is the direct result of careful planning, persistence and good decision making.
The more experienced I become, the more I realise that some of the most important things I’ve contributed to are things that nobody talks about anymore. They have become embedded, resolved or simply accepted as part of how the organisation operates.
At the time, they felt significant. Now they form part of the foundations that allow others to succeed.
I don’t think I’ll ever completely stop questioning my impact. But I am becoming more comfortable with the idea that some of the most valuable contributions happen quietly, in the background, long before anyone notices the difference they have made.
And perhaps that’s the point.
