Why schools need to address anti-LGBT bullying
Written by Eleanor Formby
Eleanor Formby (she/her) is Professor of Sociology and Youth Studies at Sheffield Hallam University, UK. She has 25 years’ experience in (predominantly qualitative) social research and evaluation, and for nearly 20 years her work has focussed on the life experiences of LGBT+ people. Eleanor has written numerous articles in these areas and is the author of Exploring LGBT spaces and communities.
Next month will see Anti-Bullying Week (November 10-14), and Sheffield Hallam University research highlights that lesbian, gay, bisexual and trans (LGBT) young people are still at risk of being bullied at school.
The study is the largest of its kind ever conducted in England, with over 61,000 pupils and staff from 853 schools taking part. It focused specifically on homophobic, biphobic and transphobic (HBT) bullying—i.e. that directed at people because of their actual or assumed sexual or gender identity—and on LGBT inclusion in schools.
It’s often assumed that ‘progress’—thinking particularly about LGBT rights—is a steady march forward, and to be fair, the past 25 years have seen significant changes for LGBT people in the UK. In 2015, the UK was ranked number one on the ILGA-Europe rainbow map, which rates 49 European countries on the basis of laws and policies that directly impact on LGBT people’s human rights. Around the same time, the UK government invested over £6 million in efforts to prevent and respond to HBT bullying in schools, which included our research. The year our research finished, the Government announced that relationships and sex education (RSE) would become compulsory in English secondary schools—and that it should include LGBT content. For a while, there was reason to feel cautiously optimistic.
But things began to change.
Despite commissioning our research, the Conservative government delayed releasing the findings for five years—an unprecedented move. The study was only published after a change in government.
During this period, rhetoric from the government became increasingly hostile, particularly towards trans people. In April 2025, a high-profile supreme court ruling on gender was followed by a controversial ‘interim update’ from the Equality and Human Rights Commission. In the 2025 ILGA-Europe rainbow map the UK dropped to 22nd place—we’re now the second worst country for LGBT-related laws in Western Europe and Scandinavia.
Recently the government has also revised its guidance on RSE, with reduced references to trans people (just once in a subheading). It explicitly states that schools “should not teach as fact that all people have a gender identity”, and “should avoid materials that… encourage pupils to question their gender”. This language echoes Section 28—the infamous law that, until 2003, banned local authorities from “promoting homosexuality” and prevented schools from teaching the “acceptability of homosexuality”.
Against this backdrop, a new book demonstrates that HBT (homophobic, biphobic and transphobic) bullying is still happening—but also that schools can make a difference.
Our findings show that many schools respond to bullying after it happens, rather than trying to prevent it in the first place. In primary schools, efforts often focus on educating children about inappropriate language. Fewer schools are embedding HBT bullying prevention within everyday teaching, or in visible displays in school.
Where LGBT inclusion is happening, it often takes place in assemblies, or sometimes in secondary schools during PSHE (personal, social, health and economic education) lessons, or in ‘drop-down days’ when normal lessons are suspended. In some primary schools, specific books are used.
There are also barriers, for example a lack of time and staff capacity available in schools, and a lack of funding to invest in resources, facilities or training to help do this work well. Some staff don’t feel supported by school leadership. Others worry about complaints from parents or uncertainty about what’s ‘age appropriate’. In the current context, these concerns and associated lack of confidence are likely to grow.
But when schools get it right, there is real impact, for instance LGBT pupils—and those with LGBT family members—feel safer and more understood. Others feel more able to ask questions about issues that confuse or concern them.
This is why it’s so concerning that the UK seems to be moving backwards. Instead of helping schools create more inclusive environments, recent guidance—and arguably the suppression of important research—risk making things worse for LGBT young people, and those with LGBT family members. Teachers are left uncertain about what they’re allowed to say or teach, and pupils may feel more isolated.
It’s difficult to understand why any government would risk children and young people’s wellbeing in this way.
As we prepare to mark Anti-Bullying Week, it’s important to remember that (to borrow from previous policy, seemingly long-forgotten) every child matters—and deserves to feel safe and included, so schools need to address anti-LGBT bullying. To make that a reality, we need to support schools—not leave them uncertain or under-resourced.
Rethinking Normality in Uncertain Times
Written by Rachida Dahman
Rachida Dahman is an international educator, a language and literature teacher, and an educational innovator. She started her career in Germany as a teacher trainer advocating the importance of relationships above academics. She then moved to Luxembourg where she teaches German language and literature classes to middle and high school students. She is an award-winning poet, co-author of the best-selling book, ATLAS DER ENTSCHEIDER Entscheiden wie die Profis- Dynamik, Komplexität und Stress meistern.
In the unique context of international schools, where educators and students navigate diverse cultures, languages, and constantly shifting global realities, the idea of “normality” becomes especially complex and fluid. Normality is a cultural construct, constantly reinforced by politics, media, and rituals, not a natural state that we are pulled out of and then simply fall back into once circumstances allow. I was recently asked how, in the midst of today’s wars and crises, one can possibly “restore normality” and how teachers, who are confronted with this longing for stability every day, can take such a demand seriously.
What we call normality in everyday life and leisure is itself an artifact. Politics, talk shows, and public rituals generate their own images of normality. Here lies the danger of what might be called a ”normalization conservatism”: a desire to return to an imagined state of stability. Yet normality cannot be simply retrieved. It is manufactured with all the means of artifice.
And so the real problem shifts. The issue is not the absence of normality, but the attempt to reproduce it artificially. This attempt is carried by a strange mixture of fear and arrogance: fear of the unpredictability of the present and arrogance in believing that politics, media, or public speech could create a truly stable foundation. The result is an echo of rituals, slogans, and symbols that produce the appearance of security, without offering real orientation.
What often goes unnoticed is that tensions persist even beneath these efforts. In education, for example, teachers may feel the impulse to fit students into neat frameworks, an attempt to create order and stability. But such frameworks can quickly become another burden of responsibility, placing conformity above growth. If we give in to this impulse too often, we risk reaching a dead end, both our own creativity and that of our students may be abruptly set aside when the next societal or political storm arrives.
Normality, then, is not a return but always a creation. It does not emerge from artifacts, from the decorative gestures of politics, or from the ritualized dramaturgy of talk shows. It arises in the concrete ways we speak with one another, work together, and share responsibility. As a teacher, this means I cannot give my students normality. But I can create spaces where openness, uncertainty, and incompleteness have a place. Precisely because we are sometimes surrounded by fear and arrogance, we must learn that normality does not grow out of incantation, it grows out of practice.
- Specific classroom strategies that create space for uncertainty, agency, or open-ended outcomes.
The royal road to practice lies in learning to hold uncertainties, to walk through them with students, and to live them rather than escape them. This requires a healthy rhythm between individual and group work, staying with themes long enough for them to unfold, and deliberately extending the passages of our interactions. Such practices are not simply pedagogical choices, they are acts of resilience.
Again and again, students emerge in our classrooms who appear to falter, whose productivity declines, or who withdraw across different subjects. Dominant opinion often interprets this as laziness, distraction, or failure. Yet what if such moments are signals, pointing to something deeper, a crisis of orientation, a struggle with culture, or an unresolved question of identity? Many students’ identities are inseparable from their artistic identity. The way they make sense of the world is through creative exploration, improvisation, or resistance to rigid forms. To dismiss their “lostness” is to miss the chance to witness identity in the making.
This is especially visible in international classrooms, where cultural displacement and multilingual realities amplify the experience of being “lost.” Students navigate between home and host cultures, between different languages, and between competing expectations of success. Their sense of orientation may collapse under these pressures. But often, it is precisely in their artistic or non-linear responses in music, storytelling, visual projects, or collaborative improvisation that they begin to negotiate belonging and articulate identity. Teachers who recognize this see disengagement not as absence, but as the raw material of presence.
Practical strategies for teachers and school leaders:
- Invite multiple modes of response. Allow students to express their understanding not only in writing or tests, but through drawing, movement, dialogue, or digital creation.
- Stay with the “lost” moment. Instead of rushing to correct or redirect, ask reflective questions: What feels unclear? How does this connect to your experience? This validates disorientation as part of learning.
- Normalize cultural reflection. When productivity drops, explore whether it relates to questions of belonging or cultural dissonance. Invite students to connect class themes with their lived realities.
- Value artistic identities. Encourage students who process through music, art, or performance to bring those forms into academic spaces. In doing so, schools acknowledge that intellectual and artistic identities are often inseparable.
- Hold open-ended outcomes. Frame tasks where the goal is not a single right answer, but exploration and meaning-making. This helps students see “lostness” as an entry point into dialogue, not as failure.
For we and our students are no longer confronted merely with crises but, in some cases, with their full collapse, coming at us in ever shorter intervals. This is why education cannot content itself with rituals of stability or the repetition of normality. To face collapse together means cultivating classrooms where uncertainty is not feared but explored, where trust outweighs control, and where collaboration becomes stronger than competition. Schools that dare to do this resist the conspiracy of appearances make visible a different kind of strength: not the fragile stability of order imposed, but the durable stability that grows when responsibility is shared, when openness is lived, and when the courage to learn is greater than the fear of loss.
2. Examples of school policies or leadership decisions that actively disrupt traditional norms in service of deeper collaboration and equity.
School leaders must learn to operate in settings that are far from a neatly swept house. Crises bring with them heightened psychological reactions, and when class sizes are too large, these reactions are often funneled into a vacuum, where learning, creativity, and engagement wither. Smaller classes are therefore a crucial condition for sustaining real interaction and meaningful reflection.
In such an environment, leaders do not impose superficial order; they cultivate spaces where uncertainty can be navigated, where students’ emotional and cognitive responses are recognized, and where teachers and leaders alike learn to stay with complexity rather than erase it. It is precisely this tension between unpredictability and deliberate guidance that allows classrooms and schools to become laboratories for resilience, collaboration, and shared responsibility.
3. Illustrations of how collaboration with other schools or nontraditional partners have tangibly reshaped practice, mindset, or outcomes.
Partnering with neighboring schools to exchange teaching resources, working with local NGOs or universities to ground projects in real-world issues, and engaging with artists, entrepreneurs, or community leaders can dramatically expand what counts as educational expertise. But these partnerships are not only about content or skill-sharing: they are spaces to gather experience, to encounter moments where emotions surface, and to practice navigating uncertainty together.
In the face of unprecedented crises that often bring destruction and disorder, such collaborations create rare opportunities to learn resilience, empathy, and adaptive problem-solving. By intentionally engaging in these exchanges, educators and students alike confront challenges that cannot be fully simulated in traditional classrooms. They experience firsthand how to act, respond, and reflect when circumstances are unpredictable, complex, and emotionally charged.
4. Practical alternatives to standard rituals, such as how grading might be approached differently, or how assemblies can be reimagined to reflect openness and inclusivity.
Many teachers experience a chill down their spine when so-called assemblies run like clockwork, sanitized and rigid, and disconnected from the lived realities of students. This subversive view of rituals challenges the assumption that standard assemblies and classroom routines are neutral or harmless. In fact, such rituals can produce psychological strain, particularly when they clash with students’ attention spans, motivation, or digital habits. Traditional timetables and fixed hours are not merely organizational tools, they are deeply pedagogical structures; if they do not fit the learners, the potential for growth collapses.
In response, assessment and classroom practices must be reimagined. Exams and grading are no longer merely measures of performance, but opportunities to engage students in democratic processes, critical reflection, and the creation of meaning. Flexible, collaborative settings allow learners to grapple with texts, ideas, and questions in ways that cultivate agency and resilience. Assemblies, too, can be transformed into forums where students and staff co-construct agendas, share inquiries, and participate in discussions that matter, fostering inclusion and shared responsibility.
Importantly, this approach integrates the realities of crises overload, digital distractions, and emotional stress directly into the design of teaching and ritual. By doing so, schools create spaces that do not simply simulate “normality,” but actively cultivate engagement, critical thinking, and emotional competence, even amidst disruption.
I have come to see that what often presents itself as normality is a kind of conspiracy: a fragile arrangement of fear and arrogance that pretends to provide stability while suppressing creativity, trust, and resilience. Observing how leadership constrained by competition and territoriality can limit possibilities, I realized that ideas flourish only when shared openly. This insight became a compass; true leadership requires courage, openness, and collaboration beyond conventional boundaries. In practice, this means designing lessons with open-ended outcomes, rethinking rituals like grading and assemblies, giving students real agency, and creating spaces for reflection and shared responsibility. Normality is not a return to order it is a creation, emerging from daily practices of trust, courage, and collaboration. And so the question is: in times of crisis, do we cling to artificial rituals of stability, or do we dare to create spaces where something genuinely new can emerge?
How Can Educators Support DEI Efforts Amidst Budget Cuts?
Written by Eleanor Hecks
Eleanor Hecks is a writer who is passionate about helping businesses create inclusive and diverse spaces. She serves as the Editor in Chief of Designerly Magazine.
As education faces yet another round of budget cuts, leaders must determine where to cut back without sacrificing their ongoing diversity, equity and inclusion (DEI) efforts. After years of economising, they have few options. Is it even possible?
How Budget Cuts Will Impact UK Schools
Research from Stop School Cuts estimates the £630 million cut to education funding next year will be the equivalent of 12,400 school staff’s salaries, including 6,700 support staff and 5,700 teachers. The campaign projects that 92% of secondary schools and 75% of primary schools will be forced to cut staff. In England, overall per-pupil funding will drop to the lowest level in 15 years.
Educational institutions have been experiencing compounding financial pressure for nearly two decades — they cannot continue absorbing costs. Industry experts agree, concerned that the latest round of cutbacks will be burdensome.
Julie McCulloch — the senior director of strategy, policy and professional development at the Association of School and College Leaders — says schools have done an excellent job of minimising the impact on students. However, they are nearing what she calls a “death by a thousand cuts.” As they face yet another budget cut, many wonder whether a solution exists.
Can Educators Support DEI Amidst Cuts?
Educational institutions struggling to manage funds amidst the tuition fee freeze and budget cuts will likely need to economise. Typically, eliminating DEI programs would not be the first approach that comes to mind due to the vast improvements DEI initiatives bring — namely, surveys show that nearly 80% of those who make DEI investments see internal improvements to company culture. However, they can only offset cutbacks if they make major financial changes equivalent to 12,400 school staff’s salaries.
With DEI becoming increasingly divisive, some have called for removing so-called “DEI hires.” Others have moved to defund institutions related to or containing elements of DEI. Although the U.S. does not fund universities in the United Kingdom, some have offset cutbacks by sourcing funds from overseas agencies.
While educational leaders have faced pressure to distance themselves from DEI, they have already spent precious time, money and energy on these efforts. Even unintentionally backpedalling now would be a waste of resources. Instead, they should prioritise supporting diversity and inclusion when identifying areas to scale back.
Strategies for Supporting DEI in Education
Educators can continue to support DEI efforts despite budget cuts in several ways.
Establish Staff Performance Benchmarks
With performance data, they can identify areas of opportunity, enabling them to make staffing and scheduling decisions. Chances are, they have a key growth area they could improve.
For instance, while 75% of working adults consider teamwork and collaboration essential workplace skills, 39% believe their employers don’t facilitate cooperation enough. Benchmarking internally and against other schools in similar circumstances will help institutions identify strategies to optimise diversity and inclusion without increasing spending.
Use an Approved Framework Agreement
Framework agreements approved by the Department for Education can help professionals source goods and services quickly and cheaply. Instead of spending time getting quotes and verifying compliance, they can select pre-vetted vendors that may already have a cost-effective pricing structure in place.
Engage in Strategic Workforce Planning
Decision-makers should reduce support staff and teaching assistants to retain skilled teachers. No leader wants to be in this position, but making tough decisions may be necessary for the greater good. They can work with other state-funded schools to find employment opportunities for those they let go.
The Society for Human Resource Management states hiring one employee costs nearly £4,000 on average because the organisation must spend money advertising the job and onboarding the new hire. Relying on a network can reduce expenses while keeping professionals in the workforce.
Reduce Non-staff Spend With Resource Management
Education experts have successfully reduced non-staff spending, so this strategy is sound. They saved around £1.1 billion from 2015 to 2020. Without this strategy, spending would have risen by an estimated £600 million. They may only have a few notches left, but can still tighten their belts, so to speak.
Educators Can Continue Supporting DEI Efforts
Budgets may be tight, but children are the future, so prioritising their education is essential. Even though cutting DEI programs would save some money, introducing diverse viewpoints and skill sets can help foster a healthy, inclusive learning environment. Educators should consider leveraging these strategies to preserve their programs.
Celebrating ESEA Heritage Month: Building belonging for every student – and why it matters right now
Written by Yasmina Koné
Yasmina is Deputy Lead of Hemisphere Education, a multi award-winning platform improving racial and cultural literacy in schools. She’s spearheading Hemisphere’s adoption in the UK, building partnerships with leading schools, education partnerships and multi academy trusts. Prior to Hemisphere, Yasmina held senior roles at one of London’s top 10 start-ups, Beam, and Magic Circle law firm Clifford Chance. Profiled by the BBC and The Lawyer, her work has also led her to speak in Parliament. She combines strategic acumen with a commitment to social justice and is passionate about the education sector’s role in creating a more inclusive society.
Originally shared by Hemisphere in the HMC blog on 18/09/2025.
School shapes our values. They’re places where young people learn how to treat one another, how to build community, how to agree and disagree respectfully, and how to challenge prejudice when they see it. At a time when division dominates the headlines, schools can help to foster understanding and empathy, creating safety and belonging.
With East and South East Asian Heritage Month underway and Black History Month around the corner, this is a timely opportunity to help every student to feel that they belong.
“Having exposure [to cultural celebrations] helps me to see people who are from the same background as me and feel less like the odd one out… [it helps me see] that it’s normal to celebrate these events and that I can be proud of them.” Source: Hemisphere research, 2024
This is what belonging feels like: being seen, celebrated, included and proud of who you are. Research consistently highlights four key areas where belonging makes a measurable difference to outcomes:
- Attainment: Pupils who feel they belong are more motivated, engaged, and achieve stronger grades.
- Wellbeing: Belonging boosts self-esteem and resilience while supporting better mental health.
- Attendance: Pupils with a sense of belonging are less likely to disengage, miss school, or drop out.
- Harm reduction: Belonging protects against bullying and social exclusion, helping pupils feel safe and valued.
Source: “School Belonging: A Literature Review” (March 2024). Commissioned by the National Children’s Bureau and conducted by researchers at Goldsmiths, University of London. A review of international and UK-based evidence on school belonging that synthesises research on how belonging is defined, measured, and influenced.
Belonging isn’t built by policy alone; it comes from understanding the specific experiences of different pupil groups. Small changes in everyday practice can make a powerful difference to pupils’ sense of belonging.
Hemisphere’s latest programme explores how you can support students of Chinese ethnicity to feel that they belong. The British Chinese population encompasses vast cultural, linguistic, socioeconomic, and generational differences. It includes people descended from mainland China, Hong Kong (‘Hong Kongers’), South East Asia, the Caribbean, and elsewhere. People who were born in the UK, and people who migrated here.
We share key insights from our research – and the simple actions you and your staff can take – below.
Research insights: Chinese heritage
While Chinese children are one of the highest achieving groups in the UK, they also face high levels of racist abuse and stereotyping. 86% of the students we interviewed had experienced racist banter and jokes. 41% told us that they felt overlooked by teachers who they thought assumed they were “fine” because of their ethnicity. “Positive” stereotyping can conceal real issues and result in unmet needs.
Here are three actions every member of staff can take to support Chinese students:
- Challenge assumptions: tackle the “model minority” myth so that no child’s needs are hidden behind stereotypes.
- Get to know the children you teach: take time to understand each child as an individual and recognise the diversity within the UK’s Chinese community.
- Strengthen representation: ensure your curriculum and resources reflect all pupils’ identities positively, so every child can see themselves in the classroom.
To support schools, we’ve created a one-minute clip from our film on the history of Chinese Britons. Understanding how this heritage is woven into our national story makes it easy to see why representation matters – and how recognising it can transform a pupil’s sense of belonging.
Watch this clip, read more about the actions you can take, and download a resource to share with colleagues here.
Schools that invest in belonging are investing in better outcomes both in and outside the classroom: stronger academic results, better wellbeing and relationships, wider opportunities – and a more cohesive, inclusive society.
Deficit Language: The Invisible Barrier We Do Not Talk About
Written by Hannah Wilson
Founder and Director of the Belonging Effect (formerly Diverse Educators).
We do not just describe people with our words – we define their possibilities. And sometimes, we unintentionally define them by what they lack. Too often, the language we use to describe communities puts the blame on individuals instead of the systems that fail them. This is what we call deficit language.
Why is Deficit Language Problematic?
As we strive to become more inclusive, we really need to consider the language we use and consider if it is a tool for inclusion or a weapon for exclusion. We choose our words to speak out loud our thoughts – language selection gives us agency and we need to be conscious about what we say and how it lands as there is often a gap between our intention and our impact.
In schools and workplaces we can fall into the trap of using deficit language to define and categorise people – it is problematic as it leads with what people are not, as opposed to leading with what they are. It highlights their barriers, instead of celebrating their strengths.
Definition: The word deficit comes from the Latin deficit meaning “it is wanting.” A deficit is characterised by the wanting of something missing – e.g. deficit (noun) is the property of being an amount by which something is less than expected or required.
How Do We Shape Intention into Impact?
When we talk about people, the words we choose matter. They do not just describe reality – they shape it. Deficit language is one of the most common, yet often overlooked, ways language reinforces stereotypes and limits opportunities.
Deficit-based language frames individuals, groups or communities in terms of what they lack rather than what they bring. It emphasises shortcomings, needs, or problems.
Asset-based language focuses on strengths, resources, and potential, using words and framing that promote dignity, confidence, and empowerment. It celebrates difference as a value-add.
Example 1:
It rattles me when I hear educators referring to people on their staff as ‘non-teachers’. This centres the voice and the experience of teachers at the expense of the support staff, the admin staff, the site staff, the catering staff who can be collectively referred to as the operations staff. To open a DEIB training session by welcoming everyone and naming who is in the room, it is both ironic and counter-intuitive, furthermore it undermines the commitment a school is striving to make, when the impact of the language contradicts the intention.
There is nothing ‘non’ about working in a school and being in the majority of the staff who are not the teachers.
Example 2:
It frustrates me when I hear people refer to others as ‘non-English speaking’. This assumes that everyone around the world speaks English and that there is a hierarchy of language. It makes the EAL learner or the multilingual family the problem and negates the value speaking a different language has.
There is nothing ‘non’ about being a linguist and being able to communicate in multiple languages.
Example 3:
It jars me when I hear people refer to others with a darker skin tone as ‘non-whites’. To me this smacks of racial segregation and categorisation. I can’t imagine anyone ever saying can the ‘non-boys’ come over here, or can the ‘non-parents’ go over there? It would get a reaction as it explicitly reduces people and erases their identity.
There is nothing ‘non’ about being racialised as being black, brown or biracial and belonging to the global majority.
Example 4:
It infuriates me on a personal level when people refer to me as being ‘non-married’ and a ‘non-parent’ or childless. This defines me by what I am not instead of what I am. It carries judgment about my lifestyle and my life choices. I am in fact very happy being ‘partner-free’ and ‘child-free’.
There is nothing ‘non’ about being independent, autonomous and self-sufficient.
Why is Deficit Language Harmful?
- It Perpetuates Stereotypes: Deficit framing positions people – especially marginalized communities – as inherently lacking. This reinforces harmful biases rather than dismantling them.
- It Shifts Blame to Individuals: Instead of addressing structural inequities (like underfunded schools, discriminatory hiring, or systemic racism), deficit language makes individuals appear responsible for circumstances beyond their control.
- It Limits Opportunities: Words influence perception. When people are described in deficit terms, decision-makers (teachers, employers, policymakers) may unconsciously lower expectations or overlook talent.
- It Shapes Identity: People internalise how they are described. Constantly hearing deficit-based narratives can impact self-esteem, confidence, and the way individuals see their own potential.
How Do We Move Beyond Deficit Language?
- We shift from “what’s wrong” to “what’s strong” – by replacing reductive phrases and by choosing our words more carefully.
- We highlight agency and resilience – by acknowledging the challenges people face, but also their strengths in navigating them.
- We name systems, not individuals – by focusing on the problem itself instead of focusing on the person who is facing the problem.
- We ask communities how they want to be described – by respecting that self-identification is key so we need to listen, unlearn and re-learn the language that we use.
The Bigger Picture
Moving away from deficit language is not about being “politically correct.” It is about shifting narratives to more accurately reflect reality, challenge harmful assumptions, and honour the dignity and resilience of individuals and communities.
When we change our words, we begin to change the systems they uphold. Asset-based language celebrates the value that difference brings, whereas deficit-based language puts the problem onto the person and others them.
This approach involves shifting the narrative from problems to opportunities, particularly in fields like education and social services, by recognising and valuing individual and community assets to achieve positive and equitable outcomes.
So as everyone strives to articulate their DEIB commitment, as we become more conscious of who we are and our own lived experience – can we please become more confident in modelling inclusive language and more competent in calling in and calling out language that diminishes others?
How Do You Sleep at Night?
Written by Remi Atoyebi
Remi Atoyebi is an experienced Headteacher and ICF Certified Transformational and Leadership Coach. She is a contributor to The Headteachers’ Handbook and a mentor to over 50 school leaders across the UK. As a leader from a Global Majority background, she is passionate about inclusive leadership, psychological safety, and creating safe spaces for underrepresented voices.
It’s a question I’ve been asked more than once as a Headteacher; sometimes half-joking, other times with genuine curiosity. And it’s a fair question.
Headship is not a role you can switch off from at 5pm.
The decisions you make don’t just affect timetables or budgets, they affect children’s lives, families’ futures, and colleagues’ wellbeing.
The weight of it can follow you home and sit on your shoulders late into the night.
Budgets that don’t add up. Safeguarding concerns that keep you alert long after the working day has ended. Government directives that land with little warning and less thought through, for practicality. Staff who are stretched to their limits. Parents with understandable and sometimes impossible expectations. The list is endless.
Every single day, decisions land on your desk that don’t come with neat answers. Some are uncomfortable. Some are deeply personal. Some are triggering. Some weigh far heavier than others.
So how do I sleep at night?
For me, it always comes back to moral purpose.
Headship is full of noise. There are trends that come and go, policies that feel like they change with the seasons, performance tables that never tell the full story, and the ever-present pressure of the loudest voices in the room.
If you’re not careful, you can find yourself reacting to the noise instead of leading with clarity.
When the noise builds, I strip everything back to two simple questions:
- Does this decision serve our core purpose, or is it just noise?
- How will this decision impact the children?
These two questions have become my compass. They stop me being pulled off course by distraction or pressure, and they bring me back to why I stepped into leadership in the first place.
Of course, that doesn’t mean decisions become easy. Often, the morally purposeful choice is also the hardest one.
It might mean saying no to the “shiny” initiative that looks good on a glossy plan but adds very little to learning. Michael Fullan’s assertion about ‘proverbial Christmas Tree Schools’ comes to mind! Schools that look dazzling from the outside, covered in ornaments and trimmings, but when you step closer you realise the tree itself isn’t strong. The core business of learning has to be robust; otherwise, all the sparkle is just distraction.
It might mean investing in staff development or SEND provision, even if it means delaying something more visible to the outside world. It might mean having a difficult, face-to-face conversation with a colleague because the children deserve better, when it would be far easier to avoid the conflict.
It also means living with the discomfort that you won’t please everyone. Some will disagree with your choices. Some will even question your motives. That’s the nature of leadership.
And yes, I don’t always get it right. None of us do. Headship is messy. There are days I’ve looked back and wished I’d handled something differently. But I’ve learned this: I can sleep at night when I know my decisions were rooted in moral purpose. I can live with mistakes made for the right reasons.
What I couldn’t live with is drifting into decisions made out of convenience, fear, or the temptation to follow the crowd.
That’s the difference for me. That’s how I rest; by holding fast to the belief that our work is about the children in front of us, not the noise around us.
Because at the end of the day, headship isn’t about me. It’s about them; the children whose futures are shaped by the choices we make today.
So, if you are leading a school, a team, or even a classroom, I’d invite you to pause and reflect:
- What’s the yardstick you measure your decisions against?
- When the noise gets loud, what helps you stay anchored?
- And most importantly, how will today’s decision make life better for the pupils?
If we can answer these questions with honesty and courage, we will not only serve our children better, but we will also find our own peace of mind. Because when your choices are rooted in purpose, you really can put your head on the pillow at night and rest.
And that, for me, is the only way to do this job.
Beyond the Binary: What would happen if every staffroom heard my trans kids speak?
Written by Matthew Savage
A global education leader, Matthew supports schools worldwide with radical, fresh ways of knowing, helping everyone to be seen, heard, known and belong. A disabled wheelchair user, and parent to two, neuroqueer, adult children, he, his wife and their dingowolf live on the Isle of Skye.
Back in 2021, I wrote for this blog a post entitled, ‘Gender is “wibbly-wobbly” and “timey-wimey”, and gloriously so’. How the world has changed since then!
Then, we lived in a world which was ignorant about, fearful of, and discriminatory towards the trans community. However, today, this ignorance, fear and discrimination have been multiplied a thousandfold.
As life has become tougher for most people, populist, and simply wannabe-popular, governments have sought somehow to blame the situation on the marginalised and minoritised groups most negatively impacted by it: refugees, for example; the disabled; and, of course, trans people.
However, the purpose of this post is not to amplify the critical work of the Good Law Project to rehumanise trans identity in the wake of the EHRC’s misinterpretation of the UK Supreme Court’s recent judgment, or to amplify the efforts of Transactual, and other organisations within the UK’s trans and LGBTQ+ communities, to develop a co-ordinated response to the subsequent public consultation.
As a disabled, wheelchair user myself, I am tired of trying to navigate a world designed through an ableist lens uninformed by the experience of the disabled community itself. And one of the things that angers me most about the offensively called ‘trans debate’ is that it never centres trans voices.
And so this post seeks to share some of those voices, namely those of my two, beautiful, kind, adult, trans children, with whom I recorded a lengthy conversation last August, with the intention of turning it into a published article about the publication of which I am now sufficiently scared to postpone.
For the time being, then, instead, please let these snippets speak for themselves:
- “Like with queer identity in the 1980s, even mentioning it was framed as a bad influence on kids… Section 28 came from that mindset. Today the same fear – ‘talk about it and you’ll turn children trans’ – drives the panic around schools.”
- “Trans Day of Visibility is supposed to be positive, yet the very act of being seen now brings more danger: headlines, hostile laws, threats. Sometimes hiding feels safer than visibility that paints a target on your back.”
- “Adults are so far behind. Some still stumble over ‘trans man’ or ‘trans woman’, let alone neopronouns. Children already use that language confidently, but teachers keep circling around the terminology instead of choosing to learn it.”
- “Our existence gets politicised; we’re not allowed simply to live without becoming a talking point. ‘What about the children?’ is rolled out, yet the outrage is profitable fear-mongering, not genuine concern for young people’s wellbeing.”
- “Bullies know that strangers – and even politicians – repeat the same slurs, so their abuse feels legitimised. It isn’t only hatred of who you are; it’s a constant challenge to whether you even are who you say you are.”
- “Trans kids are treated like pawns in a culture war. Nobody is talking to them; everyone talks about them. Policies get drafted, panels convene, yet the voices most affected are left outside the room.”
- “Breaking down gender stereotypes liberates everyone – cis students included – who doesn’t fit a rigid mould. When a classroom loosens those constraints, more young people can breathe and learn as their authentic selves.”
I firmly believe that in a world where to come out as trans has never been more terrifying, what we need most is for trans allies to come out instead – with your families, your friends, your colleagues and the world at large. Because I firmly believe that, at times like these, silence is complicity.
Will you come out as the ally my children, and their trans siblings nationwide, need now more than ever?
What I’ve Learned About DEI and Education Since Founding Inclusion Labs
Written by Temi Akindele Barker
Temi Akindele Barker is the founder of Inclusion Labs, an organisation dedicated to amplifying every voice and co-creating a more inclusive future by using data as a foundation for change. Inclusion Labs partners with schools to gather, share, and activate insights from DEI surveys, driving meaningful and measurable change. Temi began her career as a consultant in Legal Executive Search, working in both the UK and internationally. She led senior teams serving US and UK law firms as well as financial institutions, helping local and multinational clients achieve their strategic goals.
Over the past few years, I’ve worked with schools across the UK (and beyond), collecting unfiltered experiences from every stakeholder – students, parents, staff, and leadership. We gather data across race/ethnicity, gender, sexual orientation, religion/belief, socio-economic status, disability, and more. No shortcuts. No hierarchy of oppression. It’s been eye-opening. Often heartbreaking. Occasionally enraging. Frequently hopeful. Always necessary.
Here’s some of what I’ve learned:
- Truth hurts. But it’s the only way forward
The flurry of statements after BLM and Everyone’s Invited felt urgent, but many faded fast. I’ve seen the sector swing from apathy to panic to action and back again. DEI work can’t solely be reactive. It must be rooted in truth, which is uncomfortable but essential. You can’t solve what you don’t understand. You can’t challenge what you don’t even know to question. You have to invite the conversations in (especially when uncomfortable) and create space to listen and learn. If you’re afraid to know the truth about your school’s culture, you’re not really being inclusive. - Passion > £££
Most school DEI leads have no budget. Many don’t even have ring-fenced time. What they do have in spades is passion and purpose. Some come from marginalised backgrounds, and most carry a personal “why.” It’s often a lonely, thankless task, yet they keep going. In our recent report, 20,000+ voices were gathered, supported by fewer than 30 DEI leads. Let that sink in. This work is fraught with differing opinions, often delivered unkindly. Yet these leads show up, time after time, with care and courage. They embody: it doesn’t have to happen to you for it to matter to you. - There’s joy and pain in having inclusion in your name
I named our organisation Inclusion Labs, and meant it. But it carries weight and expectations. “You call yourselves Inclusion Labs; you should have X as an option.” People assume your politics, your beliefs. Sometimes, you’re the only one in the room who sees the full picture. This work means accepting that you can never fully capture all the ways in which communities are diverse. And more importantly, it is not our job to decide whether someone’s identity is valid.
We are not here to judge or politicise – our role is to reflect back to schools who their community says they are right now. That comes with challenges. We might exclude someone by not including a category they feel represents them. Or offend someone else who believes listing too many categories is fundamentally wrong (“Why does sexual orientation have eight options?”)
But our job isn’t to gatekeep identity. It’s to hold space for both. And yes, that might mean someone gets offended. - Everyone must have a say. Even the ones you wish wouldn’t
DEI isn’t about echo chambers, so we don’t censor. We share every insight with schools – good, bad, ugly, bigoted. We’ve heard testimonies that are beautiful, funny, painful, hopeful, and some that are outright offensive. Everyone having a say means… everyone has a say. Some comments I’ll carry with me for life. Some made me laugh out loud (high five to primary students). Others made me cry with heartbreak. Doing this work has made me cry more in the past few years than in all the previous ones combined. I’ve said it once, I’ll say it again – doing this work, you see the best and worst of humanity. - Yes, there are (racist, homophobic, ableist…) teachers
Let’s just name it. Schools are a microcosm of society – they hold its brilliance and its bias. So yes, there are bigots in schools. It’s uncomfortable to admit. And yes, it’s disorienting to realise these individuals are tasked with teaching and supporting children. Sometimes you wonder: who among us is that person? But often the worst attitude comes from parents (who also choose to share views that are racist, homophobic, ableist…). Even inclusion surveys spark outrage – “Are you indoctrinating our children?” What they – in fact all of us – need to accept is that at any given moment, there might be one person that needs this work to be done – whether it’s for support, for correction, or for education (staff and parents included). - You will fail. You’re allowed to fail.
We need to stop demanding perfection. Schools aren’t DEI think tanks. They are made up of teachers trying to do their best with limited time, budget, and under incredible pressure. They will get it wrong. And that’s okay. We shouldn’t demand perfection – just passion and determination. Effort. Commitment. Willingness. That’s all we should ask. This work isn’t about perfection. It’s about progress. And mistakes will happen. We need to stop weaponising mistakes and start using them to fuel better choices. Because when a school gets it right, the wins feel that much better. - Same same, but different
Are the issues really that different from school to school? No – and yes. Same issues, different proportions. Every school has racism. Every school has sexism. Every school has kids struggling with identity, belonging, being “othered.” The difference lies in what schools do or have done with those truths. Our recent report highlighted the 15 most pressing themes from stakeholders themselves (what mattered most to them). Most schools will attempt to address some or all of them, but to varying degrees and success. - Sometimes you need to get out of the way
Those with lived experience: your voice matters. But anger (while valid) can create fear. And fear kills progress. If everyone’s too afraid to speak or try, if no one’s willing to step forward or take a risk, nothing changes and no one moves forward. Sometimes, we need to turn our pain into possibility and let clarity, not chaos, lead the way. - Sometimes it’s just a distraction tactic
Once at a school session, I told an anecdote about a maths teacher who asked if DEI work applied to them. They felt that certain subjects naturally fell under this area (English, History, PSHE) but they could not see this so clearly for their subject. I will not bore you with the details of our conversation, but needless to say, I shared this story to make the point that DEI is not reserved for English or PSHE. But I later heard that some maths teachers felt personally attacked, as they felt it positioned them as lacking empathy. A landmine I didn’t see coming. Dare I say, ridiculous to the fullest extent – and designed to be just that: a distraction. (And for clarification – maths teachers have empathy). - DEI awards are (mostly) nonsense
Let’s be honest: a lot of DEI awards are performative. Some are paid-for nonsense. I’ve had countless offers with no real understanding of our work – for a small fee, of course! If you want validation as a school? If you need to know who you can trust to do the work and do it well? Then word of mouth, every time.
Finally…
Inclusion is never about just schools. It’s always been about society. If we can embed inclusive values, attitudes and behaviours in our school communities – from 5-year-olds through to governors – then we stand a chance at changing the wider world. This sector has more work to do. So, continue listening. Continue telling the truth. Refuse to shut up. Keep calm and carry on.
Beyond Burnout: A Leadership Framework for Wellbeing That Lasts
Written by Morgan Whitfield
Morgan Whitfield is an experienced senior leader and professional development consultant who advocates high-challenge learning. Morgan hails from Canada and has taken on such roles as Director of Teaching and Learning, Head of Sixth Form, Head of Humanities and Head of Scholars. Her book Gifted? The Shift to Enrichment, Challenge and Equity, reframed “gifted” education as a mandate to provide enrichment and challenge for all students. She is a passionate advocate for equity in education, a BSO inspector, radio show host and mother of three brilliant little ones. Morgan has worked with schools across the Middle East, Asia and the UK and currently lives in Vietnam.
As the academic year draws to a close, the school finally exhales. The corridors fall quiet, the calendar clears, and the pace begins to slow. After weeks of farewells, final reports, and frantic last meetings, we find ourselves in that strange stillness that follows a year lived at full speed.
It is often in this moment, when the adrenaline fades, that exhaustion catches up with us. For many educators, the end of term is not a time of celebration but of sheer survival. Burnout is not a new conversation in education. But it is a necessary one.
This year, I have been reflecting deeply on what it really means to see the wellbeing of our colleagues. Not just to discuss workload, have a yoga session or introduce a mindfulness app. But to truly notice, reach out, listen, and build the kind of trust that allows people to say when they are not okay.
Wellbeing is not a side project. It is the foundation of a thriving school culture.
Next academic year, I intend to embed this belief more intentionally into my leadership practice. This wellbeing framework is drawn from conversations with colleagues, coaching reflections, and lessons learned the hard way. Some of these actions are already part of how I lead. Others are areas I am actively working on. All are grounded in the kind of leadership I want to grow into.
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Leading with empathy and emotional intelligence
Empathy begins with presence. It is in the quiet pause after a difficult meeting, when I stay behind and ask someone how they are really doing. It is in recognising when a team member needs flexibility, not pressure. I try to stay attuned to how people are feeling and what might be unsaid. I want to respond not with assumption, but with understanding. I am also working to become more intentional about recognition, regularly pausing to acknowledge small wins and show appreciation. Next year, I want to make even more space for human-centred conversations, and to ensure equity drives not only what we do but how we do it.
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Being present, accessible and action-oriented
I have learned that presence is more than visibility. It is about showing up fully. I try to be there, at the door of a classroom, in the staffroom, or at a team meeting, with my attention undivided. I have become more conscious about setting aside time to listen, and I want to keep improving how I respond to feedback. Next year, we need to have more staff-led initiatives and co-designed solutions, and I have seen how much more sustainable change becomes when people feel they helped shape it. Going forward, I want to be more systematic in how I gather and act on voice, and ensure the ‘follow-through’ feels as visible as the listening.
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Communicating with clarity and sharing ownership
In a busy school, unclear communication adds unnecessary stress. I try to communicate as clearly and purposefully as I can, especially in briefings, strategy updates, or leadership meetings. But I know I still have room to grow here. Next year, I want to slow down and explain the ‘why’ more consistently, not just the ‘what’. I also want to keep improving how we invite staff voice at every level- not as a token gesture but as a core part of how we work. This means involving people earlier, making consultation processes more open, and building time into systems for shared thinking and collaborative planning.
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Building trust through connection and collaboration
Trust is built through consistent, respectful connection. I have seen the difference it makes when I show up in coaching conversations with genuine curiosity rather than judgment. When I take time to listen deeply in difficult moments. When I share vulnerability instead of hiding behind expertise. I want to do more to create spaces for collaboration across teams and roles, and to help people feel psychologically safe enough to speak openly, disagree productively, and show up fully. Trust, I am learning, is not built through grand gestures but in the quiet, daily actions of relational leadership.
A Hopeful Pause
For now, I am grateful for the pause of summer. For the chance to breathe, reflect, and recalibrate. I remain committed to returning with purpose, to help shape school cultures where people feel seen, valued and sustained. Our wellbeing matters, not only for ourselves, but for the young people we serve. Schools should be built on the foundation of empathy, respect, and heartfelt connection. When leadership is infused with genuine humanity, transformative change naturally follows.
A Leadership Framework for Wellbeing
- Lead with empathy and emotional intelligence
Leadership should be emotionally attuned, grounded in empathy and emotional awareness.
Decisions are made with understanding, not assumption.
People are recognised, celebrated, and treated as individuals, not just roles.
Human-centred decision-making is a priority. - Be present, accessible, and action-oriented
Leadership is visible, present, and willing to pause.
Feedback is a dialogue, actively invited and used to co-create solutions.
Input leads to action, with clear follow-through.
Diverse voices are included and valued in every stage of decision-making. - Communicate clearly and share ownership
Communication is honest, purposeful, and transparent.
The ‘why’ behind decisions is always shared, not just the ‘what’.
Clarity is prioritised to reduce ambiguity and confusion.
Staff are meaningfully involved in shaping the path forward. - Prioritise connection and trust
Support takes precedence over supervision.
Connection, collaboration, and trust are woven into leadership practice.
Safe spaces are created where staff can bring their whole selves to work.
Wellbeing is not an extra, but a foundational lens for leadership.
Resources:
Wellbeing is being seen, heard, valued and invited
https://docs.google.com/presentation/d/1-8kWq-RrI44o7pFkfhbWExLe8FvcKbjIwO2RGmaOiJ0/edit?usp=sharing
Courageous Conversations
Written by Hannah Wilson
Founder and Director of the Belonging Effect (formerly Diverse Educators).
What is a Courageous Conversation?
In courageous conversations, whether in the context of performance appraisal, mentoring, or coaching, individuals are encouraged to express their views openly and truthfully, rather than defensively or with the purpose of laying blame. Integral to courageous conversations is an openness to learn.
What Is an Example of a Courageous Conversation?
Typical examples include handling conflict, confronting a colleague, expressing an unpopular idea on a team, asking for a favour, saying no to a request for a favour, asking for a raise, or trying to have a conversation with someone who is avoiding you. Research shows that many women find such “courageous conversations” challenging.
How Do You Frame a Courageous Conversation?
- Set your intentions clearly.
- Create a container.
- Prepare facilitators & groups.
- Set it up.
- Open with vulnerability.
- Have the discussion.
- Come back together and close.
- Support each other.
What Does the Research Tell Us About Courageous Conversations?
According to the work of Susan Scott there are The Seven Principles of Fierce Conversations:
- Master the courage to interrogate reality. Are your assumptions valid? Has anything changed? What is now required of you? Of others?
- Come out from behind yourself into the conversation and make it real. When the conversation is real, change can occur before the conversation is over.
- Be here, prepared to be nowhere else. Speak and listen as if this is the most important conversation you will ever have with this person.
- Tackle your toughest challenge today. Identify and then confront the real obstacles in your path. Confrontation should be a search for the truth. Healthy relationships include both confrontation and appreciation.
- Obey your instincts. During each conversation, listen for more than content. Listen for emotion and intent as well. Act on your instincts rather than passing them over for fear that you could be wrong or that you might offend.
- Take responsibility for your emotional wake. For a leader there is no trivial comment. The conversation is not about the relationship; the conversation is the relationship. Learning to deliver the message without the load allows you to speak with clarity, conviction, and compassion.
- Let silence do the heavy lifting. Talk with people, not at them. Memorable conversations include breathing space. Slow down the conversation so that insight can occur in the space between words.
