Walking the Camino in Italy, I was often reminded how vulnerable you feel when your words don’t quite land. In quiet villages along the daily route, I would ask for directions or order a meal, only to be met with puzzled looks when my English collided with unfamiliar ears and my very limited Italian landed short. Yet somehow, with gestures, patience, and a willingness to laugh at myself, meaning still emerged.
It reminded me of a story my mother told me when I was very young about a trip to Paris that she and my father took early in their marriage. Mum’s French was reasonable, and my father’s almost nonexistent. Yet there they were, two grown adults standing in a café trying to order a coffee with milk, and for the life of them, neither could remember the word for milk in French. So what did they do? They began miming the act of milking a cow while enthusiastically mooing in the middle of a Parisian café. It worked - coffee with milk was served, and laughter followed them out the door.
These moments reminded me that communication is rarely about perfect language (I say that knowing full well my silent nickname is “Queen of Typos” thanks to my exceptional ability to include at least one in every email). Rather, it’s about connection.
As a leader, I see the same truth in schools: not every colleague, parent, or student will understand us in the way we first intend. Our task is to find the medium that works, through storytelling, modelling, listening, or action - so that our message of care, clarity, and purpose still reaches its destination, perhaps with less hilarity than interpretive mime in a French café.
Different situations demand different forms of communication. There is the direct, transactional type - emails, instructions, announcements - where clarity and brevity matter most. Then there is relational communication, built on empathy, curiosity, and tone. This type asks us to read between the lines, to sense emotion as much as interpret words. And finally, there’s the symbolic and aspirational form: the way we communicate values and vision through stories, rituals, and even silence. In leadership, all three matter.
Understanding our audience is central to this craft. A Year 7 student needs reassurance wrapped in simplicity; a parent seeking clarity about their child’s wellbeing needs empathy first, policy second. A staff member navigating change may not hear the strategy until they’ve felt heard themselves. Effective communicators don’t just speak, they translate, tailoring message and medium to context, timing, and emotional landscape.
Walking through foreign streets on the Camino, I learned again that communication is not the mastery of words, it is the art of mutual understanding. Whether through gesture, tone, story, or silence, our task as leaders is to build bridges, not simply deliver messages. In every exchange, large or small, we’re not just transferring information, we’re inviting connection, trust, and shared meaning.
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