There are many things I love about leadership. The buzz of a corridor or playground before class. The quiet hum of a classroom deep in thought. The electric clarity of a strategic meeting when ideas collide and something better is born.
Email is not one of those things.
If I am honest, and I always am even if its uncomfortable, I have a sincere dislike for emails.
Not communication. Not clarity. Not connection. Just the relentless, dive-bombing, pinging, multiplying, cc’ing, “reply-all”-ing avalanche that is my inbox.
Some days it feels less like correspondence and more like aerial combat.
While I am out with students and staff, teaching lessons, coaching middle leaders, preparing for strategic meetings and workshops, my inbox appears to be hosting its own festival. Messages land in quick succession, each one urgent, each one important, each one requiring thought, care, tone and time - the one commodity leadership rarely hands out generously.
And here is where the trouble begins.
Because email is fast. Leadership thinking is fast. My brain moves at pace. My fingers attempt to keep up. And somewhere between thought and keyboard, the occasional typo sneaks in. Sometimes more than occasional. I try to slow down. I proofread. I reread. And still, an errant letter, a rogue autocorrect, a sentence that reads more abrupt than intended.
It drives me mad. I suspect it drives recipients mad too.
But typos are the least of it. The real challenge with email is not spelling. It is tone.
Tone does not travel well digitally. Inflection evaporates. Warmth can look like brevity. Brevity can look like brusqueness. A question can feel like a challenge. A challenge can feel like criticism. And in the speed of a day, or a week, assumptions can creep in where curiosity should live.
I have seen culture wobble not because of intent, but because of interpretation.
Leadership lesson number one: Assume positive intent. Always.
In schools especially, we are all tired. We are all juggling. We are all carrying more than the visible workload. When an email lands that feels sharp, it is tempting to react in kind. But nine times out of ten, what you are reading is haste, not hostility. The person on the other side of that screen is likely doing their very best in a very full day.
Leadership lesson number two: If it matters, make it human.
There are conversations that should never be born in an inbox. Nuance belongs in dialogue. Disagreement deserves dignity. Feedback requires facial expression. Celebration needs shared air.
Face-to-face is where culture is built. Corridors, classrooms, doorways, meetings where we can read each other properly, that is where trust grows. Email should support relationships, not replace them. I have learned to ask myself: could this be a walk instead of a send? A five-minute conversation instead of a five-paragraph message? Often, the answer is yes.
Leadership lesson number three: Slow is smooth, smooth is fast.
In my effort to be efficient, I sometimes fire off replies between lessons, between meetings, between breaths. Efficiency, however, is not the same as effectiveness. A rushed email that requires three clarifications later is not efficient. It is expensive.
Taking a moment, even an hour, can transform the quality of response. Not because the content changes dramatically, but because the temperature does.
And temperature matters.
Leadership lesson number four: Clarity is kindness.
If we must use email — and of course we must — then let us be deliberate. Clear subject lines. Clear actions. Clear deadlines. Fewer words. Fewer recipients. No passive-aggressive punctuation. (We have all seen the weaponised ellipsis…)
Kindness in email looks like precision. It looks like context. It looks like gratitude. It looks like “thank you for raising this” and “I appreciate the work you’ve put in” and “let’s talk this through.”
Leadership lesson number five: own your imperfections.
I will continue to make the occasional typo. My brain will continue to outrun my keyboard. I will continue striving to improve. But perfection is not the goal, presence is.
If I send something unclear, I will clarify. If tone lands wrongly, I will apologise. If I need to pick up the phone and reset the mood, I will. Leadership is not about immaculate inboxes. It is about modelling humility.
And perhaps that is the final lesson. Email is a tool. A useful one. A necessary one. But it is not leadership.
Leadership is found in eye contact. In laughter in the staffroom. In difficult conversations handled with care. In assuming the best of each other when it would be easier not to.
So yes, my inbox will continue its dramatic dive-bombing. I will continue my battle with autocorrect. I will continue trying to slow my racing thoughts long enough for my fingers to behave.
But I will also continue choosing humanity over haste.
Always assume positive intent. Take the time where you can. Step away from the screen when it matters most. Because culture is not built in “sent from my iPhone.” It is built in the spaces between us. And those spaces deserve more than a subject line.
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