There are moments in leadership that reveal far more about our processes than our intentions ever could. Often, they don’t arrive neatly packaged as case studies or strategic reviews, but as deeply human experiences that test our assumptions, our communication, and our capacity for empathy.
For me, one such moment came not in a boardroom, but in a virtual meeting about my eldest daughter.
Like many first-time parents, my husband and I believed we knew our child intimately. At home, she was gentle, affectionate, and, if anything, a little reserved. So, when her school began to describe a very different picture during her early years of primary education, it was confronting. We were told that while she was indeed lovely, she was also erratic, emotionally volatile, prone to disengagement, and struggling academically, particularly in mathematics. Terms like Occupational Therapy, ADHD, ODD, and Autism were introduced with increasing urgency.
The challenge was not just the content of the feedback, it was the absence of evidence. We were being asked to reconcile two vastly different versions of the same child without being shown what the school was seeing. As any leader knows, when stakeholders are asked to act without clarity or shared understanding, trust begins to erode.
The situation escalated when we were invited to what was framed as a “Team Genevieve” meeting. The intention, we were told, was to collaborate on the best way forward. What unfolded, however, felt less like a team discussion and more like a formal inquiry. When we logged on, there were nine school representatives present, including the principal. For two working parents dialing in from separate workplaces, with one of them acutely aware of the educational context as an executive leader, this was not only unexpected - it was overwhelming. The power imbalance in that virtual room was palpable. What was positioned as support felt, in execution, like scrutiny.
And here lies the first leadership lesson: process matters as much as purpose.
The school’s objective - to ensure our daughter received the support she needed, was ultimately the right one. But the pathway they chose created defensiveness, fear, and emotional distress. Even the most well-intentioned outcomes can be undermined by poorly designed engagement processes. During the meeting, I felt something I rarely experience in professional settings: a loss of composure. My voice wavered. My hands shook. I left the call, in tears. For someone who prides herself on emotional resilience, this was both unfamiliar and instructive.
Which brings me to the second lesson: never underestimate the emotional impact of leadership environments.
Leaders often assume that if the facts are sound, the delivery is secondary. This is a fallacy. The environment we create, whether physical or virtual, directly influences how information is received and processed. A room with nine authority figures may signal thoroughness to the organiser, but intimidation to the recipient.
Thirdly, there is the critical importance of transparency and evidence.
Had we been shown specific examples, patterns of behaviour, or even brief observations earlier in the process, the conversation may have unfolded very differently. Instead, we were asked to accept a narrative that conflicted with our lived experience as parents. In organisational contexts, this is akin to presenting conclusions without data - a practice that rarely fosters alignment. Yet, despite the flawed process, the outcome was ultimately positive. We pursued the recommended assessments. We engaged with specialists. And today, our daughter is thriving beyond measure - supported, understood, and confident in ways we could not have imagined at the outset.
This leads to a nuanced but essential leadership insight: good outcomes do not justify poor processes.
It would be easy to look back and say, “Well, it worked.” But that perspective ignores the cost, the emotional toll, the erosion of trust, and the missed opportunity to build a truly collaborative partnership. Effective leadership is not just about arriving at the right destination; it is about how you bring people along the journey.
Finally, there is a lesson here about power and perception.
Leaders hold positional authority, whether they intend to wield it or not. In moments of vulnerability, such as a discussion about a child’s wellbeing, that authority is amplified. The responsibility, therefore, is to consciously design interactions that feel safe, balanced, and respectful. Sometimes, that means fewer voices in the room, clearer expectations, and a tone that invites dialogue rather than dictates direction.
In reflecting on this experience, I am reminded that leadership is, at its core, a human practice. Policies, procedures, and frameworks are essential, but they must always be underpinned by empathy, clarity, and intentionality. Perhaps, when we next consider convening a “team” meeting, we might pause to ask: does this feel like a team - or an inquisition? Because the answer to that question will shape not only the outcome, but the relationships that endure long after the meeting ends.
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