Learning to Fail Well

Thomas Edison, one of the most famous inventors in history, was not an overnight success.

Born in Ohio in 1847, his journey was defined far more by failure than by breakthrough. Take the light bulb—often credited to Edison, but in reality, an idea that already existed. The problem was not invention, but application. Early versions were impractical: too expensive, too fragile, or simply unable to last. In 1878, Edison set out to solve this.

What followed was not a moment of genius, but a process of relentless trial and error. Edison and his team tested thousands of materials for the filament. They explored at least three thousand different theories. Each attempt failed to produce a viable solution. Until one didn’t.

By 1879, Edison had identified a workable design and filament, creating the first practical incandescent light bulb.

But here’s the important part. Edison did not succeed despite failure. He succeeded because of it. Each failed attempt wasn’t wasted effort, it was information. A narrowing of possibilities. A step closer to clarity. This has powerful implications for schools.

When it comes to culture, we often search for certainty. The “right” system. The “perfect” approach. The strategy that will just work. And when something doesn’t land as expected, there can be a temptation to abandon it quickly or move on to the next idea. But culture doesn’t work like that.

Building culture is far closer to Edison’s process than it is to a quick win. It is iterative. It is imperfect. And at times, it will feel like things aren’t working.

A behaviour system may need refining. A routine may not land first time. A new expectation may be inconsistently applied. These are not signs of failure. They are part of the process.

The key difference lies in how those moments are treated:

• In weaker cultures, mistakes lead to abandonment: “That didn’t work, let’s try something else.”
• In stronger cultures, mistakes lead to refinement: “What did we learn, and how do we improve it?”

This is where many school improvement efforts falter. Not because the idea was wrong, but because it wasn’t given the time, consistency, and reflection needed to embed. Too often, schools move from initiative to initiative, never staying long enough to learn what works in their context.

Edison didn’t change the goal. He refined the approach. For school leaders, this raises an important challenge:

1.  Are we building a culture that avoids failure?
2.  Or one that learns from it?

Because the latter is where real improvement lives. Your “ideal” school culture is not discovered fully formed. It is built, iteration by iteration, refinement by refinement.

And every mistake, if properly understood, is not a step backwards…It is a step closer.

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The Myth of Copying Success

Apple is now one of the most recognisable and financially successful companies in the world. But its journey to that position was far from inevitable.

Founded in 1976 by Steve Jobs, Steve Wozniak and Ronald Wayne, Apple quickly became a pioneer in personal computing. Yet following Jobs’ departure in 1985, when he went on to establish NeXT, the company began to drift. Innovation slowed, direction became unclear, and by 1997 Apple was on the brink of bankruptcy. What is often overlooked, however, is what happened next.

Steve Jobs did not go on to immediate, runaway success at NeXT. Despite technical innovation and influence, the company struggled commercially. The same leader, with similar instincts and ideas, operating in a different context, produced very different outcomes.

This is where the lesson for schools becomes powerful. It is tempting to believe that success can be lifted and shifted, that if we take a strong leader, a successful strategy, or a high-performing school model, we can simply replicate it elsewhere. But Apple and NeXT remind us that success is rarely that transferable.

Because success is not just about leadership. It is about culture.

When Jobs returned to Apple in 1997, he did not simply reapply what he had done before. Instead, he worked within, and reshaped, the existing culture. He simplified product lines, sharpened focus, and aligned the organisation around a clear sense of purpose. Crucially, he rebuilt coherence. What followed was not just a turnaround, but a transformation. Leading to products like the iMac, iPod, and eventually the iPhone.

The difference was not just the leader. It was the alignment between leadership, strategy and culture. For schools, this matters deeply. Too often, we look outward for solutions: adopting another school’s behaviour system, curriculum model, or teaching approach. But without the cultural conditions that underpin those strategies, implementation can feel forced, inconsistent, or short-lived.

A behaviour system that thrives in one school may falter in another. A curriculum model that drives excellence elsewhere may feel ineffective when transplanted. Not because the strategy is flawed, but because the culture is different.

Culture shapes how things are interpreted, enacted and sustained. This is why surface-level alignment, such as shared values statements, is not enough. Two schools may both claim to value “high expectations” or “respect,” but how those values are lived day-to-day can vary dramatically. Culture is not what is written on the wall; it is what happens in the corridors, classrooms and conversations.

So what should leaders do?

Firstly, recognise that borrowing is not the problem: blind borrowing is. Looking outward for inspiration is valuable, but it must be followed by careful adaptation. Leaders must ask:

• Does this align with our current culture?
  
• If not, what needs to change first—our systems or our culture?
• What will this look like in practice, here, with our staff and students?

Secondly, focus on coherence. Successful schools are not defined by isolated strategies, but by how well those strategies align with each other and with the wider culture. Implementation is not just about introducing something new, it is about ensuring it fits.

Finally, understand that culture is built over time. It cannot be imported, accelerated overnight, or imposed through policy alone. It is shaped through consistent behaviours, shared expectations, and collective belief.

Apple’s story reminds us of something simple, but often overlooked: success is not portable.

In schools, as in business, what works is not just what you do, but where you do it, how you do it, and the culture in which it lives.

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Scaffold or Cage? Rethinking Routines

What if the “strictest school in Britain” was also one of the happiest?

A school in North London once earned that exact headline. To some, it conjures images of rigidity, silence and compliance. But step inside, and the reality is noted to feel very different. Visitors often describe something unexpected: students who are calm, focused, and content. There is a quiet confidence in the way they move through the day. Nothing feels chaotic. Nothing feels uncertain.

The difference? Routine. Not routines as a checklist, but routines as culture, deeply embedded, consistently applied, and understood by everyone in the building.

This is where cognitive load theory offers a powerful lens. Working memory is limited. When students are forced to think about what to do next, where to go, or how to behave, they are spending cognitive energy on things that should be automatic. Every small uncertainty is a drain.

Routines remove that friction. When students know exactly how to enter a classroom, how to begin their work, and what is expected of them, those processes become automatic and almost invisible. And when that happens, something important is unlocked: thinking capacity. Attention shifts away from managing the environment and towards engaging with learning.

And here’s where it becomes even more powerful. Success in learning, especially with more complex tasks triggers dopamine. That sense of achievement, however small, creates a feeling of reward. Over time, this builds a positive feedback loop: success increases motivation, motivation increases effort, and effort leads to further success.

Now imagine that happening every day. What looks like “strictness” from the outside is, in reality, clarity. What looks like control is, in practice, consistency. And what grows from that consistency is something far more valuable: a culture where students feel secure, capable and successful. That is why they look happy.

However, there is an important tension here: one that school leaders must navigate carefully. Routines are powerful, but they are not without risk. When over-designed or over-applied, they can begin to crowd out something equally important: creativity. If every moment is prescribed, every action scripted, and every response anticipated, students may become efficient, but not necessarily independent. They may comply, but not create.

The goal, therefore, is not maximum routine, but purposeful routine. Strong schools are deliberate about where routines matter most, transitions, behaviour, and foundational learning habits, because these are the areas where reducing cognitive load has the greatest impact. But they are equally deliberate about where to create space: for discussion, for exploration, for thinking differently. In this sense, routines should act as a scaffold, not a cage.

For school leaders, this sharpens the question. Not do we have routines, but do our routines create freedom or restrict it? Are they enabling deeper thinking, or quietly replacing it?

Because when routines are thoughtfully designed and carefully balanced, they do more than organise a school day. They create the conditions in which students can both succeed and think.

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Harnessing the Power of Gossip

A school leader I once worked with understood something that many leaders overlook: culture doesn’t just live in policies, meetings, or mission statements—it lives in conversations.

Before formally releasing a new strategy, they would first quietly share the idea with two or three individuals known for being well connected within the informal social fabric of the school. These were people others spoke to. People others listened to. People through whom information naturally travelled. They would tell them the idea, and then wait.

Over the following week, the strategy would circulate informally. It would be discussed in corridors, mentioned in passing, and reflected upon in staffrooms. Staff would begin forming opinions—not because they had been instructed to, but because culture had carried the idea to them. This leader wasn’t just sharing information. They were listening to culture.

If the reaction was negative—if the idea created anxiety, frustration, or resistance—they would pause, reconsider, and often abandon the proposal entirely. If, however, the idea was accepted—or even quietly supported—they would formally introduce it. By that point, the ground had already been prepared. Staff had time to process it. It no longer felt sudden or imposed. Resistance was lower because the culture had already begun absorbing the change.

This approach reveals something fundamental: culture determines whether strategy succeeds or fails long before it is formally announced.

Schools operate on two parallel structures. There is the formal structure—the organisational charts, leadership teams, and official channels. But there is also the informal structure—the networks of trust, influence, and conversation that exist beneath the surface. It is this informal structure that often determines how change is received.

This is not to suggest leaders should manipulate culture. Trust, once broken, is difficult to rebuild. But it does highlight an important principle: effective leaders don’t impose change on culture—they work with it.

Change is not just a technical process. It is a cultural one. Dan Rockwell explores a related idea in his 2022 blog post, “How to Gossip Like a Leader,” where he describes the concept of reverse gossip, shared with him by Bob Burg. Instead of allowing informal conversations to default toward complaint or criticism, leaders can intentionally redirect them by asking staff to share something positive about someone who isn’t present.

This simple shift has profound cultural consequences. It surfaces the contributions of “unsung heroes”—those who quietly strengthen the school without recognition. It builds collective appreciation. It reinforces the behaviours leaders want to see more of. And perhaps most importantly, it reshapes the emotional tone of everyday conversation.

Because culture is not shaped in assemblies or PowerPoints. It is shaped in the quiet, repeated conversations between colleagues. What leaders tolerate in those conversations becomes culture. What leaders amplify in those conversations becomes culture faster.

Ultimately, gossip itself is neither good nor bad. It is simply evidence of culture at work. It reflects what people care about, what they fear, and what they value.

The question for school leaders is not whether informal conversations exist. They always will. The question is whether you are listening closely enough to understand what they are telling you about your culture.

Because culture does not spread through announcements. It spreads through people.

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When Leaders Become the Bottleneck

Philip Gift, a U.S. Navy helicopter pilot, argues that leadership bottlenecks can be traced back to technological developments during the First World War. In his Military Leaders blog post, “The Leadership Bottleneck: What happens when managers and leaders cross lines,” he highlights how the telegram transformed decision-making. For the first time, kings, generals, and foreign ministers could issue instructions instantly from hundreds of miles away. Decisions no longer needed to be made by those closest to the situation. Instead, authority could be centralised—physically distant, yet operationally present.

On the surface, this represented progress. Communication became faster, coordination more efficient, and control more centralised. But it also introduced a hidden risk: the emergence of leadership bottlenecks.

When decisions flow upwards too easily, they often stop there. Responsibility concentrates in fewer hands. Those closest to the problem—the people with the clearest understanding of context—can become passive recipients of instruction rather than active decision-makers. Over time, this doesn’t just slow organisations down; it reshapes their culture.

Schools are not immune to this dynamic. Modern technology—email, messaging platforms, management systems—means school leaders can be involved in every decision, no matter how small. While this can create a sense of oversight, it can also unintentionally signal something deeper: that authority resides at the top, and initiative resides elsewhere.

Culture is shaped not just by what leaders say, but by what they allow others to do. When staff feel they must seek permission for routine decisions, a culture of dependency begins to form. Teachers stop acting autonomously. Middle leaders stop leading. Initiative is replaced by compliance. Over time, the organisation becomes slower, quieter, and more fragile—not because staff lack capability, but because culture has taught them not to act.

This is the modern leadership bottleneck. And like its First World War counterpart, it is enabled by technology—but sustained by culture. Philip Gift argues that breaking through these bottlenecks requires two things: face-to-face interaction and a clear organisational structure with defined roles and responsibilities. Both are fundamentally cultural acts.

Face-to-face interaction builds trust. Trust creates confidence. Confidence enables autonomy. Clear roles and responsibilities create clarity about who decides what. But more importantly, they signal belief. They communicate that leadership is not confined to titles—it is distributed through the organisation.

In schools with strong cultures, decisions do not accumulate at the top. They flow to the person best placed to make them. Senior leaders set direction, but they do not become a barrier. They create clarity, not dependency. This is not about relinquishing accountability. It is about creating capacity.

A school culture free from bottlenecks is one where:

• Teachers feel trusted to make professional decisions

• Middle leaders act, rather than wait

• Senior leaders focus on strategy, rather than control

• Responsibility is clear, visible, and lived

Ultimately, leadership bottlenecks are not just structural problems—they are cultural ones. They emerge when systems centralise authority, but they persist when culture reinforces it. The lesson from the telegram is not about technology. It is about proximity. The closer decisions are to the people who understand the work, the healthier the culture becomes.

Because strong school cultures are not built on control. They are built on clarity, trust, and the confidence to act.

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