It’s a post that seems to appear every week in early childhood Facebook groups, a familiar plea from a newly appointed educational leader:

“Help! I’ve just been made the educational leader, and I don’t know where to start. Does anyone have a template or checklist they can share?”

What follows is usually a flood of generous responses: reflective journals, compliance checklists, policy review templates. All well-intentioned, yet somehow, they miss what I think is a really important point. The role of the educational leader is about influencing thinking, inspiring practice, and cultivating curiosity. 

Somewhere along the way, the role of educational leader has been neatly filed under ‘compliance’ and stripped bare of the relational and soul-deep purpose that this role so desperately needs and deserves.

Walking Into the Rhythm

When I first stepped into my current service almost five years ago, I found myself in a rhythm that was steady, predictable, and deeply ingrained. Many of the educators had worked together for over a decade, and some had worked in the service before qualifications were even required. They had established strong relationships with families, and their routines were so consistent you could almost set your watch by them.

And then there was I, a first time nominated supervisor, but a former educational leader. I arrived wide eyed, hopeful, and eager to make a difference. There was only one problem: no one wanted change. For this team, routine felt safe and familiar; for me, comfort was the quiet enemy of growth.

I’ll never forget the moment an educator told me she didn’t use the work of early childhood theorists in any of her practices because she felt their work wasn’t relevant. Her words stopped me in my tracks. In that instant, I felt the subtle weight of resistance begin to settle in. It wasn’t defiant or hostile, but quiet and deeply ingrained.

Somewhere along the way, that resistance made me unconsciously take a sideways step, away from leading and into managing. Programs were written, reflections completed, and the environment immaculate. Yet beneath the surface, something was missing. It was my realisation that I was managing and not leading that I finally understood: the work ahead wasn’t going to be about systems or structures. It was about shifting thinking. It was about changing the mindset of the team and perhaps, my own.

Rethinking the Role: from Expert to Inquirer.

In my early days of leadership, I thought it was about having answers to any questions that would come my way. However, I have discovered the opposite: posing the right questions is the catalytic act. The National Quality Framework defines educational leadership as the act of guiding and supporting educators. To me, this doesn’t mean telling staff they are behind in their documentation and a firm reminder that they need to catch up and more about fostering conditions where others feel supported, safe to think deeply, to question practice, and to take intellectual risks.

Adults learn differently from children. They bring history, expertise, and identity into every conversation. When leadership reduces them to checklists and compliance tools, it diminishes their agency. But when leadership leans into inquiry, when it asks, what do you think? what do you notice? what might happen if…? It creates space for professional growth to emerge collaboratively.

This kind of leadership is only possible where trust exists. Not the superficial kind printed on a poster in the staff room, but the kind that allows people to admit uncertainty without fear, to be wrong without consequence, and to wonder without restraint.

That’s where transformation begins.

Moving Through Resistance and Fatigue

Any kind of change is rarely dramatic. It happens quietly, over time, often disguised as hesitation or fatigue.

In my first year as a nominated supervisor, resistance sometimes felt like rejection. Educators would say, “I don’t know how,” or “I’m not good at documentation,”. I learned that resistance is rarely defiance; it’s protection. Beneath it lies the deep exhaustion of fear of failure, fear of exposure, or simply from years of just the right amount of work to get by.

So, I shifted my approach. Instead of trying to convince, I tried to connect.

I stopped setting large, sweeping goals and started paying attention to small, human moments. I sat beside an educator who dreaded observations. Instead of demanding one, we simply watched the children together and talked through play as we saw it unfolding jotting down what we noticed. With another educator, who was scared of technology, I showed her how to print a single photo from the iPad so she could contribute to the program; that simple moment of participation reignited her confidence.

For a team member overwhelmed by writing, I introduced simple word banks and sentence starters to ease their fear of ‘getting it wrong’. When someone asked for more programming time, I gave it, recognising that flexibility fosters trust far better than deadlines. With one educator, we created a visual chart so she could physically tick off her work, a small act that helped her feel organised and in control again.

None of these gestures was extraordinary, but they were deeply human. Over time, these small acts became the scaffolding for trust. And once trust began to grow, curiosity and the big picture stuff I first envisaged weren’t far behind.

An Invitation to Lead Differently

If you’ve been handed the title of Educational Leader and you’re craving something deeper than compliance, begin not with answers but with questions. Ask one question that truly matters and sit with it longer than feels comfortable. Invite one colleague to research with you. Replace performance reviews with conversations that explore why we do what we do. Document not just outcomes, but observations of growth and the gradual shifts in thinking, the moments of risk-taking, and the sparks of curiosity that reappear when people feel seen.

Leadership, in this sense, is not about control; it’s about creating the conditions where people can rediscover their professional agency.

What Leadership Really Means

To me, leadership isn’t about titles, hierarchy, or authority. Leadership is an act of servitude.

It’s showing up on the hard days, cleaning the bathroom when staff are busy with the children, stepping in when a staff member needs to tap out. It’s asking your staff what they need before asking if they have delivered. It is giving credit freely and taking responsibility quietly. True leadership doesn’t seek recognition. It doesn’t control. It listens deeply, moves thoughtfully, and acts with integrity.

So, when the paperwork piles high and the noise of compliance threatens to drown out purpose, return to curiosity and let it be your compass. Because the real work of educational leadership isn’t about answers, it’s about influence. And if you’re searching for a mantra to guide your journey, let it be this:

Leadership is less about having answers and more about having the courage to keep asking.