How to build a mandate for change (when no one’s asking for one)
No crisis? No permission? No problem.
I am not a headteacher. I haven’t sat in the seat. But over the past few years, I’ve worked closely with many who have as they navigate the early, delicate months of headship.
So this piece—like all of the rest—isn’t written from the perspective of someone who’s led a school but from someone who’s had the privilege of standing alongside those who have. It draws together patterns I’ve seen, stories I’ve heard, and ideas I’ve borrowed from other fields.
I find this particular leadership challenge so fascinating—and increasingly so—because it sits in a grey space where nothing is urgently wrong, but not much feels urgently right either…
I think it asks something harder of leaders than any crisis could: to act not out of necessity, but out of conviction. To make a case for change before anyone else sees the need; to toy with the tension between what is and could be.
It’s written as a short piece of stimulus for heads taking on schools where nothing is obviously ‘broken.’ Where outcomes are middling. Where staff are settled. Where the surface is calm. And yet you know, deep down, that the school could be so much more.
In these contexts, establishing a mandate for change can feel strangely harder than in a struggling school. There’s no fire to put out. No urgency to rally around. But you still want to raise the bar. This piece is about how to do that: how to build trust, how to start small but smart, and how to create the conditions where change becomes possible (even when no one’s asking for it yet).
Five ways to build a mandate for change
Most leadership frameworks will remind you to articulate a clear vision, engage stakeholders, and develop a strategic plan. And rightly so. But in coasting organisations, where there’s no urgent need to change, these tools can only take you so far.
The steps below are designed to supplement—not replace—all of that good stuff we already know. They’re not sequential. You can start anywhere. But each of them will, hopefully, help you create the conditions for a change to take root.
1️⃣ Design for the edges, not the centre
If you only listen to the loudest or most engaged people, there’s every chance you’ll reinforce the status quo.
When leaders are new, it’s natural to gravitate towards the familiar faces: the enthusiastic middle leader, the teacher who’s always first to speak up in meetings, the steady presence on the SLT. These voices are critical but often represent the “centre” of the current culture; the ones who are already comfortable.
Instead, deliberately tune into the edges. Seek out the disillusioned middle leader, the quiet but brilliant TA, the member of staff who rarely speaks in meetings but sees everything. Often, these individuals hold hidden insights: about what isn’t working, about where the culture falls short, about what children need that’s currently overlooked.
Design your early listening to reach them. Shadow a student for a day. Hold short, no-agenda coffees with support staff. Use anonymous prompts like, “What do we never talk about here, but should?” You’ll uncover perspectives that will become vital to your mandate.
FWIW, I love how Harrison Littler approached this at St Luke’s CofE School in Exeter. Ask him what he did.
2️⃣ Build early momentum through “moments”, not memos
In the early weeks of headship, there’s a temptation to focus on plans: improvement frameworks, stakeholder briefings, policy audits. All important. But change doesn’t begin with a spreadsheet, it begins with emotion.
Instead of only broadcasting strategy, design a few powerful moments that symbolise what you stand for. It could be something small but emotionally resonant: a handwritten note to every new Year 7 parent. A re-wilded bit of the school grounds with a sign that says, “We noticed this space. And we thought it could be better.” A five-minute story at your first INSET that reminds people why they became teachers in the first place.
These aren’t gimmicks. They’re emotional signposts. As Chip and Dan Heath put it: “Defining moments shape our lives, but we don’t have to wait for them to happen. We can be the authors of them.”
3️⃣ Make your “why” specific enough to be unpopular
Vague values get polite nods. Sharp ones provoke real alignment. This, for me, is non-negotiable.
Most schools have mission statements that everyone agrees with because no one really understands them. Or, everyone interprets them in their own way. But alignment isn’t built through broad ambition—it’s built through decisive focus.
The word ‘decide’ comes from the Latin decidere, which means “to cut off.” Real decisions cut. They smart a bit. They mean saying no to things that other people might still value. And that’s what makes them meaningful.
“Strategy is sacrifice,” they say. It’s not just about what you’ll pursue but what you’ll leave behind. A strong “why” isn’t fluffy. A strong “why” is a sharp edge. It will make some people feel uncomfortable. That’s not a failure, it’s a sign that you’ve actually said something.
For instance, you might say: “At Realtown Academy, we choose character over compliance. Students are expected to think hard, speak honestly, and stand up for what matters—even when it’s difficult.”
Or, “At Realtown High School, we partner with families who want more than good grades. We’re building young people of courage, curiosity, and conscience—not just credentials.”
These are by no means perfect but they’re hopefully edging towards enough specificity to provoke a reaction from you (and strong enough to guide real decisions).
4️⃣ Invest early in informal influencers
Culture changes person by person, not policy by policy.
Every school has its “unofficial governors”, the people others look to before deciding whether to back a new idea. They might not have a leadership title, but they carry enormous social capital. If they roll their eyes in a meeting, others follow suit. If they speak up in support, others lean in.
Map out your informal influence network in the first month. Who do people defer to in the staff room? Who do new teachers ask when they don’t know what to do? Then make a conscious effort to build relationships with them.
Don’t go to them asking for support, ask for insight instead.
Invite them into your thinking. Let them see your working out. Show them you value what they know. If you can earn their curiosity—or even convert their cynicism into skepticism—you’ll have done your change mandate a great service. As Stephen Covey says, “Change happens at the speed of trust.”
5️⃣ Signal what’s changing (and what isn’t)
People resist change when they think everything’s up for grabs.
When you’re new, you’ll feel pressure to make your mark. But too much change, too soon, can backfire. If staff don’t know what you plan to keep, they’ll assume the worst. That creates anxiety, rumour, and resistance.
Instead, be explicit: here’s what we’re keeping. Here’s what I already admire. Here’s what’s working. By naming what isn’t changing, you create stability, which then gives you more room to manoeuvre where it matters.
It’s starting from “what’s strong,” rather than “what’s wrong.” That shift alone can calm nerves, steady the culture, and give your team permission to join you in what comes next.
Creating change without a crisis
There’s no single playbook for headship. But if you’re walking into a school that feels settled, even stagnant, you might find that the challenge isn’t knowing what to change but, rather, creating the conditions for change to even begin.
And that doesn’t start with plans and policies. It starts with people. With purpose and belonging. With careful listening and bold signals. With decisions that cut. With trust, built one quiet conversation at a time.
You don’t need a crisis to create change. But you do need clarity, courage, and a little bit of nerve.