Asides

When I reflect on my time learing to lead schools, I was fortunate during my time at St Augustine’s Primary School in Coffs Harbour, to meet and speak with Greg Whitby, the then Executive Director of Catholic Education Diocese of Parramatta.. A towering figure in Australian Catholic education, Greg challenged us to rethink everything we thought we knew about schooling. He believed in possibilities beyond tradition. His words, ideas, and courage helped shape the bold decisions I made as a school leader.

Agile Spaces, Agile Minds

One of Greg’s most powerful convictions was that learning spaces had to change if learning itself was to evolve. He spoke often of dismantling the outdated “cells and bells” approach and replacing it with open, agile environments. Spaces that welcomed collaboration. Spaces that invited innovation.

At St Augustine’s, we embraced that vision. We moved from the old model, “one teacher, one class, one room” into co-teaching hubs where walls gave way to movement, flexibility, and shared practice. Backed by the BER (Building the Education Revolution) program and community support, we undertook a multimillion-dollar transformation. What emerged were learning hubs filled with light, purpose, and possibility.

More than the physical shift, it was about culture. The message was clear: teaching was no longer private work. Greg’s influence gave me the confidence to open the doors and build a community of learners, teachers and students alike.

Shaping the Future of Learning

Greg never settled for small tweaks. He called for transformation. He urged us to reimagine teaching in a way that aligned with the world our students were entering, not the one we grew up in.

At St Augustine’s, this meant creating a culture where inquiry, technology, and deep engagement became the norm. Our short film, The Future of Learning, captured that journey: traditional classrooms gave way to spaces of experimentation and digital exploration.

Greg’s voice echoed throughout: “Technology is not the end. It is the means.” We used tech not as a gimmick, but as a tool to empower learners, connect ideas, and solve problems. And we kept student growth at the centre of every decision. That was Greg’s challenge and his gift to us.

Teaching Gen Wi-Fi

Greg’s term “Gen Wi-Fi” captured a generational truth. Our students were wired differently. Fast, connected, curious. They didn’t need static content, they needed relevance.

So we let go of the traditional model of teaching and built something more dynamic. Students worked in teams, took ownership of their learning, and explored real-world problems. Inspired by Hattie’s Visible Learning and Sharratt’s Clarity Learning Suite, we reshaped our teaching to focus on growth, not grades.

Teachers became mentors. Classrooms became hubs of purpose. We stopped asking students to sit still and started asking them what mattered to them. That shift, driven by Greg’s vision, changed everything.

Growing Teachers to Grow Schools

Greg also believed deeply that student success was built on teacher success. “Professional capital,” he’d say, “is the key to transformation.” That insight shaped my strategy at St Augustine’s and formed my approach to leading schools.

We developed a teacher performance and development framework grounded in collaboration, not compliance. Teachers became researchers. They trialled ideas, reflected on outcomes, and shared openly.

We restructured the timetable to give teachers time to plan, learn, and grow together. We invested in coaching. We encouraged risk-taking in the service of professional growth. And as Greg always reminded us—when teachers grow, students grow.

Carrying the Vision Forward

While we learn of the news of Greg Whitby’s passing, his legacy is alive in every school that dares to be bold. From my days at St Augustine’s, through to leading the Aoba school group in Japan, I carry his vision every day. I see it in students working side by side, solving problems with joy. I see it in teachers collaborating with trust and pride.

Greg gave us a framework and the courage to lead transformational change. His legacy reminds all of us that education must never stand still. We owe it to our students to keep moving forward, keep reimagining, and keep building schools where possibility lives.

Vale Greg Whitby

Creating a robust instructional coaching culture stands as one of the most effective strategies for sustainable school improvement and teacher professional growth. Research consistently shows that well-implemented coaching programmes can enhance teaching practices, raise student outcomes, and strengthen collaborative learning across the school.

Understanding Instructional Coaching Culture

An instructional coaching culture encompasses the shared beliefs, practices, and structures that support ongoing professional learning through partnerships between coaches and teachers. At its heart lies trust, collaboration, and a commitment to reflective practice, extending beyond individual coaching conversations to become part of the school’s DNA.

The foundation of this culture rests on key principles: job-embedded professional development, reflective practice, and collaborative inquiry. Unlike traditional professional development, coaching offers personalised, sustained support that meets the unique needs of each teacher while building collective capacity for improvement.

Key Components of an Effective Coaching Culture

Leadership and Administrative Support
The role of the principal is pivotal. Leaders set the tone, allocate time, and provide resources for coaching to thrive. Research shows that principals who build cultures of trust and respect through clear, individualised support can lift teacher self-efficacy, particularly in engaging students. Leadership support means protecting coaching time, communicating its purpose clearly, and modelling collaborative practice.

Integration with Professional Learning Communities
Strong coaching cultures often grow from robust professional learning communities (PLCs). Here, teachers work together to reflect on student learning, share practice, and solve problems. When coaching is woven into these communities, its impact is multiplied. Collaborative dialogue, informal peer coaching, and shared observations all help create an environment where professional growth becomes the norm.

Structured Coaching Processes
Effective coaching cultures establish consistent, transparent coaching cycles. These typically include observation, reflection, goal-setting, and follow-up support. While providing structure, these cycles remain flexible enough to address the needs of individual teachers. Skilled coaches adapt their approach to teachers’ experience, subject focus, and development priorities. Research points to coaches who balance expertise with a collegial approach as most effective in driving improvement.

Implementation Strategies

Building Trust and Relationships
Trust is the bedrock of coaching. Schools must take time to build relationships and position coaching as supportive rather than evaluative. Teachers need confidence that coaching conversations are confidential and distinct from formal performance management.

Evidence suggests that teacher experience matters less than professional growth mindset and institutional backing. In other words, with the right conditions, coaching cultures can succeed across a wide range of teaching staff.

Capacity Building and Training
Sustainable success demands high-quality training. Coaches need to develop mentoring skills, while teachers require support in engaging with coaching processes. Leaders, too, must build skills in adult learning theory and strategies for supporting teacher growth. Training should be ongoing, practice-focused, and responsive to feedback.

Addressing Common Challenges
Several predictable challenges arise in building a coaching culture:

• Organisational challenges: lack of time, competing demands, and resource constraints
• Relationship challenges: resistance to change, limited trust, or confusion about roles
• Teacher learning challenges: reluctance to receive feedback or other professional pressures

Schools can meet these challenges through clear communication, patient relationship-building, and prioritising coaching in school systems.

Measuring Success and Sustaining Impact

Evidence of Impact
Strong coaching cultures share common indicators of success:

• Increased use of evidence-based teaching practices
• Higher student engagement and achievement
• Greater teacher confidence and professional dialogue
• Enhanced collaboration across the school

Sustaining Over Time
Sustainability depends on ongoing leadership support, continued professional development, and regular review of coaching practice. Statewide networks and collaborative partnerships can also sustain momentum, providing opportunities to share resources and effective approaches.

Overcoming Barriers

• Time pressures: Protect coaching time by reviewing timetables, reallocating professional learning hours, or adjusting priorities
• Cultural resistance: Address fears and misconceptions through transparent communication, gradual roll-out, and celebrating early successes
• Role confusion: Maintain clarity on coaching roles, expectations, and boundaries through regular dialogue and training

Building Towards Excellence

Developing an instructional coaching culture is not a one-off initiative but a sustained journey. It takes leadership, resources, and strategic planning. Yet the rewards are clear. Schools with strong coaching cultures see improved teacher practice, better student outcomes, and a richer sense of professional community.

By investing in trust-building, structured processes, and meaningful professional learning, schools can transform their cultures. The benefits flow not only to teachers but also to the students who stand at the heart of our mission.

When a school community commits to coaching, it creates the conditions for excellence to take root and flourish.

When was the last time a routine Parent-Teacher meeting truly changed the course of a child’s learning journey?

We often place parent–teacher meetings on a pedestal as a cornerstone of parent engagement. Yet in practice, they have become routine, predictable, and transactional. The research is clear: genuine family involvement has the power to lift student achievement and well-being, but only if it is authentic and sustained. A Monash University study puts it plainly: conventional practices, such as parent–teacher meetings and quick check-ins, do not shift learning outcomes. In other words, simply “showing up” is no substitute for building true partnership.

Too often, these meetings settle into a scripted pattern. Teachers deliver standard talking points about grades or behaviour, and parents listen politely, with little opportunity for authentic dialogue or meaningful contribution. Conversations skim the surface, touching on test scores or attendance, but rarely shaping a purposeful plan for next steps. The result is a process that serves compliance requirements rather than the child’s growth and potential.

These meetings typically centre what the system values. That is grades, punctuality, conformity rather than what children themselves value, such as curiosity, confidence, interests, and well-being. In many cases, parent–teacher meetings place the report card at centre stage, sending the message that marks matter more than genuine learning. Little space is given to exploring a child’s strengths, passions, or social-emotional development. For families, it can feel less like a conversation about who their child is becoming, and more like a justification for where their child stands.

There is also a subtle double standard at play. Parents who nod along are labelled “supportive,” while those who question or push for detail risk being seen as “difficult.” That climate can silence valid concerns and undermine trust. Authentic partnership is not built on agreement alone, but on honest, respectful dialogue even when it feels uncomfortable. And many teachers will agree: truly reciprocal dialogue in these meetings remains the exception rather than the norm.

Perhaps the biggest flaw in traditional P/T meetings is the absence of the student. These meetings can treat children as if learning happens to them rather than with them. Stronger models shift that perspective. Some educators use the metaphor of a three-legged stool, where the teacher, parent, and student each uphold the child’s success. Student-led conferences, for example, invite children to share their goals, challenges, and progress, placing their voice at the centre of the conversation. Research and lived experience both show that empowering students to share their story transforms these sessions into meaningful three-way partnerships, and moves the dialogue from a performance review toward a growth conversation.

Moving beyond the ritual means redesigning the meeting itself. Instead of a one-way report, why not co-design the agenda? Teachers could invite parents to share questions or priorities in advance, shaping the focus together. From there, families and teachers can co-create goals and action plans, clarifying what each person will contribute to help the child thrive. These plans might include strategies for home, learning check-ins, or agreed milestones. It also means looking beyond letter grades and discussing growth in confidence, social skills, or passions alongside academic indicators. When challenging issues come up such as behaviour, learning gaps, or anxiety, they deserve to be addressed directly, with honesty and empathy, rather than brushed aside.

When done well, parent–teacher meetings can strengthen trust and partnership. They can focus on the whole child and model joint problem-solving. One experienced teacher described how avoiding “problem-dumping” and showing belief in a child’s potential helps parents feel genuinely heard and hopeful. By contrast, a defensive or one-sided tone leaves families feeling disconnected and disempowered.

So the real question remains: if a parent–teacher meeting is not truly about the child’s growth, then who is it for? Our goal should be to move away from defending systems and toward authentic partnership for every learner. That means designing meetings with parents and students, fostering genuine dialogue, and prioritising long-term growth over short-term compliance.

Next time you sit down for a parent–teacher meeting, pause and ask yourself: is this conversation really about supporting the child in front of us, or is it just fulfilling a ritual? That answer will decide whether you light a spark or simply tick a box.

As educators, we are bound by a moral purpose: to serve children first. That mission goes beyond the curriculum. It rests on the conditions we build for learning to flourish. Collective responsibility in education means we cannot simply look upward to leadership when something goes wrong; rather, we must look inward, and outward, to each other.

It is easy, in moments of frustration, to step back and lay blame. To see leadership as the sole agent of change while we stand by, passive and powerless. But teaching has never been passive. It is an act of intention, of courage, and of persistence. Shifting from criticism to contribution, from complaint to action, demands a certain bravery.

Too often, the loud chorus of “this is not good enough” drowns out the gentler question, “How can I help?” In a school where collective responsibility in education is truly alive, teachers see themselves as co-authors of progress. Every policy, every initiative, and every new idea gain strength when staff choose to look for possibilities rather than excuses to disengage.

The Power of Positive Challenge

Of course, critique matters. Questions are vital. But a healthy culture depends on challenge delivered with respect, anchored in personal accountability. Blame can corrode trust, while solution-seeking builds it. When we step forward to offer even a small answer, we place ourselves on the side of hope. That choice, simple as it seems, can transform a staffroom.

So next time you sense the urge to complain, pause. Ask yourself:

• What do I believe could be better?
• How might I help to make it better?
• Who can I partner with to make that change real?

Choosing to Act

Collective responsibility in education is not about ignoring what is broken. It is about refusing to be defined by what is broken. No leadership team, however visionary, can transform a school alone. The real work lives in the hands of its teachers: those who choose to step into the arena, to stand for possibility, and to lead from wherever they are.

That, in the end, is our true commitment. To be part of the solution. To lift our gaze from problems to potential. And to remind ourselves, day after day, why we stepped into this work in the first place.

In schools around the world, a quiet shift is taking place. It’s not a mass resignation. There are no farewell speeches or final lessons. Instead, it’s more subtle. More silent. Teachers are showing up, teaching their lessons, fulfilling their duties—and then going home. No extra clubs. No unpaid meetings. No staying late to mark. This is what’s become known as quiet quitting.

Quiet quitting in education doesn’t mean teachers have stopped caring. It means they’re overwhelmed. Faced with rising demands and diminishing resources, many are drawing clear boundaries. They’re choosing to protect their wellbeing by doing exactly what’s in their contract—nothing more, nothing less.

Why Now?

This isn’t entirely new. Teaching has long been a profession that demands more than it gives. But the COVID-19 pandemic brought simmering issues to a boil.

Remote learning ballooned workloads. Student needs became more complex. Accountability measures intensified. Teachers were hailed as heroes in one breath and buried under administrative tasks the next. It’s no surprise that many began to disengage—not from their students, but from a system that no longer felt sustainable.

In Australia, nearly half of all teachers have considered leaving the profession. Similar trends are playing out globally. Those who stay often find themselves stepping back emotionally, not out of apathy, but as a survival strategy.

What Are the Consequences?

The effects are real. When teachers withdraw, students feel it. Learning becomes less rich. Mentorship fades. The spark that makes school a meaningful place for young people begins to dim.

Teachers feel the cost too. Most entered the profession driven by passion, purpose, and a belief in the power of education. Doing the bare minimum cuts against their identity. It creates a moral tension—between wanting to do more and needing to do less to stay afloat.

And school culture suffers. Collaboration becomes compliance. Staffrooms grow quieter. The energy that fuels innovation and growth begins to stall.

What Can Be Done?

While the symptoms of quiet quitting are serious, so too is the response. Across systems, there is growing recognition that teacher burnout must be addressed—not just managed.

Some schools are redesigning the work itself. Evidence-based practices like explicit instruction and structured curricula are helping reduce teacher workload while improving student outcomes. Others are reallocating time—offering additional planning hours, reducing pointless paperwork, and streamlining meetings.

Wellbeing initiatives are on the rise. From counselling services and peer mentoring to protected non-contact time, these aren’t perks—they’re necessities. Crucially, strong school leadership plays a central role. Principals who listen, adjust expectations, and celebrate staff contributions are helping to turn the tide.

Rethinking the System

If we want to reverse the quiet retreat of teachers, we must look beyond individual interventions. This is about rethinking the system.

We need to redesign accountability models that trust teachers rather than monitor them to exhaustion. We need to strip back administrative burdens that do little to support student learning. We need to raise salaries to reflect the complexity and value of the work. And we must honour the invisible labour that happens outside school hours—lesson planning, emotional support, phone calls home.

At its heart, quiet quitting is a call for respect. It is a reminder that our teachers are not just deliverers of curriculum—they are human beings whose passion fuels the entire education system.

The Way Forward

Re-engaging our teachers will take time. But the path forward is clear. We must value teachers not only in words but in action. That means trusting them, supporting them, and investing in their growth.

When we do, we begin to rebuild a culture where teachers can thrive—not just survive. And in doing so, we ensure better outcomes not only for educators, but for every student in their care.

It arrives every year with clockwork certainty. Like a tide that cannot be held back, the final weeks of the school year surge forward—hectic, relentless, and somehow always catching us off guard. No matter how carefully we plan, how many calendars we colour-code, or how early we begin preparations, the last month in schools is a breathless sprint. Report cards, graduations, performances, parent meetings, staff transitions, and curriculum mapping all converge in a perfect storm of deadlines and expectations.

We nod knowingly, call it “just the way schools are,” and brace ourselves.

But beneath the surface of logistical overwhelm lies something more human, more complex. This isn’t simply a problem of poor planning. It’s a seasonal mirror reflecting the emotional labour of educators—the unacknowledged cost of caring deeply, year after year, child after child.

I’ve come to see this time not as disorganisation, but as emotional compression. We are trying to tie a year of growth into a bow. We are trying to honour each learner’s journey while already imagining who they’ll become next year. We are grieving a little, celebrating a lot, and carrying invisible burdens few ever name.

The late Dr Roland Barth once wrote, “The nature of relationships among the adults within a school has a greater influence on the character and quality of that school… than anything else.”

During these final weeks, those relationships are tested and tender. Patience thins. Frustrations surface. Our capacity to give is stretched just as our reserves run dry. And often, the language we use to explain the chaos—“It’s just that time of year”—masks what is truly at stake: identity, belonging, and the deep moral purpose of teaching.

A metaphor I often return to is that of a stage curtain. As the school year closes, the curtain is falling on one act—but backstage, everyone is rushing to change the set for the next. The audience sees the performance. Only those behind the curtain understand the chaos. And yet, we keep showing up—cue after cue—because we believe the work matters.

In our rush to “wrap things up,” we risk devaluing the heart work that has been happening all year. We turn people into checklists, learning into grading, and farewells into functions. But what if we paused? What if we asked: What do these final weeks reveal about our culture, our priorities, and our assumptions about success?

It’s time we stopped pretending the end of the school year is merely a logistical challenge. It’s a cultural rite of passage—one that deserves care, reflection, and grace. Time to spend together and celebrate.

Let us give one another permission to feel the weight of this moment. Let us allow space for teachers to linger in the hallway with a student they won’t teach again. Let us hold meetings not just for data, but for storytelling. Let us remember that closure is not a task—it’s a transition.

Empathy must lead us. Not only for our students, who sense the shift and need our steadiness, but for ourselves, too. Because to teach is to be fully human. And to end well is not about perfect planning—it’s about finishing with presence, purpose, and heart.

And that, perhaps, is the permission slip we need most.