One of the things that has surprised me most since moving into headship is how rarely people ask a school for something unreasonable. That might sound odd, because schools spend a lot of time talking about pressure, workload and rising expectations. But most requests, taken individually, make perfect sense. A member of staff asks for flexibility because their circumstances have changed. Someone wants time away for an important event. A colleague suggests an opportunity that would be brilliant for the children. Someone wants to volunteer because they would like to give something back. The difficulty is that schools do not get to consider these things individually. Every yes has a cost. Sometimes that cost is obvious: money, staffing or time. More often, it is less visible. A decision creates a precedent. An exception changes what somebody else might reasonably expect. A sensible arrangement for one person can make the wider organisation harder to run. I have found that this is where headship becomes uncomfortable. Take requests for unpaid leave. A member of staff may want to attend an important celebration or wedding that sits outside our policy because it is not for a close family member. They are not asking to be paid. The event matters to them. I understand why they are asking. But I also have to think about what happens when the next request arrives. If I make an exception this time, on what basis do I refuse another equally important event later, when circumstances don’t facilitate the cover for the event? Flexible working Flexible working brings the same tension. A proposed working pattern can make complete sense for someone whose family circumstances have changed. You want to make it work. But across the whole school, it may affect continuity for children, colleagues’ working patterns or our ability to deploy staff where they are most needed. A yes in a meeting still has to work on a wet Tuesday morning in November. Then there are the things we would love to say yes to. We were recently offered a music enrichment opportunity at a local secondary school. It sounded fantastic. The problem was not the value of the experience, but the coach needed to get the children there. We could not reasonably pass the cost on to parents, and there was no spare money in the central budget to cover it. It is difficult to turn down something clearly good for children because the transport makes it unaffordable. But school budgets are full of decisions like that. Wanting something to happen does not make the money appear. The same applies to staffing. Of course I would like more adults working directly with children. There are plenty of moments when another learning support assistant, more pastoral support or another pair of hands would make a tangible difference. But I also have the responsibility for making sure the budget balances beyond this year. That tension does not disappear just because the need is genuine. What about volunteers? Even offers of help can be complicated. People approach schools wanting to volunteer, gain experience or support children. Often the instinct is to say yes. Why wouldn’t we want another enthusiastic adult in school? But volunteers still require safeguarding checks, induction, supervision and staff time. Helping somebody gain experience is worthwhile, but it is not cost-free for the school providing it. None of this has made me want schools to become less ambitious or less human. Quite the opposite. Some of the best things that happen in schools begin with someone asking, “Could we just…?” I want us to keep saying yes to those ideas. But I have become much more conscious of the difference between being responsive and agreeing to everything. Sometimes saying yes avoids an awkward conversation today but creates a harder one tomorrow. So, I am learning to slow the decision down. Listen properly. Understand why the request matters. Look beyond the individual circumstances to the wider consequences. Explain the decision rather than hiding behind policy. And, where circumstances might change, leave room to reconsider it. There is an equity question here too. The people most confident in asking for exceptions should not automatically be the people most likely to receive them. Perhaps this is one of the less glamorous parts of headship: not deciding which ideas are good, but deciding which good ideas a school can fairly and sustainably deliver. The question I increasingly find myself asking is not simply, “Is this a reasonable request?” It is: “Could I defend giving the same answer when the next reasonable request arrives?”