People often talk to me about “work-life balance” as though it’s a thing headteachers can just achieve if we try a bit harder. Like it’s a see-saw we can sit neatly astride if only we learn the right techniques.
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But honestly?
In headship, there’s no neat dividing line between “work” and “life”.
They bleed into each other all the time: emails late at night, phone calls during dinner, waking up early worrying about a safeguarding issue or remembering that you forgot to sign a cheque.
Does this sound familiar?
It’s not a complaint — it’s the reality of being deeply invested in a school community. If you care (and most heads do), it’s almost impossible to stop thinking about your school even when you’re off-site.
So maybe the idea of a perfect “balance” isn’t the right goal for headteachers.
Maybe what we really need is not balance, but boundaries.
Why balance is a myth in headship
Balance implies something equal — as if your time, energy, thoughts and emotions can be split precisely between “work” and “life” in a pleasing equilibrium.
But headship doesn’t work like that.
Even when you go home, your phone remains on in case of an incident.
Even when you’re watching TV, your mind drifts back to school staffing pressures or a child you’re worried about.
Even when you’re on holiday, you still mentally draft.
And part of this isn’t just workload — it’s about emotional investment.
When you lead a school, you carry the people in it with you all the time:
That child who’s struggling at home.
That member of staff who’s exhausted and needs support.
That parent who needs reassurance.
How can you not think about them?
So rather than beat ourselves up for not achieving mythical “balance,” what if we asked a different question:
What boundaries do we need to protect our wellbeing while acknowledging that headship is, inevitably, a life-encompassing role?
Boundaries don’t mean disengagement
First things first: setting boundaries doesn’t mean caring less.
In fact, it’s precisely because we care so much that we need boundaries to stop us burning out.
Boundaries mean recognising that:
Not every email needs an instant reply.
Not every evening should be consumed by work.
Not every weekend should disappear into policies and paperwork.
Where do you draw your lines?
Do you have a time after which you stop replying to emails?
Do you give yourself permission to say “no” sometimes — even to well-meaning staff, governors or parents?
The emotional boundary: not carrying everything all the time
One of the hardest boundaries to maintain in headship isn’t time — it’s emotional space.
You can leave the building at 6pm but still carry the emotional load home with you: replaying difficult conversations, worrying about a complaint, thinking about what Ofsted might ask, or reliving that tricky safeguarding meeting.
This is where boundary-setting needs to be deliberate and conscious.
Do you have a routine that helps you put school down — even just for a while?
A walk?
A chat with someone who doesn’t work in education?
A simple ritual like changing clothes or sitting with a cup of tea and closing the laptop lid firmly?
Boundaries aren’t just about diaries — they’re about emotional containment, giving yourself permission to rest, think about other things, and feel like a person outside your role.
When work and life inevitably blur
Of course, even the best boundaries will sometimes fail.
A crisis will happen at 7pm.
A staff member will text about something urgent.
The point isn’t perfection — it’s permission.
Permission to not answer immediately if you don’t have to.
Permission to ask, “Can this wait until Monday?”
Permission to remember that it’s okay to have a life outside your role, even when that role feels consuming.
Do we give ourselves enough permission?
Leading by example: your boundaries shape your culture
As heads, we don’t just model learning or behaviour expectations — we model working patterns.
If we email late at night, others feel they should too.
If we never take time away, others believe they can’t either.
If we apologise for taking a day off or leaving at a reasonable hour, we imply that constant availability is the expectation.
How can we expect staff to prioritise their wellbeing if we won’t protect our own?
Boundaries aren’t just self-care — they’re culture-setting.
What example are you setting for your staff?
Are you modelling humane working patterns — not just preaching them?
The power of the “good enough” headteacher
Part of the pressure behind poor boundaries is the headteacher perfectionism trap:
That feeling that we must be available to everyone, all the time.
That we must meet every expectation immediately.
That we must be endlessly positive, supportive and omnipresent.
But in truth, we are more helpful to our schools when we are “good enough” and well, than when we are striving for perfection and exhausted.
What would it look like if we allowed ourselves to be good enough?
Would we lead differently?
Would we be kinder to ourselves — and by extension, kinder to those we lead?
Practical boundary ideas (without guilt)
Here are some practical boundaries I’ve tried or seen other heads use well:
Email curfew: Setting an evening time after which emails are not read or replied to — and communicating this clearly to staff and governors.
Protected family time: A block of time at weekends where school matters are deliberately ignored.
Device separation: Using a separate work phone (if possible) and turning it off outside working hours unless you’re on call.
“Not available” windows: Even in school, blocking out non-contact time where you are not disturbed unless absolutely necessary.
Rituals for switching off: Walking home, listening to music, even physically writing down your worries at the end of the day and putting them in a drawer.
What practical boundaries have worked for you?
Could you try just one ready for the new term?
Boundaries as an act of leadership
Ultimately, maintaining boundaries isn’t selfish.
It’s leadership.
A burnt-out, exhausted, distracted headteacher isn’t helpful to anyone — however many hours they work.
But a headteacher who protects their energy, their time, and their wellbeing is far more present, calm and effective — for pupils, staff, parents and governors alike.
Boundaries allow us to sustain the emotional labour of headship over time — and that’s how we serve our schools best.
An invitation
So next time you feel guilty for switching off your phone, taking an evening to yourself, or not checking your emails at 9pm, remind yourself of this:
Balance might be impossible — but boundaries aren’t.
And boundaries protect not just you, but everyone who relies on you.
Where will you draw your lines?
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