It’s 8:52am. You’ve been at the centre for twenty-two minutes.
In that time, you’ve been asked whether it’s okay to swap the art table for the playdough table (it is), what to do about the parent who didn’t sign the excursion form (call them), and whether the spare nappies in the storeroom belong to Mia or Maya (genuinely unclear, but also not your job to know).
You haven’t had your coffee yet. You have seventeen other things on your mind. And somewhere, in the back of your head, a small voice is asking a question you’re almost afraid to say out loud:
Why does everything come to me?
If that’s you, you’re not alone. And more importantly — it’s not a you problem. It’s a culture problem. And culture problems have culture solutions.
The exhausting myth of the leader who has all the answers. Early childhood education has a tendency to produce extraordinarily capable leaders. People who can de-escalate a toddler meltdown, facilitate a meaningful conversation with a distressed parent, write a curriculum plan, manage a compliance audit, and still remember that Wednesday is Wacky Wednesday, all before lunch.
The problem is that the same capability that makes you brilliant at your job can quietly become the thing that holds your team back.
When you’re good at solving problems, people bring you problems. When you solve them quickly and warmly and well, they bring you more. Before long, your team has learned without anyone deciding this, without a single conversation about it, that the way things get resolved around here is that they come to you.
It feels like trust. It feels like being needed. On a good day, it even feels like leadership.
But it isn’t. Not really.