My daughter insisted I watch the McDonalds CEO eating their latest burger. It’s clear he doesn’t eat hamburgers very often. If you’re going to eat your own firm’s burger on the internet, you’d better throw yourself into it. The result is that yet another commercial giant eats away at its soft power.
Schools aren’t exempt. I’ve lost count of the number of schools I’ve walked into where the values are beautifully framed, perfectly kerned, and completely disconnected from what happens five metres away.
You know the kind. A wall declares respect, courage, kindness, excellence. Then, in the next meeting, someone shuts down an awkward question, they make an important decision behind closed doors, or a child’s experience is explained away as an unfortunate exception rather than a useful insight to a change that might need to happen.
Now, I don’t think it’s rampant hypocrisy - nothing that dramatic. Someone agreed on some words, with good intent. But those words were never designed to do any heavy lifting, let alone guide culture every day.
The late Joseph Nye developed the idea of soft power. His argument was simple:
Influence doesn’t come from force; it comes from attraction.
When you create a culture that people want to be part of, that culture is defined by values that are visible in action. In a Governmental sense, it means policies feel legitimate because they line up with what people say they stand for.
That theory for nations should be a daily reality in schools. Every school can have soft power. So many, though, let themselves down in the small stuff.
Unfortunately, too many school reception desks are places I dread visiting. The tone of the person greeting me (or making me feel like I’ve got the wrong address), the high counter and protective glass that is never pushed aside hardly scream ‘welcome’.
Student councils can be places where learning is shaped, or where the extent of their voice is choosing the colour of their new lockers.
Teachers can say ‘hello’ to the stranger at the cafeteria table, or outright ignore him. (Thanks).
Every school’s values show up in small decisions, not just big speeches and posters on the walls. A school’s soft power is generated in how alike those three things are.
Getting those words to reflect the gold in the community today is what makes people want to join you, stay with you, contribute to you, and speak well of you when you’re not in the room.
That kind of influence does not come from branding, posters, or flash websites. It comes from alignment, values that run through people’s attitudes like the words on a stick of rock at a seaside town.
That’s why mission statements and core values really do matter more than many school leaders now feel comfortable admitting. Many schools are sitting on nice posters, reports from happy accreditors and inspectors, and laminated signs.
But they’re not sure whether, really, they are the outward manifestation of what everyone in the community believes you do on your best days.
That’s the test.
On your best day as a school, what is true about how people experience this place? What do adults do instinctively? What do students feel consistently? What do you protect, even when it’s inconvenient? What would people miss if it vanished?
That is where mission and values should come from. Not aspiration detached from reality - leave that to strategy. Not bland language borrowed from three other schools and the people who code your school website.
You should be aiming for the clearest possible expression of the promises you are willing to make to each other. And once those promises are named, they become useful because you then have a measure, a measure against your own word.
Are we doing what we said we would do? Are we behaving in ways that make our values believable? Would a new member of staff recognise our mission from the way meetings are run, or only from the handbook?
This is where many mission statements fail. Not because missions and core values are pointless, but because vague ones are. If your values are muddled, generic, or absent of any real view of the world, they cannot guide a decision. They cannot settle a disagreement. They cannot help a team choose between two decent options. They cannot tell you whether your culture is getting stronger or weaker.
If we say we value belonging, how do new families experience their first month?
If we say we value curiosity, what happens when a teacher tries something that might not work?
If we say we value student voice, where does that voice actually shape policy?
If we say we value wellbeing, what gets removed when workload becomes unsustainable?
Values only become powerful when they survive contact with real life. That’s the soft power test. Do people trust us because what we say and what we do match up?
For some schools, getting that right is strategy enough. They don’t need a five-year plan - they just need some clarity on what they stand for, first. To them, I’d say just spend two years realigning your whole community around a sharper mission and a more demanding set of values. Make the school a better place for everyone before chasing the next big thing.
Rethink how meetings are led, how people are recruited, what gets celebrated. what gets funded, what behaviour is tolerated from high performers, what’s done to support those who struggle, what students are invited to help shape, what stories the school tells about itself.
None of that is cosmetic. It is culture work. Culture work is influence work, and influence work is soft power, the chance to make your corner of the world so much better.
A mission statement worth having is not a slogan. It is a measurable standard.
And core values worth naming are not decorative. They are the evidence you expect to see when your school is being itself, at its best.
If the words don’t change behaviour, they are just words. But if they help a community notice the gap between intention and reality, and close it together, they become something much more powerful.