I've had more conversations this week than normal about how hard it is to make change happen, particularly with teachers who've been in the same job at the same school teaching the same course for a long time.

The slightest whiff of change, and they baulk. "My results are great, I've done it this way successfully for years... who are you to know that the alternative is better?"

Meanwhile, their kids are sat listening, passive, for hour after hour of lesson. They're successful in spite of the pedagogical choice of the educator.

The Ancient Greek work κρίσις (krisis) doesn't necessarily signify danger. It means that we're at a turning point, a point where we must make a decision.

If you feel some danger, some fear just now, then it's likely because a decision has been made to turn in a direction you weren't prepared to head. It's the consequence of the turning point, rather than the decision itself, that bring you discomfort and fear.

Either the decision is right, and you've got some relearning to do.

Or the decision is wrong, and it's going to be painful. A crisis, in the Anglo-Saxon sense of the word.

So how do you know if the decision is right or wrong? You go back to the shared reason you all have for being there.

What matters to your organisation most? What's its purpose?

The answer should be easy: it should be contained in your organisation’s statement of purpose or its mission.

The current set of crises are up front and centre, and they’re all fighting for our attention. Climate, health, race, and economic challenges are all crises we have failed to address over some time, and we are now at the point where we must take decisions. They’re all at the point where we can make a positive difference and improve our world. But equally, we could get it wrong, collectively, and make matters worse.

We’re also seeing more tired leadership teams, tanks half-empty, with uncertainty ahead. This is more than challenging for a group of professionals who were beginning to enjoy, once more, that sensation of "planability".

So when you’re short of time, energy, economic security, safety, and certainty, how on earth do you guide the quick decision-making that we need?

You go to your purpose. Every time.

But all too often, missions in the world of learning and education are full of truisms, platitudes, and clichés.

The mission statement on the left is an amalgam of about six schools. The one on the right is the plain opposite of it. Nobody sets out to create that school (although some manage to achieve it without trying).

Your purpose should have an opposite that is an equally sensible promise, but just not for your school. That means you made a choice. That means you agreed on something. That means your community came a decision on how to act.

The best time to rethink your purpose was some time that wasn't now, in a time of such flux and uncertainty, with a cool head, and your whole community behind you. It’s what we’ve done for years with organisations. And when the latest crisis hit the fan, those organisations who embraced their renewed purpose were well-placed to focus on just one thing: fulfilling their reason for being.

The second best time to rethink your purpose is now. If the students in your school or the staff in your remote offices cannot remember the wording of your purpose, and don’t know how it translates into their own daily decision-making, ditch the perspex plaque on the wall and start again.

But use this as an opportunity to bring your community together, not to rewrite it in your home office. Bring your community together in events, celebrations, design sessions and interviews, to understand what makes your school or organisation so special. And then engage with a fresh pair of eyes - a critical friend from outside - to make sense of it with you.

When you craft a mission in Plain English, one that’s both memorable and usable as a daily decision-making tool, then you’ll have activated your entire community to cope with the κρίσις, or “danger at the point of juncture”.