There’s an old English saying that I often mutter when I’m being worn thin by seemingly excessive demands:
“Do you want the moon on a stick?”
This week alone, the question has crossed my mind on at least five occasions in conversations I have shared.
They (parents) say
- We want our children to get the highest grades, AND we also want them to be protected from the competitive and perfectionist system that has created a mental health epidemic for our young people.
- We want the school to prepare our children for the future of AI and exponential technologies, AND we also want them to be device-free.
- We want the school to have the best teachers and facilities AND more value for money.
They (teachers) say
- We want to work in the best schools, AND be paid more, AND have fewer demands from leadership, AND have more time and resources, AND have more flexibility…
They (parents, teachers, students, leaders, and the board) all want things. They have impossible expectations: They all want “the moon on a stick.”
This phrase resonates deeply with me because when we’re expected to be both alchemists and magicians, the pressure to please everyone can feel relentless. It can really get us down.
But what if we leaned into the idea slightly instead of telling people where they could stick that moon?
What if we turned this phrase on its head and tried to reclaim it, not as a critique of unreasonable demands but as a rallying cry to do things differently?
Setting Our Own Expectations
For everything we love about working in schools, the demands are endless: academic progress, safeguarding, wellbeing, parent engagement, curriculum development, DEIJ, feedback, reporting – the list could fill volumes. Often, these expectations are imposed externally, and we work furiously to meet them, regardless of the personal costs, because we know they are each important.
But the challenge is not the striving itself – educators want to make a difference. The problem arises when we feel compelled to meet every expectation simultaneously.
The moon, it seems, must shine for everyone, and the stick must stretch indefinitely.
Perhaps we would be better off defining our own “moon”? What if we focused not on the impossible but on the meaningful?
I wonder if these questions might help:
- What matters most right now? When the noise of demands grows deafening, which priorities truly reflect the needs of our learners and communities?
- What does success look like? Instead of chasing every benchmark, are we celebrating progress that aligns with our values?
- Who’s holding the stick? Effective leadership isn’t about bearing the weight alone. It’s about sharing responsibility and empowering others to play their part.
The Moon is Not a Shortcut
The temptation would be to use these questions as an invitation to lower our expectations. But reframing the moon means pursuing excellence with purpose rather than exhaustion. It’s about recognising that the moon (like every meaningful goal) requires persistence, collaboration, and time.
For school leaders, this might mean stepping away from the temptation to say “yes” to everything. It might mean finding the courage to let go of initiatives that drain more than they deliver. For teachers, it might mean embracing the messy, beautiful reality of incremental progress over perfection. We tell our students this, but how often do we listen to our own advice?
A Metaphor for Our Profession
So, perhaps the idea of the moon on a stick isn’t as absurd as it might seem.
It symbolises the best of what educators do: reaching for what seems out of reach and lifting others to heights they never thought they could achieve. But it also reminds us of the importance of limits, perspective, and care—not just for our students but also for ourselves and our colleagues.
As I see it, we can keep the aspiration of giving people the moon, but we need to hold the stick in a way that sustains us. Like the moon, our light is most valuable when it shines steadily, not when it burns out!
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