“Other people, with their differences, can also be right.”
International Baccalaureate Mission Statement
I’ve done a fair bit of school leadership training over the years. None of it led with a chapter on understanding your parents.
Which is peculiar if you think about it. We spend considerable time learning to lead learning, staff, budgets, navigate governance, and handle crises. We study culture, strategy, and change. But the people who will test your judgment most consistently, occupy your thinking most persistently, and occasionally appear in your dreams uninvited – parents – tend to arrive in leadership preparation as an afterthought, if at all.
One day, I might attempt to write that chapter, but until then, this article can serve as a little placeholder.
This piece started at home, not at school.
I’ve been leading parents through the subject options process for their children for years now. I’ve said things like let your kids choose and stick with their passions. I’ve sat across from anxious parents and offered calm, measured guidance. And I’ve always believed every word of it.
But this year, it’s my turn. And wow.
I wanted to jump in. I wanted to stand back. I wanted to let them take the lead, but what do they know? I had opinions about dropping this and taking that. I had questions about the thinking. In my head, I knew what was best for them.
Flashes of Helicopter. Flashes of Tiger. All of it, I told myself, motivated by nothing more than wanting the best for them.
That is where this piece started…thinking of all those parents, all wanting the best for their children, but all approaching the same problem from completely different places and mindsets.
So I thought I would start a taxonomy of parents. Some of these you will recognise, as they are now well embedded in popular culture. The rest I’ve made up, based on what I’ve seen over the years, so perhaps take it with a pinch of salt.
Part 1 — The Taxonomy
The Helicopters
These parents hover just above the situation. They watch closely, ready to descend when needed. The difficulty is not their vigilance; it’s that the landing is sometimes requested before it is required. What they’re really asking: Is my child safe?
The Lawnmowers
These parents clear the path ahead. Obstacles are removed before they are encountered, difficulties smoothed before they are felt. Of course, the intention is kindness, but the question is what gets lost when the path is always clear? What they’re really asking: Can this difficulty be avoided?
The Tigers
These parents hold high expectations. They believe in discipline, effort, and the long game of achievement. They are not always easy to sit across from, but they are rarely wrong about what their child is capable of. What they’re really asking: Are we pushing hard enough?
The Pandas
Who doesn’t love the pandas? Gentler. Warmer. These parents prioritise happiness and emotional wellbeing above almost everything else. They notice when their child is struggling before anyone else does. Sometimes even before the child does. What they’re really asking: Are they okay?
The Auditors
These parents know the policy. They have done their homework. They arrive at meetings with questions already written down and follow up if the answers are incomplete. They are not hostile; they just want precision. What they’re really asking: Can I trust the school?
The Ghosts
Present on paper, but harder to find in practice. They are not necessarily absent through indifference; life is complicated, and we know that silence takes many forms. What they’re really asking: I think we’re fine?
The Resume Builders
These parents curate experiences. Every activity is part of the long game, often aimed somewhere just beyond school. They are planners, and they always have half an eye on the future. What they’re really asking: How will this count later?
The Concierges
These parents manage the details, schedules, deadlines, logistics…life. Everything is carefully organised. They are often the reason things run smoothly, and rarely the reason things go wrong. What they’re really asking: Is everything running smoothly? Are we on track?
The Free-Rangers
These parents step back deliberately. They allow space, are comfortable with risk, and the possibility of getting things wrong. They believe in independence as a form of love, and they are usually right, which can make them difficult to argue with. What they’re really asking: Are they learning to handle life themselves?
The Lighthousers (note: this is where I want to be)
Steady and present, these parents offer guidance without stepping in too quickly. They are visible without being intrusive, available without being overwhelming. In most schools, they are rarer than they should be. What they’re really asking: How do I support without taking over?
Every tendency in this taxonomy is, in its own way, right.
Not because every approach is equally effective (we know that some clearly serve children better than others). But because every one of them is moved by the same thing: a parent’s love for their child, expressed through the particular lens of their own anxiety, their own history, their own hopes. Not mine.
The Helicopter hovers because they love their child. The Tiger pushes because they love their child. The Ghost is absent because (somewhere underneath) they also love their child.
That doesn’t make every behaviour equally useful. But it does make every parent worth understanding.
These are not types. They are tendencies recognisable in certain moments, absent in certain others, and nearly always pure. Most parents will see themselves in more than one.
So, back to my pinch of salt. This is just a field guide. Handle with care.
Part 2 — Tendencies in Action
Two situational possibilities that most schools will recognise.
Scenario A: Technology in Learning. A school updates its approach to technology in learning to make it more structured, more limited, and more intentional.
The Helicopter asks how this will specifically affect their child. They want to know if the transition will be supported and who to contact if problems arise.
The Lawnmower reviews the platforms in use and sends the school a list of potential issues before the rollout begins.
The Tiger approves. Distractions have been tolerated for too long, and they want to know if this will translate into better results.
The Panda hopes the changes won’t add stress and asks whether students have been consulted and whether their voices shaped the decision.
The Auditor requests the policy document. Reads it carefully. Then returns with three specific questions about implementation and one about the review timeline.
The Ghost hears about it at a dinner party three weeks later. Thinks it sounds reasonable.
The Resume Builder wants to know which platforms universities prefer students to be familiar with. Then adjusts expectations accordingly.
The Concierge wants a clear parent guide. One page. With an FAQ.
The Free-Range wonders whether the issue is the technology or how it is being taught. Says this, politely, at the information evening.
The Lighthouse reads the rationale, discusses it with their child, and trusts the school to work through the details.
Here’s another.
Scenario B: AI and Academic Integrity. The school updates its policy. AI assistance in assessments must now be declared. Undeclared use will be treated as plagiarism.
The Helicopter wants a precise definition of AI assistance. Asks whether Grammarly counts. Follows up twice.
The Lawnmower has already found an AI detection tool and suggests that the school adopt it. Attaches a link.
The Tiger supports the policy without hesitation. Students who rely on AI are only cheating themselves.
The Panda worries the policy will create anxiety. Asks whether students will be supported rather than simply penalised.
The Auditor notes that the policy uses the word “may” in three places where it should probably say “will”. Submits written feedback.
The Ghost has not read the policy. Their child has.
The Resume Builder wants to know if a plagiarism flag affects university applications. This is the only question.
The Concierge wants a clear step-by-step guide to what is and isn’t permitted. Preferably one page.
The Free-Range thinks students should be learning to use AI, not hiding from it. Says so at the information evening.
The Lighthouse talks it through with their child. Asks what they think is fair.
Part 3 — The Portrait of a Parent
At this point, it’s important to share that I know parents, myself included, can rarely be characterised in such a simplistic, binary way.
Most parents move between types depending on the issue, the child, the moment, and how much sleep they may have had the night before. The same person who holds back a friendship matter may grip tightly when grades appear. The Lighthouse parent who trusts the school completely in pastoral care may become an Auditor the moment university applications begin.
So we end up with a few composite portraits:
Portrait 1
He has always prided himself on stepping back. Letting them lead. Trusting the process. He has said as much to other parents, many times, from the front of the coffee morning.
Then his own children started making their subject choices.
Suddenly, he had opinions about the balance. Questions about the thinking. A firm view about what the right answer probably was. He wanted to jump in. He wanted to stand back. He cycled between the two, sometimes in the same conversation.
Flashes of Helicopter. Flashes of Tiger. All of it, he told himself, was in their best interests.
He will frame it differently next year.
That’s me.
Portrait 2
He scores himself as Free-Range. Believes in independence, risk, and learning through failure. At home, this is largely true. At school, where other people are making decisions about his child, he becomes an Auditor. He has read the curriculum documentation more carefully than most of the teachers who deliver it. He would be surprised to hear this described as a contradiction.
Portrait 3
She is a Panda with her younger child; warm, attentive, endlessly patient. With her older child, who is quieter and harder to read, she becomes a Helicopter without meaning to. Same parent. Different child. Completely different instincts.
In each case, the tendency that shows up is never a character flaw. Rather, it is love, wearing a different coat.
Part 4 — Leadership Implications
If the taxonomy is to be useful, it’s probably best used to prepare for conversations before they happen.
You cannot satisfy every tendency.
The Helicopter wants more contact. The Ghost wants none. The Tiger wants pressure applied. The Panda wants it eased. The Auditor wants full transparency. The Free-Range wants restraint. These are not just different preferences; some are mutually exclusive.
There is an old truism that applies here: if you try to please everybody, you end up pleasing nobody.
Schools that shape their communication around whichever tendency is loudest that week will find themselves constantly repositioning, and parents, whatever their type, can sense inconsistency. The Auditor loses faith, the Helicopter escalates, and even the Lighthouse starts to wonder.
What you can do instead.
Articulate clearly what you believe. Apply it consistently. Communicate it honestly, and always, visibly, in the service of children (and the mission of the school if you are lucky enough to have such a north star).
That is what makes trust possible. It is not about agreement all the time. Nor is it about satisfaction all the time. This is a trust business.
And trust, once built, gives every parent in this taxonomy – the Tiger, the Ghost, the Panda, the Resume Builder – enough of a foundation to say: I may not like this decision, but I believe it was made with my child in mind.
What they’re really asking.
Every parent in this ‘field guide’ is asking something beneath the surface. The Helicopter is not really asking about the technology policy; they are asking whether their child is safe in your hands. The Resume Builder is not really interrogating the university counselling service; they are asking whether you understand what is at stake for their family.
We have to hear the question beneath the surface and respond to that, not just to what is on the surface.
The Lighthouse is the goal, but not the baseline.
Leaders sometimes design parent engagement around the assumption that most parents are Lighthouses – reflective, collaborative, trusting. Some are. Many are not, or cannot be, in the moment that matters. It’s naive of me to think it will be that way.
So we have to hold genuine warmth for ALL of these tendencies.
Because every one of them is a version of the same thing: a parent trying to do right by their child with imperfect information and high stakes.
Parents are not types to be managed. They are people to be understood.
And the place to start is always the same: whatever tendency you are looking at,
love put it there.
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