I was recently reflecting on what it really means to serve as a school governor or trustee and found myself returning to a familiar thought: this is one of the most valuable volunteer roles in our communities, yet it is also one of the most quietly demanding. There is something deeply admirable about people willingly giving their time, experience and care to support schools and trusts, not for reward or recognition, but because they want to make a difference to children and young people both now and for years to come. And yet, for all the respect rightly shown to the role, I sometimes wonder whether we pay enough attention to the people behind it - the volunteers themselves, their capacity, their confidence and their wellbeing.
When we talk about wellbeing in education, the conversation quite rightly tends to focus on pupils and staff. Staff wellbeing is crucial to the success of any school because it supports retention, relationships, culture and ultimately better outcomes. But it seems to me that much of that same thinking can and should be extended to governors and trustees too. If wellbeing is about our sense of how we are doing - not just physically or mentally, but in terms of our relationships, confidence and resilience - then those who govern schools need to be part of that conversation as well.
The truth of governance is that it can appear deceptively straightforward from the outside. Many people step into the role because they care about education, want to give something back and feel they have useful skills to offer. All of that is true and important, but as I reflected in our volunteering blog, whatever skills we bring with us will almost certainly need some adjustment for the unique world of education. Professional expertise does not always survive first contact with the realities of school life in quite the way we expect. That process of readjustment is not a barrier, but it is real, and it takes a degree of adaptation to succeed.
That is where the wellbeing conversation begins: with honesty about the role itself. Governance is voluntary, but it is not casual. It involves meetings, reading papers, preparing questions, undertaking training, visiting schools, contributing to committees, panel hearings and keeping pace with changes in guidance and practice. It asks a lot of people who are often already balancing jobs, families and many other responsibilities. In the volunteering blog I described it as “a job of work”, and I think that is important language because it captures something essential: volunteers deserve to be valued not because their role is lighter, but because it is substantial.
This is why governor and trustee wellbeing matters so much. Not because we want to soften the role or remove accountability, but because if we want good governance, we need the conditions in which volunteers can carry out that role well and sustainably. The staff wellbeing blog rightly talks about creating a culture where people are supported, recognised and heard. The same applies to those around the board table. A governor or trustee who feels welcomed, prepared and respected is far more likely to contribute with confidence than one who feels adrift, overloaded or unsure whether they are adding value.
For me, one of the clearest ways to support wellbeing is through induction and development. There is no escaping the fact that training and support are vital if someone is to understand the role and perform it well. That begins with thoughtful induction, ideally a combination of internal welcome and support plus external training, but it must also continue through the wider offer of development, mentoring and peer support. No new board member should feel they are simply handed a stack of papers and expected to keep up. If we want people to thrive in governance, we need to build their confidence carefully and deliberately from the outset.
Workload is another area that cannot be ignored. Governors and trustees should be prepared to commit around 8–12 hours a month across the academic year, and I suspect many reading this will recognise that as a fair estimate, if not occasionally an underestimate. That being the case, boards have a responsibility to use that time well. Just as we would not want our concern for staff wellbeing to unintentionally create extra workload, we should also be careful not to overburden governors and trustees through long unfocused meetings, excessive papers or unclear expectations. Good governance should be organised (preparation is key), strategic and proportionate and making the best possible use of the time volunteers choose to give.
The question of voice is equally important. In thinking about staff wellbeing, I have written about the importance of communication, listening and creating opportunities for concerns to be raised. I think the same principle applies to governance. Board members need to feel able to ask what they may fear is a “basic” question, to say when they do not understand something, or to admit when their capacity is stretched. Chairs, vice-chairs and governance professionals have a particularly important role to play here. The tone they set can make governance feel either supportive and collegiate or intimidating and isolating. A strong board culture is not one where everyone speaks with ease from day one, but one where people are helped to find their voice over time.
Recognition matters too, perhaps more than we sometime realise. One aspect of supporting staff wellbeing is ensuring there is a clear emphasis on ensuring people are seen, heard and respected. Governors and trustees may not seek applause, but they do need to know that their contribution is noticed and valued. A simple thank you, acknowledgement of the work involved in a challenging meeting or panel or simply noticing when someone has gone above and beyond can make a real difference. Governance often happens quietly in the background of school life, but its quietness should never be mistaken for insignificance.
There is also a more personal side to wellbeing: knowing your limits and being honest about them. As confidence grows, many governors and trustees will take on more - a link role, a committee chair, perhaps eventually the chair or vice-chair role itself. That is often part of a healthy governance journey, and boards should absolutely think about succession planning and leadership development. But wellbeing also means recognising when the balance is changing, when life circumstances or priorities have shifted, or when the time may be coming to step back and let others take their turn. There should be no embarrassment in that. Volunteering should stretch us, certainly, but it should not quietly consume us.
Ultimately, I think this comes down to how we choose to see governance. If we see governors and trustees simply as a functional part of school accountability, we may forget the human effort behind the role. But if we are seen for what we really are - committed volunteers trying to do meaningful work in service of children, schools and communities – then supporting wellbeing is a necessary part of sustaining that contribution.
This is the thought I keep returning to the most. School governance is a balancing act: between challenge and support, strategy and scrutiny, commitment and capacity, giving of yourself while knowing where your limits lie. If we want that balancing act to remain possible for the dedicated volunteers who undertake it, then we must pay attention to their wellbeing with the same seriousness and care that we ask them to bring to the wellbeing of others. Because in the end, those who look after our schools deserve to be looked after too.
Jonathan Ellam
