What school leaders can learn from 2026 Nobel Prize winner Anne Carson

There is something deeply disturbing about a society that celebrates knowledge but often fails to recognise wisdom, rewards seniority but overlooks experience, and promotes people into leadership positions only for them to become blind to the very people they are supposed to lead. We have created institutions where titles matter more than understanding, assumptions replace inquiry, and familiarity is mistaken for knowledge. Sometimes, the most important leadership lessons do not come from prestigious boardrooms, international conferences or expensive management courses. They emerge from the most unexpected places—even a boxing ring.

A recent article in *Inc.* by Nick Hobson draws attention to a powerful lesson associated with Anne Carson, a Canadian poet and classicist who was awarded the 2026 Nobel Prize in Literature on October 8. Her three-word philosophy is remarkably simple: “Notice small things.” Yet these three words challenge some of the most deeply entrenched habits in our workplaces, schools, businesses and public institutions.

Carson reportedly discovered this lesson through an experience that required her to confront her own assumptions. After disclosing that she had Parkinson's disease, she took up boxing as a form of therapy in a class attended by other people living with the condition. Initially, she viewed her fellow participants through the lens of her intellectual background. She was an accomplished academic who had read extensively, while they appeared to have little in common with her.

It would have been easy to dismiss them as people who could not possibly offer her anything intellectually meaningful. But she gradually abandoned that attitude and began to appreciate their individuality. She discovered that people who initially appeared different from her possessed their own unique qualities, personalities and capacities for kindness.

The transformation was not necessarily in the people around her. It was in the way she observed them.

That distinction carries an important lesson for anyone who occupies a position of authority. Sometimes, the greatest obstacle to understanding other people is not their inability to communicate; it is our unwillingness to observe them without prejudice.

In many workplaces, employees are reduced to convenient labels. One is described as difficult, another as lazy, another as rebellious and another as unreliable. Once a label is attached, everything the employee does is interpreted through that predetermined judgement. A legitimate complaint becomes insubordination. A thoughtful question becomes resistance to change. An independent idea becomes a threat to authority.

The manager no longer sees an individual. They see a category.

Schools are not immune to this dangerous culture. Teachers can be classified as loyalists, rebels, favourites, troublemakers or members of particular camps. Instead of examining their professional contributions, administrators may judge them by their relationships with management or their willingness to agree with those in power.

A teacher who questions a decision is not necessarily disrespectful. A teacher who disagrees with the principal is not automatically disloyal. Equally, a teacher who agrees with everything management says is not necessarily competent. The real test should be professional integrity, performance, conduct and contribution to the institution.

Unfortunately, once labels take root, merit becomes a casualty. The organisation loses the opportunity to benefit from people whose abilities are hidden behind management's prejudices.

The problem becomes even more serious when the people making these judgements occupy senior positions. Leaders often believe that years of working with someone automatically translate into understanding that person. But familiarity is not the same as knowledge. A manager may have supervised an employee for ten years without ever understanding what motivates them, what frustrates them or what prevents them from performing at their best.

The danger is that leaders become increasingly confident in their assumptions while becoming less curious about the people they lead. They stop asking questions because they believe they already know the answers.

This is particularly damaging in education, where the quality of leadership directly affects teachers, learners and the wider school community. A principal who assumes that a struggling teacher is simply incompetent may overlook inadequate teaching resources, excessive workloads, personal difficulties or poor institutional support. A school director who interprets every staff complaint as disloyalty may fail to identify legitimate problems that threaten staff morale and organisational performance.

The consequences extend beyond individual employees. When people discover that management has already made up its mind about them, they stop speaking honestly. They become cautious, withdraw their ideas and learn to tell leaders what they want to hear. Eventually, the institution develops a culture of silence in which problems remain hidden until they become crises.

Noticing small things is therefore not merely an exercise in kindness. It is a practical leadership discipline.

A slight change in an employee's behaviour may reveal declining morale. A recurring complaint from parents may expose a weakness in school administration. A small discrepancy in performance data may signal a much larger problem. A junior employee's unusual observation may challenge an assumption that senior managers have accepted for years.

The most dangerous response is to dismiss such signals because they do not fit an established narrative.

This is also why experience, valuable as it is, can become a liability. The longer leaders work within a system, the more likely they are to rely on familiar explanations and established routines. They may reject new ideas because similar proposals failed in the past, without considering whether circumstances have changed. Experience should sharpen judgement, not imprison it.

Effective leaders must therefore cultivate the humility to look again, listen carefully and question what they believe they already know. They must create environments where junior employees can speak without fear, where disagreement is examined rather than punished, and where decisions are informed by evidence rather than personal loyalties.

For school leaders, this means observing classrooms rather than relying exclusively on reports. It means listening to teachers rather than assuming that silence signals satisfaction. It means examining the circumstances behind poor performance instead of rushing to blame individuals. Above all, it means recognising that every member of staff has something to contribute, even when their background, personality or opinions differ from those of management.

The lesson applies equally to parents, politicians, entrepreneurs and public servants. We cannot build strong institutions by treating people as stereotypes. Nor can we solve complex problems by repeatedly applying yesterday's assumptions to today's realities.

Carson's experience in the boxing ring reminds us that meaningful understanding begins when we stop generalising and start paying attention. The person we dismiss may possess the insight we desperately need. The complaint we ignore may contain the warning that could save an institution. The small detail we overlook may hold the key to a breakthrough.

Ultimately, leadership is not simply about seeing the big picture. It is about noticing the small details that make the big picture what it is.