Trust leaders Heather McNaughton and Caroline Pusey have shared job roles since meeting in a bunker during the Second Gulf War. They think more school staff should follow suit 鈥 “There鈥檚 nobody more interested in you talking about your work than your job-share partner,鈥 says Heather McNaughton. She has spent most of the last two decades sharing her job with Caroline Pusey, including in military bunkers for the Ministry of Defence and during strike negotiations as directors at the Department for Education. The pair earlier this year took up the position of joint chief operating officers at the River Learning Trust, which has 29 schools across Oxfordshire and Swindon. With teacher wellbeing at its lowest level for five years, and stress, insomnia and burnout all continuing to rise 鈥 it鈥檚 not the easiest time to work in schools. But McNaughton says sharing the burden means there is an 鈥渋nbuilt support and therapy鈥. So close is their connection, in fact, that McNaughton鈥檚 husband refers to Pusey as her 鈥渙ther husband鈥. Heather McNaughton and Caroline Pusey Going underground Their first job share (of sorts) was a far cry from the cosy school office they now inhabit. It involved the pair taking over from each other after gruelling 12-hour shifts in a 鈥渓ittle shoe box鈥 bunker three floors underground at the Armed Forces鈥 Northwood military base in northwest London. It was the start of the Second Gulf War, and both were on the Civil Service Fast Stream graduate programme. They were tasked with communicating details of operations back to civil servants and ministers in London, to prepare them for media briefings. Next door was the operations room, where a big screen plotted military movements. Although it was 鈥渋mmensely challenging鈥, McNaughton says it taught them 鈥渉ow to job share, because if you can do it in that situation, almost anything else is easier鈥. Pusey credits her mum, a Citizens Advice bureau manager, for instilling in her a 鈥渃ommitment to public service鈥. She spent her childhood in Malvern, Worcs, and later studied International Relations at Birmingham University. Meanwhile, McNaughton, whose parents were vets, grew up in Birmingham before doing a chemistry doctorate at Oxford. Heather McNaughton and Caroline Pusey 鈥榃alking the walk鈥 After their military bunker spell the pair returned to London 鈥 spending the next few years in similar roles looking at how well prepared the Ministry of Defence had been going into war. Pusey then spent five months in Afghanistan and six months in Iraq, where she led a team of 25 civil servants confined to base in Basra. Some were in 鈥渧ery emotive鈥 roles processing claims from Iraqi civilians whose families had been injured or killed by British military action. It was a 鈥渇ormative time鈥 in Pusey鈥檚 leadership, when she learned 鈥渢he importance of walking the walk with my team鈥. Meanwhile, McNaughton鈥檚 life took a very different turn when she lost her sight for six weeks and was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. She had to learn to become a different type of leader, to 鈥済uide and shape鈥, but 鈥渦ltimately deliver things through others鈥. She believes that her illness 鈥渁ccelerated鈥 her leadership journey, whereas most leaders realise the importance of delegating at a 鈥渓ater stage鈥. While on maternity leave to have twins, Pusey took over her MOD role. Pusey later ended up becoming private secretary to Armed Forces ministers during the Afghanistan and Iraq wars, including when the ministry was criticised for sacrificing safety to cut costs after 14 crew were killed in an RAF Nimrod air crash in 2006. When Pusey returned from her own maternity leave, the pair entered their first job share 鈥 as senior civil servants. They worked mostly on workforce issues 鈥 but their proudest achievement was leading on legislative changes allowing part-time working in the armed forces. Heather McNaughton Part-time champions The pair were then promoted to become the MOD鈥檚 first ever director-level job share, before moving to the DfE in 2018. As directors of teaching workforce, they led on work around wellbeing and teacher workload, including creating packages of support and toolkits around making job shares work. They also oversaw the recruitment and retention strategy in 2019. Pusey says it had a 鈥渞eal impact鈥 鈥 pointing to the early career framework and new national professional qualifications (and despite the 鈥渟ubstantial headwinds鈥 thwarting wider progress). One of those was Covid. McNaughton believes there was 鈥渧ery little choice鈥 but for schools to close in the first lockdown because so many school staff were isolating, they 鈥渃ouldn鈥檛 operate, even with central guidance鈥. Pusey adds it was 鈥渉ard to separate decisions made around schools from the wider decisions around society as a whole鈥. The pair also led on the national tutoring Programme when it was at its 鈥渓owest ebb鈥 and got more funding into it. But it fizzled out last year with millions of catch-up cash going unspent by schools that couldn鈥檛 afford to chuck in their own funds to access the subsidy. McNaughton says she now understands better how 鈥渓eaders have so much on their plate, whatever brilliant initiative DfE comes up with, you’ve just got lots of other things getting in the way鈥. Last year the pair launched 鈥榓mbassador鈥 multi-academy trusts and schools to champion flexible working, and designed toolkits advising school leaders. But Pusey found getting the resources 鈥渋nto the psyche of those heads-down delivering鈥 was 鈥渢he hardest thing鈥, as they鈥檙e 鈥渟o busy dealing with the day to day鈥. Caroline Pusey Striking a balance The pair were also guilty of overwork themselves, particularly after becoming director general of schools 鈥 putting them 鈥渇ront and centre鈥 in strike negotiations. 鈥淲e expanded our role too far,鈥 admits Pusey. Many an education leader would love to have been a fly on the wall, and McNaughton says she could write a book about all they learned at those discussions. While their role was to 鈥渟upport government鈥, the six years spent trying to boost recruitment and retention meant they had huge empathy for the unions鈥 cause. Did the politicians have that empathy for teachers, too? McNaughton says they 鈥渉ad views based on their own upbringing and backgrounds鈥. But she felt then-schools minister Nick Gibb, 鈥渇or all that may be said against him, was a man with more empathy than the sector would give him credit for鈥. 鈥淗e was very keen and seeking all avenues to get a resolution,鈥 she adds. The first six months of last year were a 鈥渓ong, intense鈥 time which left them 鈥減retty tired鈥. Afterwards, they took a four-month career break to find a role 鈥渃loser to frontline delivery鈥. And in April, they joined the 鈥渉ugely values driven鈥 River Learning Trust. Former schools minister Nick Gibb Trust life Their DfE experience gives them a 鈥済ood contact list鈥 when problems arise, and they 鈥渋nstinctively know鈥 what the department is looking for on issues. 鈥淲e can translate guarded messaging,鈥 says McNaughton, and 鈥渆nvisage what鈥檚 happening behind the scenes,鈥 adds Pusey. Pusey commutes from London and McNaughton from Maidenhead, Berks, to their office in Kidlington, Oxon, three days a week, including Wednesdays when they鈥檙e both present. As chief operating officers they鈥檙e responsible for all the trust鈥檚 back-office functions except finance. IT and management information changes have kept them busy lately, as well as strategic work managing the process of taking on new schools. They are currently engaging with three schools about joining the trust. With Pusey and McNaughton paid 0:6 of a full timer, there鈥檚 a financial hit to employers allowing job shares which might be putting some off. A found that in primaries, only 7 per cent of leaders and 12 per cent of teachers had a job-share in place. But in secondaries, there were no leaders sharing roles, and only 1 per cent of teachers. McNaughton points out their trust gets 鈥渢wo brains thinking all week鈥 and 鈥渆xtra energy鈥. Pusey also believes the model gives them a 鈥渂alance鈥 that she doesn鈥檛 see in other part-time roles. While 鈥渓ots of people are checking their emails while they’re dropping off kids鈥, she could 鈥渄ump the work鈥 on her days off from DfE and be 鈥渇ully with鈥 her kids. 鈥淚t feels like two personalities, but I love it鈥. Pusey believes there鈥檚 鈥渁bsolutely no reason鈥 why job shares can鈥檛 work at school leadership level, particularly in primaries, given how the demands of headship are increasing. She vehemently disagrees with the notion she 鈥渙ften鈥 hears that 鈥測ou can鈥檛 have more than one school leader鈥, because only one can 鈥渆mbody the leadership鈥. Where job sharers have different expertise they can 鈥渃over more bases鈥. But McNaughton has come across less successful job shares in schools which haven鈥檛 been invested in properly, with no delegated handover time, for example. She says you need to be prepared to 鈥渟urrender鈥 your ego to the partnership; there are times in their current role when one gets praised for work the other has spearheaded, or one has to fix what the other has 鈥渟crewed up鈥. 鈥淲e stand and fall on each other鈥檚 actions.鈥 Another key lesson they鈥檝e learnt is that, as with parenthood, 鈥測ou don鈥檛 argue in front of the children,鈥 says McNaughton. That means they 鈥減resent a united front and would never undermine each other鈥 in front of their team. In the same way that their legacy at the MoD was introducing part-time working within the armed forces, they both hope to have enabled and inspired more school staff to work flexibly. 鈥淭he cultural journey the education sector is on is longer term, but critical,鈥 adds McNaughton. 鈥淲e’re absolutely committed to it.鈥