One head’s real account of facing Ofsted with clarity and calm

I’ve led schools for years and still, nothing lands quite like that phone call. The voice on the other end is calm. Friendly, even. But the message hits like a thunderclap: “We’re coming in tomorrow.”

It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve rehearsed it. There is no substitute for the real thing.

You find yourself in a strange psychological space: not quite panic, but not peace either. Your rational brain kicks in – ticking off checklists, assigning responsibilities, aligning the narrative. But underneath it all sits the deeper truth:

This isn’t a test of performance. It’s a test of values.

The 12 hours that follow aren’t just about impressing inspectors. They’re about holding your nerve, showing your team what matters most, and proving (to others, and maybe to yourself) that your school is exactly what you said it was.

This is a true account of what happened in those 12 hours. No hypotheticals, no composite anecdotes – just one school, one inspection, and the reality of leadership under pressure (magpie and all).

The strategic build-up

The moment the inspection call came in, we didn’t panic – we activated. The senior leadership team met immediately, not to invent a plan, but to enact one we already shaped.

We start with three things:

• Ownership – every SLT member knows their area: safeguarding, curriculum, SEND, behaviour, pastoral.

• Narrative – we decide which subjects we’d want to showcase and how to position our story.

• Clarity – we walk through the 90-minute phone call with the lead inspector as a team.

This initial call isn’t a passive information exchange, it’s a strategic narrative opportunity. It sets the tone. It invites the inspection team to understand us on our terms. We don’t over-script it, but we do enter with clarity, humility, and a firm grip on our school’s purpose.

Meanwhile, support staff and teaching assistants begin quietly ensuring the school looks like the school we know it to be: displays straightened, corridors tidied, shared spaces made welcoming. Not for performance, but because it reflects how we hold ourselves.

Gathering evidence

Documentation becomes your silent ally-or your biggest liability. In our case we were ready, because we agreed in advance what to include, where to find it, who owns it and how to talk about it with confidence. 

Our evidence included:

• Updated SEF with evidence pointers

• SIP priorities linked to in-year impact measures

• Attendance breakdowns by group and trend

• CPOMS logs and analysis (safeguarding and behaviour)

• SEND provision mapping and review notes

• Pupil outcomes by subject and vulnerable group

• Subject leader portfolios of practice and outcomes

• Stakeholder voice insights

It was all there because we’d made it part of the rhythm of school life – not because we had a system. We didn’t.

We’d physically mapped our evidence against the grade descriptors using nothing more high-tech than post-it notes, but it worked. Every leader knew how their area connected to the framework, and more importantly, how to speak about it in real terms. (Though if we’d had something like Intelligent Evidence at the time, I’d have slept a little easier the night before!)

The point is: what helps under pressure isn’t the amount of evidence. It’s the confidence that it’s where you need it, when you need it – and people know how to talk about it.

Subliminal messages (and how biscuits matter)

You can tell a lot about a school by its biscuit tin. Hospitality might seem like a tiny thing in a high-stakes moment, but it speaks volumes. It’s how you communicate calm, confidence and culture.

We had decent coffee, some chocolate Hobnobs (obviously), and fruit for good measure. But more than that, we had colleagues who checked in on each other. We smiled – even when nerves were running high.

Those little moments – the eye contact, the calm voices, the tray of mugs being passed around – they said, “We’ve got this. Together.” Inspectors notice culture. Not just on corridors or in classrooms, but in the cracks of the day. The way people treat each other when the pressure’s on.

What I told my team

Before anyone went home, I gathered the team. Not to brief or perform, just to speak honestly. Letting them know that:

• We’re in this together

• You’re brilliant at what you do – even if you don’t always feel it

• We are not performing, we are showing

I wanted them to be prepared, letting them know that there will be hard questions and scrutiny, but they know what matters and it’s already visible in their classrooms, children and relationships.

No one can manufacture culture under pressure. Inspection reveals it. What our staff showed was authenticity, cohesion, and integrity. And that doesn’t come from cramming the night before. It comes from living your values consistently.

You can’t plan for everything

You can control your documents. You can shape your narrative. But you cannot account for… the magpie incident. At the end of day one, just as we were winding down, a magpie appeared in the corridor. Not metaphorically – literally. 

One minute we were thanking the inspectors. The next, we were waving flipchart pads trying to gently herd the magpie towards the open door, flanked by SLT members with the urgency of a wildlife rescue crew.

As I waved this bird back into the real world, I had one thought: “How completely absurd is this? Here I am, bird-wrangling in the middle of the most high-stakes professional moment of my leadership career.” And maybe that’s what leadership under inspection really is: Composure under pressure. Problem-solving without drama. Leading from the front, even when the crisis is avian.

That same day, during a walk-and-talk with the lead inspector, I spotted one of our most complex pupils (placed with us after multiple exclusions) in crisis. Fist raised, ready to strike. Without hesitation, I stepped away, de-escalated the situation, and returned the child to a calm, regulated state. Within the hour, they were back in class, learning.

Later, the inspector said something I’ll never forget: “That moment didn’t undermine your behaviour culture. It proved it. You didn’t avoid the challenge. You handled it. And your systems allowed that pupil-and their peer-to return to learning with dignity.”

What felt like a worst-case scenario became one of the most powerful demonstrations of what inclusion really looks like in action.

Closing thoughts: Leading with intent

So, what really happens in the 12 hours before an Osted inspection? It depends entirely on the person. For me, it was: “Right-bring it on. We’re going to smash this out of the park. We know what we’re doing, and no one else is going to tell us otherwise.” 

The key is knowing who you are before the call comes in.

If there’s one thing I’d say to a new head, it’s this: You don’t prepare for Ofsted. You build a school that is always ready – because it’s doing the right work, with the right people, for the right reasons. Inspection just makes it visible.

Yes, you’ll need a calm mind, a clear plan, and decent biscuits. But more than that – you’ll need a team that knows what it stands for, and a culture that shows up even when a magpie flies in.