Amit Singh Kalley is the cofounder of For Working Parents, a mission-driven company dedicated to making workplaces more inclusive and supportive for parents and carers, especially in the world of digital parenting, online safety and social media. A former Deputy Headteacher turned ICF-trained coach, Amit combines his education-sector expertise with personal insight to drive genuine change. 

In this guest blog, Amit draws on two profoundly personal experiences: supporting his mother through ovarian cancer, and caring for his daughter, born during the pandemic with three holes in her heart, and makes realistic recommendations on how businesses can better support people with caring responsibilities.  

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There are moments in life that change your life. For me, two of those moments came close together: losing my mum to ovarian cancer, and discovering that my baby daughter had three holes in her heart. I was working in education at the time, in a job I loved, but the personal battles made it clear that the system we work in doesn’t always bend to the realities of being human. 

I’m deeply grateful for the support I did receive. My headteacher was understanding and, in many ways, very flexible, especially during my mum’s final months. I lived with her, so I didn’t need to request long periods of time off. I saw her every morning before school and every evening when I came home.  

But when the end came, when I knew she had just days left, I took a few days off to be with her. After she passed, I was granted time to mourn and plan the funeral. I remember vividly asking for one more day and being told it might be best for me to come into work. I’ve often wondered if that suggestion made for my wellbeing, or because the school needed me back? It’s hard to say.  

Shortly after, life turned again. My daughter was born with a serious heart condition, three holes in her heart, and needed ongoing care. It was during COVID, and we were in and out of lockdowns. Ironically, the pandemic offered a form of relief; because schools were partially closed, I could take her to Great Ormond Street for appointments without constantly asking for special permission. I was there for every appointment and for her open-heart surgery, although I was never allowed into the actual hospital because of the one-parent rule imposed at the time. But I could be there without feeling like I was failing my students or burdening my team. 

I’ve often asked myself: if this hadn’t happened during the pandemic, would I have had the same freedom? Would I have felt able to take the time my daughter needed? Or would I have pushed myself to “make it work” around the timetable. In education, unlike many other sectors, flexibility can feel like a luxury, when it should be standard. 

I was in a profession that prides itself on compassion. We champion wellbeing for our pupils and talk often about inclusion. But we don’t always extend the same grace to the adults who make schools run, especially when life gets difficult.  

It comes down to a simple but powerful concept: equity over equality. 

Equality means everyone gets the same: three days for a bereavement, maybe one if it’s “extended family.” But equity recognises that grief varies. In many cultures, an aunty is as close as a mother. In some families, that bond is just as important. To say, “You get one day off” because the relationship doesn’t meet HR’s criteria for immediate family, is not just unkind, it’s unjust. 

Equity means meeting people where they are, not just where policy says they should be. 

So, what can schools, and the workplace, do differently? 

1. Create space for individual conversations 

Allow colleagues to speak openly about their circumstances without fear of judgement or repercussions. If a staff member says they need extra time to grieve, listen. If a child is facing surgery, don’t wait for them to ask, offer the time they’ll need. 

2. Train leaders to lead with empathy 

Middle and senior leaders set the tone. Offer training on compassionate leadership, cultural awareness, and trauma-informed HR. We don’t expect leaders to be counsellors, but we can equip them to respond with understanding and fairness. 

3. Build policies that are flexible, not rigid 

Yes, workplaces need structure, but not at the cost of humanity. Review your staff absence policies to allow for discretionary leave. Consider cultural and familial contexts. Let managers use judgement, not just checklists. 

4. Redefine “essential presence” 

Not every meeting needs to be in person. Not everything needs to be done by someone who is grieving or caring for a sick child. Let’s stop assuming that being physically in the building equals commitment. 

I worked in education for ten years, and I know the pressure leaders are under. But I also know that when we show up for our colleagues during the hardest times of their lives, they remember. It builds loyalty. It builds trust. It creates a culture people want to stay in. 

As we look to the future of education and the wider workplace, let’s not just talk about inclusion. Let’s live it.