I can’t remember the task I was doing, but I do clearly remember my emotions at the moment when, in a lengthy selection process for my headship at Akiva, the fire alarm went off. I remember, too, the governor whose guiding hand led me from the full view of the whole school at the assembly point and who sat with me until, relatively composed, I could return to the process and perform well enough to get the job.

That experience was a metaphor for a relationship with a team of talented and committed volunteers that supported me in the demanding and sometimes lonely role of headteacher. To be clear, the relationship was not cosy. It was one in which a group of professionals each contributed from their skill set towards a shared vision to make our school the best it could be. They understood that their role was to support and to challenge, both of which they certainly did.

On my one-year postgraduate teaching course in the 1970s, the skills I acquired included how to double-mount children’s artwork, created with vegetable dyes we extracted ourselves. I learnt how to teach in response to the academic, social and emotional needs of the children in my care.

The 1995 Education Act introduced local management of schools. Delegated budgets now demanded from those of us who went on to leadership a raft of skills strikingly absent from the Goldsmiths College primary teaching curriculum.

Leadership training in education has developed since then, but heads are still primarily the lead educators, often deriving their greatest job satisfaction from leading teaching and learning. But heads also understand that good management of finance, personnel, premises, wellbeing, and safeguarding underpins the best environment for successful teaching and learning. An active governing body with a range of complementary skills can make a huge difference.

During my headship, a high priority was to extend the use of technology in the classroom. When our provider went out of business overnight, the wise contribution of governors with relevant professional experience was invaluable. Working together, we could place the educational vision for excellent use of technology in the context of sustainable resourcing of this specialist, and very costly, area.

In these past few difficult years, governors in many of our schools have played a vital role, not just in helping leaders to face some unprecedented challenges but in supporting them, despite the turbulence, to identify and celebrate their many successes.

When I joined Akiva, we were well into the demanding process of expanding from a one-form entry independent school to two-form entry voluntary-aided. Each stage of growth brought new challenges for the staff team and the governing body.

At the end of the winter term, when cold and darkness made the long hours at school seem particularly hard, I sat at the Chanukah candle-lighting ceremony next to the wife of the former chair of governors.

His support through the building of our new premises and tortuous negotiations with the government and local authority had been tireless and highly effective. As we enjoyed the whole school rendition of Maoz  Tzur, she turned to me and said with pride, “You see, miracles can happen.”

If you are interested in becoming a governor, contact pajes.org.uk/contact_us or the Jewish Volunteering Network jvn.org.uk

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