"Your daughter is hurt. Do you want to come and pick her up?"

"Your daughter is hurt. Do you want to come and pick her up?" asked the teacher —let’s call her Daya.

Now, if any parent were to receive such a call, the only possible response would be a panicked "Yes!". Thankfully, I was working from home that day and rushed to the school.

"Sir, shorts are not allowed in school," I recalled the guard saying once when I had gone to pick her up wearing them. Already in my car, I hoped he’d let me through today. As soon as I arrived, I asked, "Where is the nursing room?" The guard, probably realizing this wasn’t the right moment to comment on my attire, simply pointed me in.

"She looked a bit worried, but I examined her thoroughly. The injury wasn’t anything concerning, so I sent her back to class," said the nurse, Ms. Hathi.

I quickly made my way to her classroom. As soon as V (my daughter) saw me, tears started streaming down her face. My heart sank. Before I could say anything, she blurted out, "I am absolutely fine. I don’t want to miss class!"

She wasn’t crying because of pain but because she was being sent home. I checked in with her and then turned to Daya, requesting that she allow V to stay. Daya explained that she had already completed the paperwork to send V home, and as per protocol, she had to leave. I asked if she could approach a senior staff member to reconsider. The senior was in a meeting and likely dismissed her. Daya then gently counseled V and requested us to leave.

On the ground floor, I stopped V and asked, "Do you really want to attend school?" She nodded without hesitation. I knew she hates missing school. "Then let's go to the principal," I said. At that moment, she hesitated. "No, no, let’s go home. It’s okay," she said quickly. That "It’s okay" got to me. As a dad, I wasn’t okay with my daughter having an "It’s okay" experience—settling for something she clearly didn’t want.

We went back up to where principal's office was located. Outside, we were greeted by an EA—let’s call her Babitaji. "Sir, why do you wish to meet the principal?" she asked politely. I explained the situation and shared my perspective: protocols should be followed in spirit, not just in letter. If Hathi and I were both okay with V staying, there was no reason she shouldn’t be allowed back in class.

Now, the difference between good EAs and great EAs is that the great ones solve small problems before they reach their bosses. She quickly called Hathi to confirm the details, then called Daya. After listening to both, she instructed Daya to allow V to attend class. Daya soon arrived at the office, and a smiling V walked away with her. I thanked Babitaji for her timely help and left.

Rules and policies exist for a reason, but applying them with empathy makes all the difference. Sometimes, what’s ‘by the book’ isn’t what’s best for the situation. Great leadership—at any level—is about knowing when to adapt and Babitaji did just that!

The image? Well, that’s me after going through a rollercoaster of emotions that day!