A LEGO Rose and a Lesson in Leadership
My (9 year old) daughter’s boyfriend arrived at our house on Valentine’s Day holding a rose.
But it wasn’t a florist’s rose.
It was made entirely from LEGO.
And the smile on her face said everything.
She wasn’t impressed by extravagance. She wasn’t dazzled by expense. She was moved by thoughtfulness. By the fact that someone had taken the time to build something for her. To choose something that felt different. Personal. Intentional.
It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t showy. It was simply kind.
And it struck me that this is the kind of love we need more of in our industry too.
Not dramatic gestures. Not big speeches. Not performative leadership.
Just thoughtful moments.
The swimming teacher who remembers a child’s fear from the week before and adjusts their approach.
The colleague who checks in after a tough shift.
The manager who notices effort, not just outcomes.
Small things. But small things build confidence.
In swimming lessons, confidence doesn’t come from pressure. It comes from safety. From trust. From knowing someone is on your side. That is what allows a child to let go of the wall for the first time. And the same is true for adults.
In leisure education, we often talk about standards, qualifications, compliance, progression. These things matter. They protect people. They raise quality.
But what builds culture is how we make people feel.
When education is rooted in care, we create swimming teachers who lead with empathy. We create managers who build safe environments. We create teams who stay, support one another, and take pride in what they do.
Love in leadership doesn’t always look like emotion. Sometimes it looks like patience. Sometimes it looks like clarity. Sometimes it looks like fairness. But at its core, it is about seeing people and valuing them.
A LEGO rose might seem small. But it wasn’t small at all. It was thoughtful. It was intentional. It made someone feel important. And that is what love does. It doesn’t need to be grand. It just needs to be real.
If my daughter’s Valentine’s moment taught me anything, it’s this: we don’t need to wait for the perfect time to show people they matter.
On poolside. In training rooms. In board meetings. At home.
The moment is always now.
