The Secrets we Carry – And The Stories we Finally Tell by By Susan Simon

I loved being a principal — until I couldn’t stay

For a long time, I carried my story quietly.

On the surface, my career in education was progressing well. I was a teacher, then a principal, working across three schools in Queensland. I loved the work – the energy of a school, the sense of purpose, the chance to make a difference in the lives of young people and the people who taught them. It was meaningful, complex, and deeply rewarding.

And then, quite suddenly, it was over.

Not in the way you might expect. There was no neat ending, no sense of closure. Instead, there were difficult circumstances, strained relationships, and a growing weight that became impossible to ignore. Like many principals, I found myself navigating tensions that went well beyond the formal responsibilities of the role. Eventually, I made the decision to leave.

Even now, it feels strange to write about it and admit it to the world.

Because for a long time, I didn’t. I moved forward, at least outwardly. I took a year to step back from the profession, trained as a yoga teacher, and travelled to England to spend time with my mother after her Alzheimer’s diagnosis.

Later, I began working in academia, researching school leadership and supporting others preparing to step into the role I had left behind.

It was, in many ways, a new beginning. One I am grateful for.

But under the surface, there was something unresolved. A profound sense of loss – not just for the job itself, but for the version of myself that had existed within it. And a story I hadn’t yet found a way to tell.

It wasn’t until I joined a creative writing group with colleagues that something began to shift. Tentatively, I started to write down fragments of memory. Moments, impressions, conversations. I had no idea what these may lead to – but it was just enough to get started.

What surprised me was how quickly those fragments took on a life of their own.

Encouraged by the group, I began to shape them into a story. Not a memoir, but a novel. A fictional world that allowed me the distance – and the freedom – to explore the emotional truth of what I had experienced without being bound to the facts.

And so, Rosie Gladshaw came into being.

In The Secrets of St Jude’s, Rosie is a newly appointed principal at a long-established girls’ boarding school. She is capable, committed, and hopeful about the difference she can make. But as she settles into the role, she finds herself drawn into a web of competing expectations, unspoken tensions and subtle power plays.

The novel is described as academic noir, and there are elements of intrigue and drama woven throughout. But at its heart, it is a story about leadership, and about what it can cost.

Writing it was both confronting and cathartic. There were moments when I recognised feelings I had not fully acknowledged at the time – uncertainty, isolation, and the erosion of confidence that can happen when things begin to shift beneath your feet. At the same time, there was a sense of release in transforming those experiences into something creative.

Of course, fiction allows for exaggeration. Characters become more extreme, situations more heightened. There is even a murder, which I am pleased to say does not reflect my own experience. And yet, beneath those layers, the emotional landscape remains grounded in something real.

For a while, I wondered what it would mean to share this story more widely. Even in fictional form, it felt as though I was revealing something I had kept hidden for years. There is a vulnerability in that – particularly when the experiences you draw on are not easily explained or neatly resolved.

But when I finally held the finished book in my hands, what I felt most strongly was not apprehension, but a kind of quiet relief.

The secret, such as it was, no longer felt like something I had to carry alone.

I’ve been touched by how many people have responded – not just to the narrative itself, but to the sense of recognition within it. While every story is different, there is something shared in the experience of navigating complex professional environments, of managing expectations, and of finding ways to move forward when a chapter closes unexpectedly.

If this novel does anything, I hope it offers a space for reflection – for those who have worked in schools, for those who lead, and for those who have found themselves at a crossroads they did not anticipate.

Sometimes, the stories we tell are not just about making sense of the past. They are also about finding a way to carry it differently.

—

Susan Simon is the author of The Secrets of St Jude’s, published 31 March by Ventura Press.

 The Secrets of St Jude’s

Once regarded as one of the nation’s leading schools, grand old St Jude’s School for Girls finds itself on the brink of collapse after a number of public scandals damage its reputation.

Rosie Gladshaw – a dynamic and successful educator in her 40s – is appointed principal to lead the school into a bright new future. However, when Rosie comes face to face with the nuns and old girls who rigorously guard the school’s traditions, she soon discovers that her new role is much more than she signed up for.

Rosie uncovers a web of secrets, abuse and illicit affairs – and a murder which must be solved. But will Rosie be the whistle-blower, even if it puts her and family in danger?

Tags: featured, women writers

Category: On Writing