On 19 April 2017, a sixth form student left her lesson to respond to a call-out as a volunteer with the Royal National Lifeboat Institution. A boat was in difficulty. She was trained. She went. 

At first glance, the story feels uncomfortable. A pupil leaves the controlled, supervised environment of a school and heads towards open water, uncertainty and genuine danger. It runs counter to many of the instincts that shape modern education systems: minimise risk, maintain oversight, ensure compliance, avoid exposure. 

And yet, on closer inspection, it reveals something far more important. 

This was not recklessness. It was responsibility. The risk was real, but it was understood, mitigated and purposeful. In that moment, the boundaries between pupil and citizen blurred. She was no longer simply a learner preparing for life. She was already living it. 

Too often, risk in education is framed narrowly, reduced to safeguarding checklists and compliance processes. These are, of course, essential. Schools and trusts hold a profound duty of care. But when risk is treated solely as something to eliminate, rather than something to understand and manage, an unintended consequence emerges and we begin to constrain the very development we are seeking to enable. Young people do not become capable of handling complexity by being shielded from it indefinitely. They become capable by encountering it, in structured and supported ways, over time.

In practice, this means creating environments where pupils can take on increasing levels of responsibility as they mature. It means recognising that competence develops through experience, not just instruction. It means trusting that, with the right training and boundaries, young people can rise to challenges that may initially appear beyond them. 

We see this principle already embedded in some of the most powerful developmental experiences available to pupils. Programmes such as The Scout Association, the Combined Cadet Force, and The Duke of Edinburgh’s Award all deliberately place young people in situations that involve uncertainty, responsibility and managed risk.  

Navigation in remote environments, leadership under pressure, decision-making with incomplete information – these are not by-products; they are the point. 

What these experiences share is not danger for its own sake, but structure. Risk is framed, prepared for and reflected upon. Adults do not remove risk; they design for it. 

The RNLI story is simply a more visible, and perhaps more striking, example of the same principle. The difference is that the stakes are higher and the context more acute. But the underlying idea is identical: capability grows when responsibility is real. 

For those of us working with boards, leaders and systems, there is a parallel here.  

Organisations often talk about risk appetite, but in practice drift towards risk aversion, particularly in areas that feel exposed or reputationally sensitive. Meaning the language of assurance can quietly become the practice of avoidance.