Having a stammer, I never imagined I'd become a teacher

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Kai, with pupils at his international school

Headteacher Kai Vacher tells us how he gained the confidence to pursue a career in teaching and speak at international conferences, and shares three pieces of advice for anyone worried about stammering.

A few weeks ago, whilst attending The Heads' Autumn Conference in Manchester, I was pleased to see Starbucks UK's campaign to create more inclusive experiences for people who stammer. They have partnered with STAMMA to develop training for baristas, helping them better support customers who stammer, and more than 10,000 Starbucks baristas across the UK have already completed the programme.

It is a simple but important initiative. For many people who stammer, ordering a coffee can be far more than an everyday transaction. The challenge is often not the order itself, but the possibility of being rushed, interrupted or having someone complete your sentence for you.

The campaign resonated with me because I know that feeling well.

As a young person with a pronounced stammer, I never imagined I would become a teacher, let alone the principal of an international school. Yet, more than 30 years into my career in education, I have learned that what we experience as a limitation can also become a source of empathy, resilience and purpose.

Early lessons

My stammer emerged when I was four. At primary school, one teacher, Miss Bowes, made an enormous difference. She saw beyond my speech and gave me opportunities to participate. She helped ensure that my first experience of public speaking, playing Henry VIII in a school assembly, was a positive one.

But senior school brought new anxieties.

On my first day, eager to make a good impression, I found that I could not say my own name. It took what felt like five agonising minutes to get the words out while a whole class watched. The same thing happened repeatedly as I met new teachers during that first week.

I have learned that what we experience as a limitation can also become a source of empathy, resilience and purpose.

I got through school with the support of understanding friends and teachers, but I also learned to avoid situations where my speech might be noticed. I avoided reading aloud, speaking in public and anything that might expose me to embarrassment.

That is why the Starbucks and STAMMA partnership matters. Inclusion is not only about large policies or carefully worded statements. It is also about giving people time, listening patiently and allowing them to communicate without fear of judgement.

Choosing teaching

As I prepared to leave school, some classmates questioned what I could possibly do for work. "What are you going to do for a job?" they asked. "You can't even talk properly."

Even my careers adviser suggested that I look for a quiet clerical role where I would not need to speak to people.

Fortunately, a few friends saw something different. They recognised my interest in learning, my ability to connect with others and my potential to become a teacher. Their belief encouraged me to take a risk that felt enormous at the time.

I began as a Geography teacher and later became an Assistant Headteacher in two state schools in south-east England. I learned to manage my stammer, but it was nearly a decade before I felt sufficiently confident to lead a school assembly. Even then, my students did most of the talking.

That experience taught me something important: confidence is rarely something we acquire before taking a risk. More often, we gain confidence by taking the risk anyway.

Finding my voice

In 2002, I joined the Specialist Schools Trust, now SSAT. Over the following nine years, I visited hundreds of schools and worked alongside outstanding teachers, school leaders and academics. It was a remarkable period of professional growth.

It also brought one of the most daunting challenges of my career.

My colleague Sue Williamson, now CEO of SSAT, asked me to lead the organisation's National Conference. She knew I was anxious about it, but she believed I could do it. I prepared, practised and stepped onto the stage.

I went on to address 2,000 school leaders at SSAT's annual conference for five consecutive years.

At key moments in my life, teachers, friends and colleagues saw strengths that I struggled to recognise in myself. 

Fifteen years ago, I became Principal of British School Muscat. I now have the privilege of coaching and mentoring school leaders, speaking at conferences internationally and hosting The Educator's Corner podcast. None of that would have seemed possible to the young boy who struggled to say his name on his first day of senior school.

Three lessons

First, do not let difficulty define your potential. Challenges can be real and painful, but they are not a verdict on what you can achieve.

Second, find people who believe in you. At key moments in my life, teachers, friends and colleagues saw strengths that I struggled to recognise in myself. Sometimes we need to borrow another person's belief until we find our own.

Third, build confidence through action. Apply for the role. Lead the meeting. Have the conversation. Say yes to the opportunity that stretches you. If we wait until we feel completely ready, we may wait forever.

The Starbucks UK and STAMMA campaign is a valuable reminder that small acts of patience and understanding can have a profound effect. Giving someone time to speak is not complicated, but it can help them feel respected, capable and included.

For every young person who feels held back by how they speak, I would say this: your voice does not have to sound a particular way to matter.

It has the power to inspire, educate and lead.

Kai first wrote about his experience of stammering for Tes in October 2024

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