Three Meters Below Sea Level (And Finally Equipped to Handle It)

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Today, after six months of lessons, I passed my swimming diploma (C). 

I can now swim a few hundred metres fully clothed (including coat and shoes), dive into the deep end and swim 15 metres underwater through a hole in a screen, and tread water in the deep end for as long as I like.

Living in the Netherlands, this feels less like a hobby and more like sensible risk management. We are surrounded by canals, crossed by rivers, and bordered by the North Sea. To add a little existential spice, my own house sits three metres below sea level. Until now, my relationship with the local geography was based largely on faith and  sturdy dikes. Now, at least, I have a fighting chance if the water ever wins. 

I still remember those first few lessons, struggling to master the breaststroke. Who invented that technique—with the arms, the frog legs, and the sequencing? It doesn’t feel like a naturally human movement. It took a surprising amount of effort to persuade my adult body to cooperate. But eventually it did. When I stopped thinking.

Looking back on the past six months, the most surprising part of the experience was how much I enjoyed learning.  In fact, I enjoyed learning to swim more than actually swimming.

The Joy of Being a Beginner

It’s funny which learning experiences stay with you. The two standout experiences in my life so far have been:

  • Learning to play the double bass as a child.
  • Learning to swim as an adult.

The two have more in common than you might think. In both cases, your ego has to leave the room. You can’t think your way through it or compensate with experience from somewhere else. You simply turn up, practise, look slightly ridiculous, improve by small increments, and one day realise you’re doing something that seemed impossible a few months earlier.

There’s something deeply satisfying about that. 

People Made the Difference

What I’ll probably remember most from these lessons are the people.

The instructors were endlessly patient, encouraging and quietly demanding in exactly the right proportions. I remember saying “I don’t think I can do it” when my instructor told me to swim through a hole in a screen after diving into the deep end.  Her reply – “don’t think, just do it” – was exactly the feedback I needed at that moment.


My fellow students were just as generous. There is a surprising amount of camaraderie that develops among people who are all trying to learn to swim as an adult. We all had our own reasons for not learning to swim earlier. Mine was a lack of talent, fear of water and physical clumsiness. (I’m great with books). I expected to feel embarrassed. Instead, I felt supported—and proud that I was doing it.

When your confidence wobbles—as it inevitably does when learning something completely new—the people around you matter enormously. They gave me the encouragement to keep going until I could do it.

So yes, at 56, I finally have my swimming diploma. I also have a newfound energy to tackle the things I’d love to do, even if I don’t naturally have the talent for them.

Anyone for tennis?

Time to Think

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There is a rhythm that takes over when you spend days in the saddle. The world narrows to the width of the road, the steady turning of the pedals, and the sound of the English countryside—rain included.

The purpose of my cycling journey across England was simple: to visit my newborn grand-niece, Florence (born on the same day as Florence Nightingale). I also wanted the journey to carry a second thread—reflection on thinking, learning, and attention. I took Nancy Kline’s Time to Think with me.

Newborn Florence. What a beautiful, pure and curious soul she is!

A mobile laboratory

Kline’s premise is simple: the quality of everything we do depends on the quality of the thinking we do first—and good thinking requires space and attention.

A bicycle tour turns out to be an unusually effective laboratory for this. No meetings. No notifications. No agenda beyond the next village. Just repetition, motion, and a mind disconnecting from noise.

Well, mostly. There was rain, there were more punctures than expected, and the traffic was occasionally overconfident in its interpretation of physics. But even that becomes part of the rhythm, eventually.

An unpaved section of National Cycle Route #1!

Places that hold thought

As I moved through England, I began to notice how often thought seems to gather in certain places.

Oxford and Stratford-upon-Avon are saturated with it. You feel it in the density of books, weight of stone, and arguments made over the centuries.

Oxford

But deep thought doesn’t only happen in institutions. Further north, at Woolsthorpe Manor, Newton’s birthplace, the story goes that much of his transformative thinking on gravity and calculus took shape not in Cambridge, but in his family’s orchard during the plague years. Whether exact or embellished, the image stays with you: revolutionary ideas generated not in a frantic hub of activity but in stillness.

That contrast stayed with me as I rode on.

Newton’s Orchard and Home

Lincoln

Standing beneath the vaulted ceilings of Lincoln Cathedral, I was struck by the scale of what people can build across generations. Stone laid upon stone, intention upon intention, each generation adding something lasting to something far larger than itself.

It made me wonder: building things that outlast us requires ultra-long-form attention that seems incompatible with today’s ‘notification economy’.

Lincoln Cathedral

The real distance

The kilometres on the bike were only the visible measure of the journey. They were scaffolding.

The real distance was mental: the slow clearing that comes from sustained movement and an open uncluttered mind.

Whether in Newton’s orchard, beneath the dreaming spires of Oxford, inside the stone vastness of Lincoln Cathedral, or in the quiet presence of Florence, the same idea kept returning in different forms:

We think best—and perhaps live best—when we step out of the noise and give ourselves time and space.

Human Literacy

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Foundational literacies

For much of my professional life, I have been committed to enabling teaching and learning, particularly the foundational literacies that help people thrive: reading and writing, numeracy, scientific and cultural literacies. These are the building blocks upon which so much else depends.

Human Literacy

As AI becomes increasingly capable—and may soon outperform us in many of these traditional literacies—another literacy is moving to the foreground: human literacy.

Human literacy: the ability to understand and regulate ourselves, relate effectively with others, and continue to learn, grow, and flourish.

If traditional literacies help us engage with knowledge, human literacy helps us engage with ourselves and one another.

Environment of Trust

Cultivating this literacy isn’t just an academic exercise, it requires intentional practice. This realisation was one of the reasons I enrolled in a nine-month coaching programme at Henley.

I expected to spend my time learning coaching theories, frameworks, tools, and techniques. What I did not fully anticipate was the importance of the environment in which that learning would take place.

One of the most striking aspects of the programme has been the sense of trust, safety, and support created among participants and faculty. Coaching requires openness, curiosity, self-awareness, and, at times, vulnerability. These qualities cannot be forced; they emerge when people feel respected and free to experiment without fear of judgement. They become more rather than less important as AI takes on a growing share of analytical and knowledge-based work.

It was remarkable how quickly accomplished professionals became willing to share uncertainties, experiment with unfamiliar approaches, and offer candid feedback. This has established a community that feels deeply collaborative rather than competitive. Credit to the faculty and team for creating this!

Personal Struggle

One of the most challenging aspects of the programme for me has been learning to step out of the driving seat. My instinct is often to steer people reach a conclusion, but effective coaching requires creating the conditions for the coachee to find their own way forward. Before joining the programme, I assumed I would be most drawn to structured, solution-focused approaches. I was surprised to find myself appreciating more humanistic and systemic perspectives. They often created a greater sense of calm and presence in the conversation, which in turn seemed to help the coachee open up and explore more freely.

It has been a useful reminder to me that some of the most valuable learning comes from the approaches we initially resist. It’s a lesson I hope to carry beyond coaching.

Learning Partnership

The connection between coaching and learning has been the most valuable insight for me so far. Good coaching is not about providing answers. It is about creating the environment in which learning can happen—cultivating trust and psychological safety, encouraging curiosity and reflection, offering challenge alongside support, and enabling continuous growth.

At its best, coaching is a learning partnership. It helps people think more clearly, discover new possibilities, and move forward with greater confidence and purpose.

I expected the course to be the project. Instead, I have found that I am the project.

Coaching and Mentoring

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Today was my last day as Chairman of Infinitas Learning — and the end of an important chapter for me in educational publishing, following my earlier years as CEO of Sanoma Learning.

Those who know me well know how passionate I am about learning, and about the role organisations like Infinitas and Sanoma play in supporting learner outcomes and helping teachers in their vitally important work.

Following its acquisition by NPM Capital as lead investor, we have doubled the size of the business, including expanding into Portugal and Poland. Working on that growth — alongside the company’s digital and, more recently, its AI transformations — has been especially rewarding. There are enormous opportunities ahead to better support both teachers and students.

Most of all, I’ve valued the people. My colleagues at Infinitas and NPM Capital have been outstanding, and I’m genuinely grateful to have been part of the journey. I wish them every success for the future.

Over the past 15 years leading and chairing organisations in edtech and learning, I’ve accumulated hard-won experience in leadership, transformation, and what it takes to grow — both as an organisation and as a person. And I’m still very much learning. What continues to fascinate me is how much of leadership ultimately comes down to learning.

In the next phase, I want to put that experience to work more directly through coaching and mentoring, alongside my ongoing board commitments in edtech, including as Chairman of Ovivio.

Where I’d most like to help:
> Executive transition coaching — supporting leaders stepping into C-suite or senior roles for the first time.
> Strategic leadership — working through the real complexity of leading organisations through change.
> Personal effectiveness — helping leaders perform at their best.

For mentoring, my focus will naturally remain close to education and edtech (while avoiding conflicts with Infinitas or Ovivio). For coaching, the methodology is different, and I am keen to work more broadly across sectors — including healthtech and business services.

If any of this resonates, or if you simply want to catch up, feel free to reach out here or directly at: johnmartin@contentconnected.com

Looking forward to what comes next.

#learning #education #edtech #coaching #mentoring

Mentorship opportunity for emerging leaders

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Over the years, I’ve enjoyed working with younger leaders as they step into bigger roles.

I’ve been fortunate to have some great people in my life who gave me space to reflect and shared perspective. I’m grateful for their support and would like to help others to make progress in their careers.

I’m interested to support one or two developing leaders as a mentor or coach – a sparring partner and sounding board. If this resonates, or you know someone who might benefit, let’s connect.

Feel free to contact me at johnmartin@contentconnected.com