New Diocesan School for Girls principal Dr Sandra Hastie on surviving ‘dirt file’ leak at her last school - and her plans for Dio
Sandra Hastie urges her families to spend time together, and sit down together for dinner.
Dr Sandra Hastie recently took over as the new principal of Diocesan School for Girls in Auckland - one of New Zealand’s most expensive private schools. Her appointment, announced in January, attracted media attention - something she’s used to after leading a well-known Australian private school through the eye of a media storm. Now she wants to leave that behind - and has plans for Dio. Carolyne Meng-Yee reports.
On her first day at Diocesan School for Girls, Sandra Hastie heads straight to the principal’s office. Not for being in trouble - for an interview with the Herald.
It’s her first since stepping down as principal of Brisbane’s 126-year-old Somerville House, a posh private girls’ boarding and day school, where even the scandals arrive well-dressed.
In January, the Herald reported that Hastie, 62, found herself at the centre of a data leak controversy last year.
In November, a spreadsheet created in 2021 resurfaced, containing personal notes about Year Seven students, and commenting on their appearances, backgrounds and behaviour.
Although she wasn’t the principal at Somerville House when the document was created - she arrived there in 2024 - it was her job to front up as principal.
The spreadsheet noted students’ medical diagnoses and parents’ marital status. One parent later described the document as a “dirt file” on students.

Hastie, a straight shooter, kept calm, carried on, and launched a forensic investigation.
“The document should never have existed,” Hastie told the Herald. “My team and I apologised to the worst affected, sent emails to the other families and offered counselling.”
She describes the fallout from the breach as “personally challenging and hurtful” — there was backlash from some parents, and she says the media was cruel.

Hastie told the Herald Diocesan has praised her for the way she handled the crisis. “They said, ‘it was before your time, we are proud how you dealt with it’.
“I look back and think gee, I got through that. I’ve grown an extra layer of skin and I did what was right.”

Now Hastie is looking ahead - at applying everything she has learned in four decades as an educator to one of New Zealand’s most elite private schools.
She herself was educated in the public system. The youngest of four - and only girl in the family - Hastie tap-danced and played multiple sports while growing up in Picton, where she learned to sail and water ski.
She was a tramper, she played squash and tennis, and later represented Marlborough in hockey and turned out for premier first-division football in Christchurch.
Hastie originally wanted to study law, but at 16, her careers adviser at Queen Charlotte College suggested she apply for teacher training in Christchurch.
Her father, Hilton Kirkland, worked at the local dry cleaners, and her mother Mavis Kirkland was a bookkeeper. They encouraged her to give it a go, and she enrolled in a Bachelor of Education.
Hastie says she had never set foot in a private school before she started teaching at St. Kentigern Boys’ School.
Her CV since then reads like a roll call of the well-heeled: St Kentigern Boys’ and Girls’ Schools, Rangi Ruru Girls’ School, Somerville House, and Tavistock and Summerhill School - a co-ed British preparatory school in Wessex, UK.
So how did a public school girl from Picton end up running one of Brisbane’s most prestigious schools — the all girls’ school that came second in the state academically?
It’s your first day at Diocesan. What is going through your mind?
Imposter syndrome is a real thing. That saying, “we stand on the shoulders of giants”, springs to mind. The former principal, Heather McRae - a friend of mine - was a giant so it’s respecting the wonderful legacy she left. I never went for the position thinking I was going to get it. I thought they might want someone younger. I feel privileged.
The school motto is ‘Ut Serviamus’ or ‘That we may serve’. If you could change it, what would it become?
I have a mantra: “People won’t remember what you say or what you do, but they will always remember how you make them feel”. People matter most.
What is something students care deeply about that adults underestimate?
There’s a lot of fear about the future - climate change, finding a job and saving for a home. I was naive at their age, but young people today are aware of what’s going on around them and we need to listen.
We also need to find a balance between academic achievement, progress, strong values and being genuinely good human beings.

What’s a rule you secretly wish you could change?
More flexible hours around when the school day starts and finishes could make a real difference. Teenagers aren’t at their best first thing in the morning, so the question is how we can better cater for our students.
At Somerville, I introduced a new day structure, and it’s working well.
Would you consider a political career after Dio to legislate this idea?
No. When I leave Dio I will play golf all the time.
If you could invite three people, past or present, to speak at assembly, who would they be?
Michelle Obama and Jacinda Ardern stand out. I watched the Jacinda documentary and cried my eyes out, having come to appreciate just how difficult her role had been during Covid, and the loneliness of leadership.
At Rangi Ruru, I heard her speak with some of the top scholars. She had no notes, and when she finished, her aides were trying to usher her out. She said no, went around the room, met every family, and had her photo taken with them.
She was incredibly personable and humane at the time of the mosque attack. The way she handled that was first class.
And the third person?
If I could bring her back to life, Elizabeth Reid. She left a lot of money to Rangi Ruru. She had the most amazing story of survival and what she’d been through during the Depression.
What impact did the 2019 mosques attack have on Rangi Ruru?
It was frightening. I had just come out of an assembly in the church with 700 students when my EA told me the police had called to say we needed to go into lockdown.
There had been an incident at the mosque with multiple people shot. We were warned that the attackers might come to our school looking for Muslim students.
That same day, we had 30 students protesting against climate change in the square. We told them that if anything happened, they should go straight to the library and call us. Thank God they were safe.

Describe what it was like being in lockdown for four hours.
Doors were locked, and blinds shut, everything dark. We were all lying low on the floor, staying completely quiet. Some areas didn’t have bathrooms, so people just had to manage as best they could - using a bag or whatever was available. I was in my office, messaging families every half hour, telling them not to come to the school—but many came anyway.
What did you learn from the lockdown?
We didn’t have basics like water or even barley sugars, and we were lucky that no one had a medical emergency.
We learned a lot. We put better systems in place, including emergency supplies and portable toilet kits. We also identified “safe places” around the school.
In any future lockdown, students now know to go to the safe buildings that are equipped with bathrooms and supplies.
How hard was it to keep the students calm, especially Muslim students who would have relatives at the mosque?
It was tricky.

What do you think of the Government’s new draft curriculum?
It is needed, but I worry about the speed of the change. It’s already putting a lot of pressure on our busy teachers.
It does feel more future-focused, and NCEA needs an overhaul. And what happens if there’s a change of government? Unfortunately, education reform is political.
How hard is it for students to navigate the digital world we live in?
We accept that young people need to be connected, but the need to constantly “comment” or “like” something - or someone - is overwhelming. In my day, if we didn’t like someone, we told them in person rather than messaging them.
There is more pressure on girls. If you don’t respond straight away, it can be interpreted as “does that mean you don’t like me?” Girls can be brutal with each other; they can exclude someone with a look or online, while still appearing innocent.
In Australia, social media accounts have been banned for students under 16.
Dio was one of the first schools in New Zealand to ban iPhones and smart watches. There was a noticeable lift in engagement, and students talked to each other more.
Why are you wearing a smart watch?
I‘m into fitness and need to keep track of my daily steps. Heather wore one too.
Were you a rebel or a goody-goody at school?
I was a rule follower and kept my head down. I did get in trouble now and then for talking too much, but I was good at debating, which I loved. My mother was a strong woman who encouraged me to use my voice.
I don’t like injustice, and I will always stand up when I see it.

What’s one thing you hope the students will challenge you on?
I hope they always feel they have a voice—that they can ask “why” and bring new ideas forward.
When I went through school, we were never asked for our opinions about anything.
Why did you apply to be the principal of Dio?
To be closer to my husband Bruce’s family. It was also a chance to lead a school I had always wanted to lead, and to return to the New Zealand culture, which feels more like home to me.
Describe your time at Somerville House.
I was the first Kiwi woman to run a flash school in Australia - it was tough. I was very nervous about going over there.
We lived in an apartment, and I used to ride my scooter to work to show the students I was committed to sustainability.

How different is Somerville House from Dio?
Somerville is an inner-city school in South Bank — a bit of a concrete jungle. Here, everything feels more open and greener.
The education system in Queensland is very different. There is a lot more pressure on students to achieve academically. In New Zealand, students can take a gap year, explore different university courses, and try a range of subjects.
In Australia, the system is far more prescriptive, especially for medicine, law or engineering, and everything is based on an ATAR (Australian Tertiary Admission Rank) result.
So, if a student wanted to study medicine, they would need a 99.95% to get in.
There are constraints around subject choice. All subjects are scaled, which influences the subjects students take, like art, music and drama.
What was the success rate like?
We did well academically, but what is wrong [with the Australian system] is everything was measured purely by academic success, and nothing else.
The pressure on students was intense. Many pulled out of sport, music, art and drama - the focus was on achieving top marks. Students were driven by exam results, which created a lot of anxiety. Taking a gap year was often seen negatively.
I kept thinking about myself at that age — what happens if you work so hard to get into medicine and then realise it’s not what you want?
Some students were upset with 90%, which they saw as failure, whereas I would have been rapt.
The reality is that top academic schools are designed around being academic. We need to encourage young people to do what they love and choose subjects that genuinely excite them.

What’s your vision for Diocesan?
The next few months will be about learning the Dio heartbeat—listening to the students and staff and working alongside them.
We need to complete the annual plan that Heather and her team have put in place.
And continuing to be future-focused, any changes we make must be considered, and in the best interests of the students.
What’s your leadership style?
I’m very collaborative — I don’t micromanage people, and I trust them to do their jobs. I like being part of something bigger than myself.
But as a leader, I also make the tough calls when needed.
How much do you value AI?
We need to learn and embrace AI, but not be dictated by it. AI has real value in schools, as long as it’s used ethically and taught properly.
Women cope better with AI than men because we are more about empathy and compassion. Males tend to be black and white; they like to control everything.
This quote sums it up: “The illiterate of the 21st century will be the people who can’t learn, unlearn and relearn.”

How does being an all-girls school influence classroom dynamics?
Girls can be themselves and try everything because there’s no gender bias or boys to distract them.
Boys want to know how many words they have to write and when an assignment is due. They have no sense of urgency; they hear the first instruction and forget everything else. I loved teaching boys when I was the deputy principal at St Kents.
They wouldn’t want a deep and meaningful conversation about why they whacked someone; they just got over it and barely remember what the fight was about.
Girls are sensitive. When they fall out with someone, it can go on for ages; they feel the need to tell a friend, who then tells 50 others, and it gets embellished. Girls have the desire to be liked.

What’s your advice to parents?
Parents work incredibly hard for their kids to come to this type of school. The most important thing they can give is time.
In my career, I’ve seen a lot of young people who have the best overseas holidays, cars and houses, but they don’t have parents who take time to talk to them or sit down with them at dinner.
Tell me about your husband?
Bruce and I have been married for 37 years; we have no children. We have Skye, and we’re about to get another dog.
I met Bruce when I was at Teacher’s Training in Christchurch. He is a pharmacist at the hospital and works remotely, providing doctors and specialists with medical information on drugs for their patients. He’s a mad keen cyclist and looks after me very well.
How would you like to be remembered?
As a kind person who makes others feel good.
Carolyne Meng-Yee is an Auckland-based investigative journalist who won Best Documentary at the Voyager Media Awards in 2022. She worked for the Herald on Sunday from 2007-2011 and rejoined the Herald in 2016 after working as an award-winning current affairs producer at TVNZ’s 60 Minutes, 20/20 and Sunday.