Speech Day reflections

As another school year comes to an end, Sarah Thomas looks ahead to the future with one foot firmly rooted in the past. Discover why she believes that Bryanston’s motto of “Et Nova et Vetera” – both the new and the old – is more apt than ever.

Back in January, Bryanston turned 90 and through OB Simon Wheeler’s (C ’93) extraordinary series of films, we are able to look back and remind ourselves of why this school is so special. The place, the people, the ideas and the principles that continue to guide us. In June, we were able to look forward, with the announcement of my successor.  I’m delighted that Mark Mortimer will be leading Bryanston onwards and upwards from September 2019 and look forward to having a year in which I can do whatever makes most sense to allow him, his lovely wife Anna and their three children, to get to know this wonderful school. 

Speeches in the Elder Concert Hall

At last year’s Speech Day, the Chairman spoke on the theme of necessary change and evolution within schools. Schools do change.  They must; they would disappear into oblivion if they did not.  But that does not mean that the things that matter must change.  Our guiding principles of creativity, breadth of ambition, individuality, the sense of a loving family, of humanity, and of resilience, have been embedded in our DNA since 1928 and will endure, I am certain, because of Bryanston’s collective good sense, the quality of the governors, and their choice of excellent headmasters. Those guiding principles will ensure that Bryanston continues to evolve boldly and positively, without losing the critical constituents of what makes Bryanston Bryanston.

Peter Tait, former headmaster of Sherborne Prep and a great friend of Bryanston, likes to torment us with this question: ‘What is a proper curriculum?’ Are we still, in effect, teaching what we taught 50 years ago, regardless of new, more relevant subjects, and without reference to what our pupils actually learn from them?  Teaching is not after all learning.  Then there are the real-world issues: funding for state schools and affordability for the independent sector; the fact that more overseas children are now educated in branches of UK independent schools abroad than here in the UK; and above all there’s the looming threat of AI. What kind of world are we actually preparing our young people for? And how do independent schools – how does Bryanston – stay relevant in the face of the fantastically significant changes that are coming our way? 

Duncan Emerson directs the orchestra

Sir Anthony Seldon in his book The Fourth Education Revolution challenges the model which most schools still adhere to – that of The Third Revolution: industrialised learning; schools as factories; chalk and talk, or its 21^st-century equivalent, Powerpoint and talk. Sir Anthony predicts we will meet the challenges of AI by adopting a new model and following a 5-point plan: (i) ending early specialisation in schools; (ii) investing in staff who understand learning and analytics and technology; (iii) emphasising the human in education, to produce competent adults who are better than any algorithm; (iv) personalising learning; (v) challenging and stretching young people, by making school more than about lessons.

Guests relax in the sunshine

This is precisely the model that Bryanston has striven to follow, and with some success, over the past 90 years, often in defiance of the conventional wisdom that academic success is the be all and end all. Ending early specialisation? Embracing personalised learning? Stretching our pupils beyond the classroom? Look at our tutorial system and the Dalton Plan, our correction periods and one-to-one attention to the individual.  Added to that, we have a curriculum that is particularly diverse in the formative D year, an extraordinary range of extra-curricular opportunities and an A level programme which always seeks to ensure there are no impossible subject combinations. And better still, the IB.

Tennis on the grass courts

Bryanston’s model has explicitly set out to help children to develop the human.  It’s why Bryanstonians invariably end up in such a range of careers and don’t necessarily trot off into those professions which, we are told, will soon no longer exist. At Bryanston we have always known that education is not about mere subjects.  It’s about an outlook, an attitude, a lifelong ability to learn and adapt; to work in teams; to influence and persuade; to direct and lead. To laugh at yourself and to put things right when you’ve gone wrong. The future requires real people, with real values and real emotional intelligence. And real education.

Whilst the changes technology have brought have been huge (both for good and bad) I am happy to predict that one of the longer terms effects might be that we refocus upon, and rejoice in, what makes us human, not machine. Because the world changes – we all know that – but what does not change is what it takes to be human.

90 years young!

As we approach our 90th anniversary, our Head, Sarah Thomas, looks at why a school that is proud of being young still celebrates getting older.

Bryanston will be 90 years old (or 90 years young, however you look at it) on 24th January. On that day in 1928, the school doors opened to the 23 boys and seven members of staff in the old Portman palace at the top of the two-mile drive from Blandford Forum.

Bryanston really is still a young school, and one that is proud to remember its founding father’s vision, of a school offering exceptional care for, and genuine interest in, each of its pupils (through, amongst other things, the incomparable house and tutoring structure) and where pupils are encouraged to thrive and to find joy in whatever they happen, legitimately, to be excellent at, as well as guided and supported through the other things they might find more difficult or more tedious perhaps as part of their educational endeavours.

So, why should a school proud of being young celebrate being older? I think there are various reasons from my (very ephemeral) point of view. Firstly, Bryanston likes a good party. After all, it’s what the place was built for. Look at those magnificent rooms in the centre of the house, now Dorchester, Grosvenor and Cowley, and feel the sprung dance floor. I was once shown a guest book for the 1900 New Year’s Eve party at Bryanston when it still belonged to the Portman family. It sounds like a spectacular evening: fireworks and dry ice! And what is life if it is not possible to enjoy special occasions? It’s right to mark those significant moments in life. Next, I think it’s worth celebrating the fact that the Bryanston model – somewhat arriviste compared to those venerable schools which date back to the 15th and 16th centuries – is not only thriving, but that other older schools have, we like to think, adopted some of our ideas and methods (more adult interest in pupils; better tutoring; a junior boarding house system). Thirdly, I think it’s always important to remember, and to remember to re-state, the values upon which any school is founded. Schools which do otherwise invariably lose their way in matters of ethos and identity.

As a school, we routinely consider what is important to us, through regular reviews of our mission statement, strategic planning, prospectus and other communications to current and prospective parents and pupils. As part of the planning involved in identifying my successor, we recently put together Bryanston’s Guiding Principles.

None of these should come as a surprise. Although, of course, there is a certain element of Berocca about it all. Some of the headlines took a few tussles between us here and there (and rightly so), but you will, I hope, find these principles running through all we say and do – and all we always have said and done. As Bryanston gets ready to find and then welcome its seventh Head, as we eat cake and watch the 90 films put together by the irrepressible Simon Wheeler (C 1993), and as we raise our metaphorical (in some cases) glass to our 90th birthday, what better or more joyful way to do it than to ‘make a noise’ (as I believe they say) in the arid world of 21st-century education: “We are Bryanston! We know what really matters! We’re going strong and here’s to the next 90 years!”

et nova et vetera!

Join in the celebration of Bryanston's 90th anniversary by following Bry90 on YouTube, Twitter, Facebook or Instagram.

“I wanted to see what would happen!” part three

Following on from parts one and two of his blog, Simon Vincent continues to share his insights into teenage boys, gained over his 12 years as a junior boys’ housemaster.

"Mistakes are the portals of discovery." - James Joyce

Most boys have an innate desire to find things out for themselves and, given the opportunity, will do so despite the best advice that they are given. Certainly, the consequences can seem terrifying, but I would contend that the consequences of not allowing them to do so are worse. The well-known observation “Why, when someone tells you that there are 100 million stars in the universe do you believe them, yet when you see a sign saying ‘Wet Paint’, do you have to touch it to check?” is one that applies particularly to teenage boys. What makes this worse is the extent to which they wind each other up and challenge an arms race of bravado. Among young teenage boys unused to each other’s company this forms an essential part of early interaction. Boys are not great at having meaningful conversations about themselves, as they are all terrified that others will find them boring and immature. They are so desperate to show their credentials to their peers that they exaggerate to an amusingly ridiculous degree. In an overblown social version of the card game Liar, the stakes of calling each other out are raised by the prospect of being called out in turn. What is left is an environment where boys think that others may not be telling the entire truth, but recognise that they, in turn, have perjured themselves so they all just go along with the illusion. I have overheard the most ridiculous (and often shocking) claims of boys earnestly telling others that their dad invented the SAS or that they have been to a pool party with Rihanna or other such nonsense! I remember clearly the horror when I saw a (not very gymnastically-talented) boy in the house garden standing on the fence, surrounded by a cheering crowd, and clearly about to do a back flip off it. Time seemed to slow down as I rushed for the back door to try and stop him, but flip he did, landing flat on his back on the hard ground. I had images of A&E flashing in my head. Thankfully he was unhurt, but what emerged was that he had told other boys so many times that he could do it, that he had actually begun to believe that he could. This is a fairly benign example, but it is at the root of many that are less so.

The world is changed and it is an inevitability that our risk-averse culture has arisen (especially with the paperwork at schools). This is all very sensible and helps to keep the lawyer from the door, but I am not the first to recognise that organised fun is often no fun at all! My best memories of boarding school are not the wonderful school trips or the coaching sessions we had but those where we went freestyle, took charge of our own leisure time and tried to do something different. Pupils still do this, thankfully, and in a much more controlled environment the thrill of doing something for themselves has added piquancy. The boys, when left to their own devices, are often much more sensible and risk-averse than we give them credit for, but our inability to give them enough leeway makes them all the more committed to challenging action. I completely understand the desire to keep children safe, but the teenage years are a time when the mantle of ‘child’ is starting to shrug from their shoulders and they are looking (albeit through rose-tinted, psychedelic spectacles) at the fact that they may be a viable individual in their own right. I see our role as giving them advice and a road map, whilst always being on standby to jump in with roadside breakdown cover if really needed in case of failure.

Failure is probably the most important learning process in a teenage boy’s development, so let’s not deny it to them. Some years ago I coached an U14 rugby team with a colleague. Our season statistics by December read Played 15 Won 15 and County Cup Champions. Amid all the celebrations at the end of that autumn term, my colleague and I both voiced our misgivings. Most teenage boys have pretty high opinions of themselves and, if not slightly tempered, can cross over from confidence into arrogance. Don't get me wrong, I love my teams to win but when they start to believe their own hype about themselves there are problems coming. In this instance, rather predictably, the rugby team refused to listen to the advice that they were given to change the way they played at U15 level or to work on core skills. As a result they only won five matches out of 12 at U15 level. A quote from a classic film best summarises this when Commander Stinger tells the well-nicknamed Maverick (Tom Cruise), “Son, your ego is writing cheques that your body can’t cash.” This is spot on. In order to become better young men, boys must experience failure and disappointment and test themselves against that, rather than success. I do not suggest that we should create losing situations for them, rather that we allow them to fail (gently) more than trying vicariously to exorcise our own past failings by attempting to solve all issues for our children. This is to deny them the very learning opportunity that makes us seek to help them. Again, this is totally understandable and I am sometimes unable to resist with my own children – but I try.

And so ...
I have been enormously privileged to welcome so many wonderful young men into Bryanston over the last 12 years and I have been truly proud of the way that they have progressed and moved on. The fact that my first intake of boys is now 26 years old is terrifying but such is the march of time. As I have said, my main motivation in writing this is to provide some kind of balance to the emotional turmoil of parenting that is all the more accurately felt if your current teenager is your first. There is no blueprint for success here, just some observations about how to make a really difficult job as a parent a little bit easier and to make interaction with the school more straightforward.

A former Headmaster of this school is reported to have told new parents that “A boarding school education is like cooking a casserole. Put all the parts in and as long as you don't lift the lid or stir it for five years it will turn out delicious.” This is probably apocryphal, but it does sum up a now-outdated attitude towards boarding. The reality these days is very different, but there is an essential point in the quotation. The whole point of these five years is a move towards adulthood – our children’s adulthood. Up until this point we have been their major guides through life, but this will probably not be the case in five years’ time and we need to learn to let them go a bit. This is a transitional period when teenagers are looking for other role models, other sources of advice, other sources of love and friendship. It is difficult for the boys, but far more difficult for the parents. Good luck!

• “I wanted to see what would happen!” part one
• “I wanted to see what would happen!” part two

Ten years on

Class of 2007

At the weekend the classes of 1987, 1997 and 2007 returned to Bryanston for their reunion. Benjy Barkes (Sa ’07) reflects on his return to school and what it meant to him.

What an amazing, rewarding and fun day! Mostly we hadn’t seen each other for 10 years and for many it was their first time back in Dorset, let alone the school grounds. The last time we were together as a group we knew a huge amount about one another, at least we imagined that we did. We had spent most of the previous five years in each other’s company, whilst going through the same experience.

But talking to others at the reunion, it became clear that we hadn’t had the same experience. Five of the most formative years of your life spent anywhere, but particularly Bryanston, are a unique experience, and we all have our own memories of our time at school.

Besides some smart new additions, the school feels and looks largely the same. The worlds we lived in – for me, the four corridors of Salisbury House and a few small bedrooms that were my home for years of my life – also look the same.

Even as we were given a tour of the house, the group of recent strangers slotted back into their former school roles: the loud ones, the shy ones, the musicians, the rugby players. It was nostalgic and curious, bouncing from mature catch-up chat to long forgotten school-boy banter.

I guess that we are still the same people that left Bryanston a decade ago, we certainly look similar! But we are all, without a doubt, so much better for those 10 years. The shy 18-year-olds are now young professionals. Some of those that played in bands at school are now musicians playing to crowds across the country, some of the rugby players are now professionals, hard workers are now accountants and bankers, some are married with children; there are soldiers, artists, naval officers, actors and composers.

Every person, in every way, seemed a better version of themselves. A more confident, happier and developed version of the person that emerged from Bryanston all those years ago. I imagine that this, as an observation, would probably be consistent with other schools. However, with Bryanston there’s one clear difference: the diversity.

I cannot envisage that any other school produces such a happy mixture of people, who not only relish seeing each other, but also cherish their differences and are thankful for the school that offered the chance for everyone to find their niche. There truly is no Bryanston stereotype.

By and large, everyone at the reunion expressed the fondest memories of their time at school and loved the opportunity to spend the day together. It’s a curious virtue of our newly discovered confidence and maturity, that most of us had longer conversations with people in our year at the reunion than we ever had in our five years of shared classes. A missed opportunity, but such is life. Bring on the 20-year reunion!

See more photos from the reunion.

Creating the right environment

One of the most difficult questions I have faced as Head came about ten years ago, during a Blues’ (prefects’) meeting.

“So, what do you do as a head then?”

I think the boy was rather surprised, firstly that the words hadn’t just rolled around inside his mind but had actually come out of his mouth, and secondly by the moment’s profound silence with which all his fellow Blues had met his earnest enquiry.

It seemed to me a perfectly decent question (though somewhat unexpected in the context of the meeting). I muttered something in reply, about welcoming lots of prospective pupils and parents, dealing with lots of current pupils and parents, watching matches every Saturday, the odd bit of Latin teaching, and - my least favourite activity of all time - attending meetings. And, worse still, meetings about meetings. I have often mused subsequently that none of this did justice to Jonathan’s question.

A head’s job is frankly a rather barmy one. You have what one of my governors once described as a large number of different client stakeholders. There are, of course, pupils and prospective pupils, parents and prospective parents, current staff, former staff, former pupils, governors past and present, and other members of the extended Bryanston family. There are also relations to be maintained with other schools, particularly, but not exclusively, prep schools (I and other members of staff govern at a wide range of them) and we may even be involved in an academy school too. But that is still not enough of an answer to Jonathan’s question. It’s just the transactional stuff.

I spend a good deal of my time on the above, it’s true, and my diary looks like a piece of cake some days and a merciless assault course other days. And that despite the careful ministrations of clever and kind PAs. If you’re not careful you can spend too much time in your study and not enough time out and about. I struggle to escape sometimes. And having started my career as an unimpressive articled clerk to a notary public, I’m a bit allergic to being stuck behind a desk.

The truth is that the job of a head is not a job at all. It’s a vocation. And the thing that drives me, and I believe all my colleagues in all schools of different shapes and sizes, is the physical and mental wellbeing and intellectual and spiritual growth of all the pupils in our care. It’s what gets us out of bed every morning. It’s what takes me from D chapel on weekday mornings (not often enough, I’m ashamed to say) to A3 discussion groups on Tuesday and Thursday evenings. It’s what draws me to the touchline, to the theatre, to the art studio and the concert hall. There is a joy and energy, which frankly can only be gained from spending time in the company of talented and interesting pupils and staff. It can’t be found from behind a desk. In fact, it’s hard to imagine it can be found in many other walks of life.

I believe my job is to create the right environment. One in which our pupils and staff can thrive and enjoy teaching and learning. It’s what I aim for. Sometimes that seems a ridiculously ambitious aim. Other times the world spins perfectly on its axis and everything seems to be swept along in this joyful endeavour. The real reward, of course, is in seeing our young people leave school at 18 ready to take on the world with confidence. That’s when you really know you’ve done your job as a head. And that, I hope, at long last, goes at least some way to answering Jonathan’s question.

Belonging

“I’ve never really felt alone here,” a girl reported about settling in at Bryanston in the pupil pre-inspection questionnaire at the start of this term. Music to my ears. Belonging seems to me to matter enormously, not least in this fast-moving, virtual world some would have us believe we live in. Why? To explain that, it’s time for the famous camel story, courtesy of my old and wonderful ex-colleague, Stephen Winkley.

There was a family of camels enjoying a good graze and gossip. The baby camel was chewing, as baby camels do, and wondering some wondrous thoughts. He asked his mother, “Mum, why have we got these bumps on our backs?” “Well,” said his mother, “Those bumps are humps and they store gallons of water in them which means we can walk for days across the desert without stopping for a drink.” The baby camel thought about this, ruminatively, and as baby camels often do, came up with another question. “Mum, so why have we got these great big splashy feet then?” And his mother answered him patiently, as mother camels do, “Those are to allow us to walk for miles and miles through the trackless sands without getting bogged down and to keep on going and going.” The baby camel turned this interesting new fact around his baby camel mind and asked, “Mum, so why is it we are in Chessington Zoo?”

The point of the story is that we all know when we feel out of place and we much prefer to know where we belong. It makes sense of who we are and what our talents and dispositions are. It allows us to give of our best and to feel valued and recognised for who we are and what we bring to the party. And that way you don’t feel alone or lonely but you feel part of a place that is right for you, which nurtures those talents and helps them grow, which allows you to learn from others around you. All real boarding school stuff; none of that gaming or social media nonsense. It’s all about drama and sport, music and bell ringing.

It may be that those who believe in ‘character building’ arguments about schooling would argue that we could do the same from being in a totally alien environment and not having a chance of fitting in. This is the cold baths and ‘it never did me any harm, being hung by my heels out of the window’ school of thought about life in a bracing boarding school circa 1810. That seems to me to be illegal as well as unreasonably demanding of a 13- or even 18- year-old. I am delighted that pupils talk about this place as a family, a home from home, a place they feel supported, guided and cherished. It makes my job, which is not always entirely straightforward, really worthwhile.

And how seasonal this all feels: camels, belonging, being cherished. Time for writing my Christmas cards and another mince pie. I wish you all a restful Christmas holiday together when it arrives and the very best of all things for 2016.

Sad news

The last week has been one in which Bryanston has had to dig deep. We heard the terrible news of the death of Pete Simpson, much-loved husband of Becky Simpson and much-loved father of Niamh and Joe. The news has rocked us all. Most of all our sympathy has been with Becky, Niamh, Joe, and Pete’s family. We all want to support them in every way we can, whilst we do our best to cope with our own grief.

Pete was inspirational as a teacher and tutor. An outstanding Director of Studies. I am not going to write his eulogy, as others will do it better than I and at the right time. Becky has said that she wants a small family funeral. After that, and in due course, we can then consider a fitting memorial service to Pete. I know many will want to attend.

I wanted, however, to write a little now about two things. First, Pete and Becky’s daughter Niamh is a better writer than I and I direct you to her writings on Facebook. They, and she, are remarkable.

Secondly, an observation. Stephen Winkley, my old boss at Uppingham, used to say, ‘If something horrid has to happen in your life it better happen at a proper boarding school.’ He was right. It doesn’t make what happens any easier, but it does perhaps make some infinitesimal bits of it easier to bear to have around you the strength and purpose of a loving community and family.

We have set up a Facebook group for anyone who would like to share their memories of Pete or messages of condolence.

The parent-teacher partnership

Pete Simpson

I recently attended the IB regional conference in Rome, where I was fortunate to listen to Andreas Schleicher, Director for Education and Skills, and Special Advisor on Education Policy to the Secretary-General at the OECD in Paris. He spoke passionately about excellent teaching and management, but also about a sense of supportive collaboration between parents and teachers in helping children progress. Rather counter-intuitively, given the geographic distance that defines the parental relationship in a boarding school, it's my belief that parents are as important to pupil success at Bryanston as they are in day schools. Even more counter-intuitively, the boarding context, when supported appropriately, can enhance the role of the parent in helping their child. I observe this as a teacher, ex housemaster and tutor, but also as the parent of two current Bryanstonians.

The creation of a team of support which involves parents is vital during the early days of the Bryanston experience. There is a massive shift in scale and complexity from prep school. Many are boarding for the first time, and they are moving from being at the top of their perceived hierarchies to starting afresh at the bottom, as previously familiar academic and social orders dissolve. If that wasn't hard enough to deal with, the hormonal laboratory of adolescence produces physical and emotional changes to complicate things further. Similarly, as parents who learnt the ropes at previous schools and knew the form, we now find ourselves floundering as newbies once again, tentatively asking matron if we should make their beds on the first day of term. Should we unpack? How long do we stay, trying desperately not to embarrass our painfully self-conscious offspring? (And yes, I was the only father who didn't realise you had to bring a duvet.) As the first couple of weeks are negotiated and the term settles, many of us may encounter a vehement independence that seems to happen almost overnight. When this is coupled to reticence, which is of course complicated by physical distance, the standard response of most fourteen year olds to parental enquiries on how their work, or indeed anything else, is going becomes "fine".

How do we help? A prep school parent is able more easily to discuss information directly with their child. With the complication of adolescence that approach can be counterproductive. I think as parents we might feel a bit powerless to help, which is of course our strongest instinct, and as our instincts and theirs clash, the route through to improvement can be difficult to plot. The Bryanston eChart, which can be accessed by parents online, is designed in part to compensate. It tells you everything you need to know from an academic perspective, with grades, effort marks and comments detailing exactly what's happening, so that the excavation of the material can be done effortlessly. While adolescents may find providing information on their academic progress close to torture, they DO want to be supported and encouraged, and are keen to point out as an injustice any episode where they sense that's not taking place. So the eChart provides teachers, parents, tutor and hsm with the starting position for supportive and collaborative discussion which involves the pupil as an equal partner, not as the messenger of their own performance. As a consequence the focus of the support is appropriately aimed on what needs to be done to improve, and progress can be accelerated. With such a support team in place, and the right instruments to help, the relationship between parent and child can move beyond the rather strained communication of the problems to one which is constructive in developing solutions. I might be so bold as to suggest that this would be more difficult outside the boarding environment, where the physical distance can actually enhance the relationship between parent and child by removing the context where adolescence can be counterproductive.

The early period at public school can be both a frightening and exciting time for parents, but it takes place in a safe and happy environment where the children can develop at their own pace and where the support is well established and at the centre of what we do. As a parent you play a critical role in supporting the happiness and progress of your child. Please never feel your role exists on the outside looking in. Never feel uncomfortable about contacting a tutor or hsm to discuss progress or share concerns. You will have an intuitive feel for your child's progress which will be vital to shaping their time with us. This is very much a partnership and amazing things can happen when we work together.

School ties

Last weekend we had reunions for the classes of 2004, 1994, and 1984. The school was full of returning Old Bryanstonians (OBs), and in many cases their young families, and there was a constant buzz of enjoyed excitement as old friends encountered one another again.

I turn up to these reunions each summer term with the adjuration of our alumni officer ringing in my ears: “The returning OBs want to see and hear from the Head”. I am puzzled by this, as a room full of

OBs rarely want to hear anything from anyone other than each other (after all, some are seeing each other and old school teachers after quite a few years!) and certainly it’s a puzzle why they might want to hear from a Head who wasn’t even at Bryanston ten, twenty, thirty years ago. So this year I gave it more thought than usual: what on earth would OBs want to hear from a complete stranger and why do we invite OBs back automatically after ten, twenty, thirty years away from the alma mater?

A cynic would say because we want something back from them…even after their parents decided to spend a good deal of money upon their education at Bryanston. And yes, there will be an element of that as OBs are amongst our most generous benefactors and certainly make up the vast majority of them. I cannot tell you how grateful I am to them and how much good they do for these current Bryanstonians who are in receipt of substantial bursarial support thanks to their generosity to, and affection for, their old school. But support comes in a myriad of ways and is a good few steps down the road from our first hoped-for aim in hosting these annual reunions.

We principally want to remain in decent contact with our alumni. This is because Bryanston is a family school. We have a strong percentage of brothers and sisters at the school. OBs teach here; OBs send their children here. And there’s a Venn diagram already. We would never turn down a sibling, unless we believed it was absolutely the right thing to do. Bryanston prides itself upon looking at the all-round picture, at the whole child, and does not treat children as if they were ‘raw data’. No good family does, so nor do we.

For me, one of the most important aspects of any good school is that you can feel you belong. Not in some lazy, uniform-driven way (who nowadays thinks a tie can make them friends??), but because you are individually recognized (the tutorial system is critical here, as well as the fact that we are not too large a school) and because you are valued for what you are interested in and involved in. You don’t have to be brilliant at chemistry or ancient Greek (although it’s nice if you are); you could be the best designer or a creative musician of great drive and skill; you could be of course a creative

scientist, like Fred Sanger after whom our Maths and Science building is named; or an outstanding sportsman or sportswoman. This range of opportunity to be valued allows more people to feel they can be involved and can contribute to the enterprise as a whole, than if the only way of successfully doing so is by a single academic route. And it’s why a room of Bryanstonians and Old Bryanstonians is a varied and exciting place to be.

Keeping in touch with OBs is about continuing that involvement. Reunions are held because the school wants to stay in touch with its alumni. Simple as that. The Bryanston family does not finish on the last day of term for A2s as we wave them off, bleary eyed, after the Leavers’ Ball. It carries on

long, long afterwards and it’s about connections, involvement, and support for the general purpose and ethos of the school. And having watched a marquee and a dining hall full of over 250 returning OBs I can attest to the joy in that. OBs remain interested and interesting people with much to bring to any party. I am so looking forward to our next reunion on 21 June for the years of 1964 and prior years. I think I can expect to learn still more about this great school of which I am so fortunate to be the Head. And now I am certain about what it is I want to say on such occasions and, I hope, what OBs want to hear. et nova et vetera!

Big school

I’ve been much enjoying David Walliams and Catherine Tate in their take on ‘Big School’. It’s rather nice to watch a series about a school where there is a lot of good humour involved. This morning I spoke with the 130-plus pupils who have just arrived in D (year 9) about my top ten tips for settling in to a new school and of making a great success of life at ‘Big School Bryanston’; I sincerely hope there were not too many shades of Frances de la Tour’s outstanding headmistress!

My tips for the 13-year-olds, gathered over the years from various colleagues and schools, are all about making sure you are yourself: contributing to the house and school; being busy; avoiding the easy mistakes (like not being organized enough to get stuck in). And I also advise remembering to stay in touch with your prep school, who will certainly be very pleased to hear how you are getting on.

If you are busy and active and engaged you will soon find that you are a part of the place. In a week or so’s time it will feel like you have always been here. And then begins the growth of that very productive feeling, the feeling of belonging to a community of people or, if you prefer, a large and rather unusual family.

If you feel that you belong in a place, you can draw strength from those around you and train on to be the very best version of you there can be. It’s so important in life to know that there are people who might be better than you at some things and whom you can admire and emulate. But also, that you will doubtless have your own skills, talents, interests and qualities to bring to the party. Others will want to emulate you.

I like metaphors. I often use the ballerina in the jewellery box. Bryanston is proud of being a school where not all are alike. It rejoices in the diversity of talent and contribution amongst pupils and staff. But we are not a disparate group of inward-looking individuals. We are not that lonely ballerina turning forever in her own orbit. We are a happy convocation of outward-looking and generous-minded individuals who enjoy each other’s company. And that makes each of us stronger.

It’s those human ties that let us know how we belong. And the good thing is, once learned, never forgotten! This sense of purpose and belonging lasts for life.