Life is the adventure

A few weeks ago I spoke at my last Speech Day as a Head of Bryanston School. A leitmotif of my final chance to hold forth to a full Greek Theatre was of not outstaying one’s welcome and knowing when it is the right time to stay or to go. I used one of my favourite poems, which I quoted on my first Speech Day at Bryanston 14 years ago, as part of the text. 

Ithaka

As you set out for Ithaka

hope your road is a long one,

full of adventure, full of discovery.

Laistrygonians, Cyclops,

angry Poseidon—don’t be afraid of them:

you’ll never find things like that on your way

as long as you keep your thoughts raised high,

as long as a rare excitement

stirs your spirit and your body.

Laistrygonians, Cyclops,

wild Poseidon—you won’t encounter them

unless you bring them along inside your soul,

unless your soul sets them up in front of you.

Hope your road is a long one.

May there be many summer mornings when,

with what pleasure, what joy,

you enter harbors you’re seeing for the first time;

may you stop at Phoenician trading stations

to buy fine things,

mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony,

sensual perfume of every kind—

as many sensual perfumes as you can;

and may you visit many Egyptian cities

to learn and go on learning from their scholars.

Keep Ithaka always in your mind.

Arriving there is what you’re destined for.

But don’t hurry the journey at all.

Better if it lasts for years,

so you’re old by the time you reach the island,

wealthy with all you’ve gained on the way,

not expecting Ithaka to make you rich.

Ithaka gave you the marvelous journey.

Without her you wouldn't have set out.

She has nothing left to give you now.

And if you find her poor, Ithaka won’t have fooled you.

Wise as you will have become, so full of experience,

you’ll have understood by then what these Ithakas mean.

C. P. Cavafy

(Translated by Edmund Keeley)

For me this is the most remarkable poem, and for many reasons. It talks of life as something one shouldhope will be an adventure, a road full of discovery. It talks about the monsters you will find onyour way: the Laestrygonians, Cyclopes, and even an angry Poseidon. It talks too of summer mornings and the many harbours you will find where you can buy fine things. Of visiting Egyptian cities to learn (and go on learning) from their scholars. It talks of perhaps,and if so, only finally, finding Ithaka, your homeland to which you will return, and of not being disappointed if she seems now poor after your life well-travelled. Because the point of life is the travel: the point of life is the adventure.

I don’t think I quite knew what I was taking on 14 years ago; I find that Cavafy means just as much or more to me now, as I push off from this harbour and move on to the next. I shall not pretend that I have not met my fair share of Laestrygonians and even the odd Cyclops in my time here. I like Cavafy’s point that we tend to bring these monsters with us; it’s how we respond to the travelling, the adventure, those monsters, and the joyful engagements that life is all about. 

But, oh how the wonderful moments far outshine these monsters. And these wonderful moments are mainly, but not completely, formed around our pupils. That’s why people join the teaching profession: being involved with growing minds and their nurture is the greatest privilege. 

Kairos esti. More Greek, this time ancient. It’s the right time. That sense that, although one’s job may never be fully completed and although there’s always more you can do, that you still love a place and its people, that the mission is as clear as ever, it is, nevertheless, time to move on. It is for me and it is too for our departing A2s. Most of them joined us five years ago and, boy, they’ve grown along the way. Zeynep, our wonderful Head Girl, dancing her socks off here, learning how to stretch right outside her comfort zone, and off to study History of Art and to continue to excel. Some of that is predictable, but I might have expected her to settle for merely being an international skier: not Zeynep. Then Cameron, our Head Boy, who joined us just two years ago in the sixth form, who is my first Head Boy who joined in A3. Cameron’s drive, energy and passion to get things done and done right is a lesson to us all. Together he and Zeynep have led a superb group of prefects and I could not be more proud of all of them. Or of Kate and Amadea off to top music schools in London. Or Sumei off to Durham perhaps, for Modern Languages, to be followed by a Masters in Music, I hope: with a voice like Sumei’s, surely she must! Or Freddie winning not one but two organ scholarships to two prestigious universities and a further one to St Paul’s Within the Walls, Rome and still loving a good suit and a proper cup of tea. Or Luca and his outstanding music and contributions to it all. Or Clara and her remarkable drama. (Will I ever get over her portrayal of me?) Or Callum and his ability to lead, drive, and succeed. Or Molly; wherever she chooses to go to university she’ll be brilliant, and then on, no doubt, to run a small country somewhere. Or Frankie off to Loughborough via Singapore.   Do they represent the hope of our prospectus? To produce well-rounded 18-year-olds ready to go out and contribute to the world. Yes, they do. Is that what we all hope for our children? Lord, I hope so. I want all the A2s to be able to move on and do something. To keep doing and be happy. To be involved and engaged. To know their real worth and what they can bring to the enterprise, whether that’s a ski season in Japan or linguistics at Oxford, I don’t mind. But I do think they should be equipped to deal with this world and to do so in a way which will bring them joy, as Cavafy promises us, on their own road to Ithaka.

As our departing A2s leave to travel along that road, I commend to them first these famous words of Tennessee Williams:

The world can be violent and mercurial and always has been. It will have its way with you. We are saved only by LOVE. Love of each other. Love that we pour into the art that we feel compelled to share. By being a parent, being a writer, being a painter, being a friend.

And finally in my own last words to all A2s: Go out and spread the Bryanston message. The world needs it. Be wonderful. Be an aardvark, a flamingo or a tiger. But, whatever you do, be yourself. And don’t be a sheep. BAAA!

We would like to thank Sarah Thomas for her outstanding leadership of Bryanston throughout her 14 years as Head. We wish Sarah and her family all the best as they set out on the next part of their journey to Ithaka. The next edition of the OB Magazine will include a full valete to Sarah.

Why go to university?

In this week’s Bryanston Blog, Head of Sixth Form Ian McClary considers the reasons for going to university.

According to a report published in July last year by Universities UK, a university education is a powerful tool for social mobility and economic empowerment. Yet, on the other hand, there is also research pointing to rising rates of mental ill health among students who feel overwhelmed by debt and the rising cost of living. A recent study by the Sutton Trust also estimated that graduate debt in England is higher on average than any other English-speaking country.

And so, faced with such a financial burden, with more people than ever before proceeding to full-time higher education, perhaps we should ask the question: why go to university?

Many talk about the value of the university experience, but what exactly do they mean? Is it the process of rigorous academic endeavour, leading to a mark of intellectual distinction being bestowed on the individual in the form of a BA or a BSc? There are those who would argue that the sheer number of degrees being awarded these days, not to mention the proliferation of lightweight or ‘Mickey Mouse’ degrees, has devalued that currency.

Others might define the university experience more in terms of working out who you are, what you want, what you believe in, what your place in society is and could be, whilst also studying something you enjoy, find interesting or which is even, perhaps, relevant to intended future employment. But then, you don’t have to go to university and generate a large amount of debt in order to do this. And we’ve all heard of those for whom university was just a three-year-long party and a way of avoiding the inevitable question: what am I going to do when I grow up?

Others, still, might say that university is the new sixth form. In ‘the olden days’ the sixth form used to be about more freedom, time to explore and specialise, having more time for extra-curricular pursuits. Not so much nowadays. With the advent of league tables and the inevitable grades arms race, many schools have increasingly directed and regimented sixth formers’ time, facilitating a frantic scramble for places at universities marketing themselves as elite. The sixth form, sadly, can become all about getting the grades (two of which, if they are doing A levels, usually being a means to an end) to get them into a ‘good’ university, deferring the freedom, the exploration and the breadth that the sixth form should also have.

And so, when young people get to university, it can often be a shock to the system. Not only might they not really know what university is for, they also don’t know how to be independent, take ownership of and direct their learning, or manage their time and set priorities, because their schools had continued to do that for them. Thankfully, at Bryanston, the emphasis has always been on coaching rather than drilling and it is reassuring to hear OBs reporting time and again that they made the transition to university life very smoothly because they found Bryanston, and its sixth form in particular, such a good preparation for it.

Nevertheless, it appears to me that a lot of young people, Bryanstonians included, tend to see university as simply what comes next, rather than thinking about what it should be for them and what they need (and want) to get out of it. They won’t be told exactly what to do. Their university experience will, for the most part, be what they make it. If it’s not going to provide (or they are not going to engage with) intellectual and academic rigour, what’s the point? If they are going to distract themselves constantly and waste opportunities to understand themselves better and the world around them, what’s the point? If they are going to do the bare minimum, underachieve and leave without the skills and experiences which will help to future proof them, what’s the point? A degree is not a free pass to a better life. It never was, despite what statistics will say about employability and earnings potential. But as many of us know, it can be one of the most formative and enriching experiences of one’s life.

We need to be asking young people “Why go to university?” Essentially, it is about finding the right path for the individual. As teachers, advisers and parents we should spend as much time helping our young people to understand that university isn’t just what comes next, as we do helping them decide what to study; encouraging them to explore alternatives to the traditional, full-time undergraduate degree experience: living at home, part-time study, apprenticeships, the Open University, combined with whatever work experience/internships they can access in order to demonstrate a wider range of academic, professional and personal skills.

Whichever route they decide on, it is important to realise that for the next three (or more) years they will make their own university/apprenticeship/work experience, regardless of what they have to pay, and that they will surely get out as much, and no more, as they put in.

Balancing act

This week Sarah Thomas reflects on the importance of balance - a topic she covered on Speech Day last weekend.

At Speech Day this year I spoke of balance and how to keep it in this turbulent and unpredictable world. I even made reference to Weebles. For those of you who were not children of the 1970s, Weebles were egg-shaped toys, weighted so that, if you pushed them over, they always bounced back upright. “Weebles wobble,” the advert ran, “but they don’t fall down.” I think Weebles could be the icon for these turbulent times. 

A year and a half ago would we have believed we would be coming out of Europe? Seeing scenes of terrorism and heroism again on the streets of Manchester and London? Enduring another inconclusive General Election? And let’s try not to mention President Trump. So how are we to deal with all this, in our own families and in school? How do we aim for our pupils to stay balanced?

At Bryanston we offer the widest range of opportunities we can. We teach creatively and we offer the right level of encouragement and guidance, both inside and outside the classroom. We don’t expect anyone, child or adult, to be perfect. Indeed, to expect that creates a toxic effect for any child, however talented. We talk about our own wellbeing and are honest about our need for support, whether from exercise or music, or meditation, or God. Which reminds me of a Boris Johnson story I heard recently. In an interview about his Christian faith, he described it as “like tuning in to Virgin Radio

whilst driving through the Chilterns. Sometimes the signal is strong; sometimes you lose it.” A really lovely metaphor. We encourage our pupils to keep tuning in to a support system which works for them, and we let them know that’s what we, in our imperfect way, do for ourselves.

A key way we stay balanced at Bryanston is through positivity and this comes, in part, through engagement in good times. It is important to celebrate achievement and good times, as we did at Speech Day last weekend, and indeed do throughout the year. 

But finding balance isn’t easy. And it’s different for everyone. You can’t necessarily teach it in classrooms. You can’t measure it in exams. So it’s not something that many schools are prepared to shout about. Certainly not those which boast exclusively about their academic achievements. Or those which fail to recognise the connection between unreasonable academic pressure and mental health issues. Or those which shy away from the truth that so much of our educational landscape was designed to meet 20th- century challenges. In the future, our young people will need balance as

much as they will need imagination; creativity; perspective; the ability to take a step back, to take a wider view, to make links and connections; to have good ideas; to make difficult and brave decisions. Show me how each A level can test those skills. Yet a school which is not passionate about these things is not, in my view, doing its job.

As we wish our departing pupils farewell and look forward to welcoming a new intake in September, I hope that each Bryanstonian gets what they want from life and, above all, that they channel their own Weeble and find their individual balance.

You can see more photos from Speech Day here.

Individual breadth

This week Edrys Barkham, Bryanston's Director of Admissions, explains the need for a balance between breadth and depth in education.

One of the defining characteristics of the primate family is intelligence. Juveniles of all species have an innate curiosity and a propensity to innovate. Learning is achieved through copying adults; there is some fascinating research showing that young bonobos take years to learn the skill of using stones to crack nuts, with varying degrees of success, by imitating their mothers.

Humans have finessed the transmission of culture from one generation to another by using language to pass on information as well as skills and this has been at the foundation of our cultural evolution. Many societies have developed formal education systems to ensure the transmission of knowledge. In Ancient Greece pupils (only boys!) were expected to gain information across a wide range of subjects by questioning their mentors. In early Islamic civilisation the purpose of education was to equip an individual to be an upstanding citizen, aware of their responsibilities to the world, society and God, and only through knowledge could an understanding of their own talents be realised. To be considered well educated in Europe during the Renaissance required knowledge of a broad range of subjects and the polymath was celebrated. Increasingly, the scope of our modern education system seems to be becoming more focused than ever before with a prescriptive and narrow choice of subjects, particularly post-16.

The new A levels appear to be enforcing a sort of intellectual monogamy on sixth formers with the majority nationally studying just three subjects, each of which is closed off and taught in isolation. This specialisation at A level has led to education in some schools becoming a quest for top grades and with the emphasis on the academic outcome at the cost of the co-curricular. We believe that by encouraging our pupils to explore their full range of talents through a breadth of activities and opportunities, our pupils are able to explore what they are really capable of achieving. Through the co-curricular programme, children can discover their own particular strengths and enhance their natural skills, helping them to develop confidence. Knowing they are good at a range of things gives them the confidence to tackle the areas they find more difficult and to develop grit. It is not possible for everyone to accomplish this level of self-knowledge and confidence solely in the classroom.

There is a fine balancing act between breadth and depth: a pupil with an academic bent will naturally be encouraged to study hard and explore a wide range of subjects, but not at the expense of playing sport, learning a musical instrument or taking up a range of hobbies and interests. At Bryanston, it is not unusual to the see a first team player take the leading role on stage, or for a musical soloist to compete in national academic competitions. The abundant life is celebrated and intelligence thrives.

The breadth of opportunities encapsulated in the concept of the ‘abundant life’ advocated by Thorold Coade (Bryanston Headmaster, 1932-1959) can reveal hidden talents and interests. A combination of compulsion and choice ensures all children gain insight into themselves; learning to play a musical instrument (which all Bryanston pupils in D do), having three afternoons of sport timetabled per week, getting involved in House Drama, writing for the school magazine, helping at charity events, all these activities develop a child’s confidence and belief in themselves.

Through tutorial conversations, pupils reflect on these varied activities to determine what was successful and what wasn’t and they discover what works best for them. This is a powerful tool for the future. Encouraging an adolescent to think about not only what they did, but where they did it, how they did it and how successful was the outcome further adds to their repertoire of understanding what makes them tick. The reflective process helps develop the pupil into a self-directed learner, able to focus on improving themselves and encouraging a problem-solving approach to learning in all areas. Engaging in a wide range of activities, academic and co-curricular, broadens the mind, encourages creativity and builds confidence for tackling new problems.

In an increasingly complicated and multifaceted world, creative and innovative thinkers are needed to solve global problems with new ideas, or to use old ideas in new ways. A wide-ranging education where pupils are able to develop their own individual breadth of talents and interests will, we hope, result in broad-minded, independent thinking, creative citizens for the future.

Why IB?

Sophie Duncker

This week we welcome Bryanston's Head of IB, Sophie Duncker, who explains why she thinks pupils benefit from studying the IB Diploma.

Why would a pupil choose the IB at sixth form? There are many who believe that IB pupils are constantly studying with no time for anything else and that A levels are the easier, safer route.

I don’t agree! Yes, it can seem challenging at first glance, but the benefits that pupils gain through studying the IB Diploma are considerable. And as to constantly studying? IB pupils at Bryanston are fully involved in school life: last year’s cohort included the Heads of School, three prefects, the captain of the rowing team, several lead actors in school theatre productions, and a soloist in the Dance Band. Indeed, the IB actively encourages pupils to get involved in a range of activities alongside their studies through CAS (Creativity, Action, Service), a part of the ‘core’ of the IB Diploma programme.

The breadth of the IB, in both the subjects studied and combination of assessment methods, enables pupils to develop a much wider view of both their studies and their personal approach to learning. With six subjects, plus the ‘core’ of Theory of Knowledge, Extended Essay and CAS, pupils not only quickly develop strong organisational skills, they also learn how to be flexible and thrive outside their comfort zone. All key skills for their later lives.

While the range of subjects studied in the IB Diploma programme is an obvious benefit and the holistic approach to these subjects highlights how they are linked to each other in the real world, pupils also have the opportunity to delve into one area in depth as part of their Extended Essay (EE). The EE is an independent research project which allows pupils to investigate a topic related to one of their six chosen subjects and which is of special interest to them. Not only do pupils develop a deep understanding of their chosen topic, they also gain practical experience that will prepare them for undergraduate research.

The IB really can be the choice for every pupil – a scientist too will need to ‘think out of the box’, to consider ethical questions and be able to express themselves both in his or her own language, as well as in others. Some see a very clear route through school and a choice of one and only one university before them; then A levels may be a credible alternative to the IB. The choice however isn’t necessarily between A Levels and IB, but between specialising and widening horizons.

The lighting of fires

A million years ago when I was learning to teach we were set a question: why do we learn what we learn? It is a question that has haunted the teaching profession for as long as it has existed. Socrates, a teacher of aristocratic young men, thought education was all about asking the right questions so that one could live a good life. That didn’t go entirely well for him as the teacher; he ended up put to death. We didn’t push ourselves that hard at King’s College London in 1986.

Nowadays, what the government thinks we ought to teach in our classrooms (which might, I suppose, be the same as what they think pupils ought to learn) is called the national curriculum. Maths, Science and English are the core subjects. Modern Foreign Languages were taken out of that core some years ago and the numbers of pupils studying them nationally are now in something of a free fall (particularly in French and German). Teachers of Art, Music and Drama worry like mad, particularly in the state sector, because they aren’t compulsory and so may not attract the numbers of pupils required to sustain the subject. There’s every danger, in my view, of too few pupils doing anything more than the bare minimum if the curriculum is treated in this way. It is reductionist thinking and it is damaging.

Such reductionism does a disservice to all subjects. My first Head of Department, when I was a junior chalkie at Sevenoaks School in 1987, used to describe Maths at GCSE as a ‘licence to bore’, because pupils were compelled to study it and the teacher could assume there would always be an audience. Maths is so much more than that, of which I am now getting glimpses, thanks to assemblies from our Head of Maths, Alex Hartley, upon subjects as diverse as Alan Turing and Euler. How dreadful to reduce Maths to ‘you need to do this’ or ‘because I say so’. Stephen Winkley, ex Head Master at Uppingham School, used to like winding up those who taught compulsory subjects by suggesting that most 15-year-old pupils would far prefer doing Drama GCSE than being compelled to do, let’s say, Physics. In my view, the best response to this mischief is in explaining the joy of Physics, rather than resorting to the argument of ‘you have to do it’ or, even worse, the clearly meretricious argument that Physics is the more ‘useful’ subject.

At school we expect to learn those things we need to know to keep us healthy and safe; to enable us to do the things which matter to us; and, I would hope, to expand our minds. Some children find their minds expanded most in the undertaking of practical tasks; a design project, for example. (I can still in my mind’s eye see a current B pupil proudly wheeling his GCSE design coursework, a rather large drinks cabinet, into his hsm’s study at the end of last term!) Some find their world most enriched by the study of an ancient or modern language. Others will always prefer their intelligence to be fed by Art, or Music, or Drama; still others will find their talent best expressed on the cricket or rugby pitch, whilst very blessed souls will discover they can do, and enjoy, all of these things. The key to all learning however, is that most wonderful of human organs: the imagination.

We are more than mere drones who have to learn Maths so we can add up, or French so we can buy a baguette. Learning is about feeding our souls, our emotions and our imaginations. Maths is about big ideas, answering big questions, and seeing our world aright; French is about accessing a rich culture and literature as well as being part of a wider world than the Anglophone. And of course my own subject, Classics, is about it all. What is it to be a human being? How do you live a good life? And, to my mind, the best literature and philosophy in the world. All of these subjects, in their different ways, feed the mind, the spirit, the imagination. They allow us to glimpse the marvellous.

‘Nothing could be known about the world unless it was first pre-formed and transformed by the synthetic power of imagination.’ 

Kearney, Wake of Imagination

In the voyage of discovery that is teaching and learning, let us not forget the importance of the abstract; the importance of concept. To paraphrase W. B. Yeats, let’s not fill empty pails but light a whole range of different fires. Then our children might develop into the positive, creative, problem-solving adults the world needs them to be. And be happy, fulfilled souls too.



To find out more about the ongoing debate on creativity in schools, listen to the fascinating TED talk from 2006 by Sir Ken Robinson here.

What is best for the children? Part two: Developing resilience

Edrys Barkham

Continuing on from her blog last week on the pressures of parenting, Edrys Barkham looks this week at how we can all help our children develop the life skills and resilience for a happy and successful adult life.

This week I look at how, in our aspirations to bring up our children safely and educate them for the future, we may be losing valuable opportunities for them to develop some of those important, but less easily measured, life skills, such as creativity, sociability and emotional resilience. If every hour of a child’s life is structured, that child might be busily engaged and learn a wide range of facts, but they may be missing out on their emotional development. Watching the recent Channel 4 series Child Genius suggests that minutely managing their learning doesn’t actually make them happier children.

In addition, stories in the media can make parents increasingly fearful about leaving their children unsupervised to play. Children pick up on these concerns and they can become afraid of challenge and develop a risk adverse approach to life as a result. Whilst it is essential to ensure that children are not put at unnecessary risk, it is important that they get the opportunities to develop a sense of freedom and responsible risk-taking. When toddlers learn to walk we make their environment as safe as possible but don’t stop them walking to avoid them falling over. When they inevitably do, we pick them up, rub their knees and set them off again. They learn through trial and error and rapidly gain confidence in taking steps towards their independence.

Around puberty another developmental milestone happens: the brain undergoes changes in preparation for adulthood. The changes disrupt executive function, so a teenager’s ability to plan, organise and prioritise is disturbed and they tend to take more risks, whilst lacking the ability to predict the outcomes of their actions. To acquire the executive function skills required for adult life they need to learn how to judge risk and to have the chance to put things right when they have gone wrong. These are important life skills that lead to the development of resilience and emotional robustness. It is important to provide opportunities that allow teenagers to explore their own limits and venture outside their comfort zone safely. At Bryanston these opportunities include the sports facilities, the outdoor education programme, Duke of Edinburgh Award and the wide range of extra-curricular activities, among other things. These activities are closely monitored and houseparents, tutors, teachers, matrons and other staff are around to step in and offer guidance and advice to get things back on track when pupils start to struggle. These timely interventions help to show pupils how to correct a situation and move on and, in so doing, develop the emotional resilience that will help them on their way to a successful and happy adult life.

Judith Carlisle, Head at Oxford High School for Girls, recently said that children learn more when they don’t get it right and that it is important to teach pupils to manage failure. By contrast, the recent government obsession with international PISA results is leading to policies of measuring children’s academic performance in a way that makes it appear the only value of a child is their academic grades. There is a danger that children, from an early age, learn to be fearful of making a mistake and there are children who prefer to say or write nothing for fear of getting an answer wrong.

Psychological research suggests learning through trial and error helps children realise they can improve. They understand that a wrong answer is not a failure, it is a step in the right direction. Reflecting on what went wrong with a teacher or peer can help a child learn more effectively than they can by just being indoctrinated with a series of correct answers. Through conversations with teachers, like the tutorials and correction periods we have at Bryanston, pupils can understand that they learn a great deal from having the courage to have a go, even if the outcome is not wholly correct. By discussing what went well and what didn’t, they learn how to put things right and how to avoid making the same mistake in the future, in both the academic and the pastoral areas of school life.

We believe our educational approach of encouraging curricular and extra-curricular breadth allows children to discover their whole range of talents; recognising their hard work and effort in all areas of the school helps children understand that they are valued for who they are rather than what they can achieve. We acknowledge that children realising their academic potential with us is important, but the education of the whole child is more valuable still, so that well rounded, confident and resilient young adults leave us at the end of their school days to become successful, well motivated and productive members of society.

Thrift and adventure

We welcome Ian McClary, Head of Sixth Form at Bryanston, with his guest blog on the importance of the co-curricular Current Affairs Programme.


In the current educational climate, in which we chase ever higher grades at traditionally respected

Ian McClary

universities, it can look like something of an extravagance to devote two periods each week to a co-curricular, non-examined lecture for a year group preparing for essential IB and A level exams (especially with no January exam session as a safety net). Nevertheless, the A2 Current Affairs programme remains a mainstay of the sixth form academic enrichment programme because, as Winston Churchill's mother put it, thrift and adventure seldom go hand in hand. And these talks are, in a way, mini adventures. They provide the pupils with insights into worlds and realms of experience perhaps unthought of or unreflected upon, and they broaden their moral and cultural horizons along the way.

As well as being very well received by pupils, providing an enjoyable and stimulating feature of their weekly timetable, their real value lies in the questions raised by this series of talks. Questions which, very often, we don't realise need asking, for example: why are there around 500 cults operating in the UK and how might we be vulnerable to their influence? Does Britain now hate men? Why, through examining the bizarre life cycle of a jellyfish, should we have more respect for our oceans and take marine conservation much more seriously? How easy is it to end up in prison and what challenges might face us on the inside? How have we lost touch with our musical heritage and why are we the poorer for it? Is Britain really broken? How do failed states abroad impact upon our lives at home?

As well as being thought provoking, I have also found that these talks can give direction and focus to future aspirations and plans. At the end of a talk about the world of marine biology, everything fell into place for one pupil as she realised exactly what she wanted to study at university and, more importantly, why. Another pupil, lacking confidence in his abilities as a writer, found great inspiration in a man who managed to hone his skills in one of America's toughest jails, smuggling out his work on pieces of toilet paper written on with a pencil sharpened on his cell wall. It was also touching to see a group of budding musicians remaining behind after a talk on the history of popular music to sit at the feet of a master and hang on his every word.

And some of the talks are also just plain fascinating. From an exploration of how exactly hypnosis works, to an explanation of how police forces solve major crimes, to a personal account of what it was like to be a spy in the Cold War, the A2 Current Affairs programme is enriching in so many ways. It is an extravagance but it is also, I believe, a necessity. It is a welcome prospect at the end of a busy week and year on year the pupils ensure that the next cohort approach this compulsory lecture on a Saturday morning eagerly and with an open mind, for which I am extremely grateful.