Carpe Diem – ‘seize the day’

My Latin teacher, Charles Whittle, was delightfully eccentric. He was also my Housemaster and thus had a significant impact on my teenage life. One of his favourite sayings was ‘Carpe Diem’ – seize the day – and he took great delight in awarding us Polo mints for correct answers in lessons, clean shoes on parade and if we could correctly guess what the front page illustration on ‘Field’ magazine was to be in a particular month. He was unfailing in encouraging pupils to take up every possible opportunity. It was his encouragement which led me to learn croquet, to compete hard in cross-country running and to develop an interest in diary writing – as well as to like green ink! ‘Carpe diem, Reid. You never know what a new day might bring.’  

Now normal

And so we have arrived, after something akin to a ‘Big Dipper’ ride over the past six months, to a new academic year. My general school emails (part of an online forum) are full of queries about ‘bubbles’, how best to hold socially-distanced staff meetings, whether or not Carol Services can happen with no congregational singing and how assemblies / chapels can take place in any reasonable form. As one Head has said to me, ‘It’s not a new normal in view of COVID-19, but a now normal. I don’t want this current situation to be normal at all!’

A massive opportunity

Despite it all, I remain amazed and encouraged by all those associated with schools who are embracing the challenges and coming up with exciting ways to ‘seize the day’. One of our overseas’ boarding school Heads is coping with online learning across four time zones but still managing to consider a whole-school Zoom scavenger hunt as part of developing community away from school. Some Heads are making yet more of learning outdoors (where masks are required less often) and one Chaplain we spoke to recently is relishing continuing with online chapel where he is able to reach into homes and not just school. As he said, ‘This is a massive opportunity for the gospel but it will also bring greater pressure and scrutiny on chapel and what we say.’  TISCA has also decided to move our prefects’ training online which removes geographical borders and this has allowed at least one international school (based in India) to participate!

Be strong and courageous

The story is told of two UK rival shoe manufacturers in the early 1900s who sent representatives to the Caribbean islands to check out sale prospects. After several weeks of market research, one rep sent a telegram home: ‘They don’t wear shoes here. Coming home next boat’. The other also messaged his boss: ‘They don’t wear shoes here. Send 10,000 pairs next boat’. 

I wonder how we might best ‘Carpe Diem’ even when we find ourselves in times we don’t like and even fear? Just as we were preparing for the start of the new academic year, a TISCA chaplain told me about the Scripture verse a colleague had given him to put on his desk – and it’s one we would do well to be reminded of daily, too:

‘Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go’ (Joshua 1:9)

The Beautiful Game?

End of the season

And so we have reached the end of the English Premier League season – almost a year on from when it started. It turned out to be the longest season ever but won in almost the shortest time by Liverpool FC – and with nearly the highest points total (99) of all time. My wife and I have just won our family’s Fantasy Football league (of 10 sides) and wrested the trophy (a rather over large tea mug) from our younger daughter. It was close, though, with a mere 21 points in it after the final whistle.

The Saints

My sporting tastes now are quite wide and varied but football was my first love. When home ‘on leave’ from Africa, my Dad would take me to our team’s ground at Love Street in Paisley, Scotland – home to St Mirren FC. (My Dad was selected to play for St Mirren as a goalkeeper just as World War II was finishing and so the team is close to his heart.) As a youngster I would get in to Love Street for free so long as I was light enough for him to lift me over the turnstile. Then it was down to the front of the terraces, wearing my black and white scarf, to cheer on ‘the Buddies’ – or, more easily, ‘the Saints’ as this went better with our song, ‘Oh when the saints go marching in‘. We rarely did particularly well, but the pennant in my office reminds me (in my own handwriting) that we did win the old First Division in 1977 and then the Scottish Championship in 2018.

Embarrassing

It was in another competition, however, that I had a most embarrassing moment. In September 1977, just four days before our wedding, I took my fiancee and my Dad to watch St Mirren play Fulham (in London) in the first leg quarter-final of the Anglo- Scottish Cup. We arrived a few minutes late at Craven Cottage and cheered on the team in black and white to a first half goal. It was only in the half-time break that we realised we had been cheering on the wrong team (Fulham play in black and white and were, of course, the home team). We switched allegiance to the correct team for the second half (playing in red) and were again rewarded with a goal. So, whilst my lovely wife has continued to rib me about this to this day, we did at least have the fun of supporting the winning team in each half (and St Mirren did go on to be runners-up in the final that season).

Religious fervour

St Mirren’s trophy cabinet may be smaller than most, but watching the final matches of this season in England reminded me of the passion, which is close to religious fervour, that many people put into their football teams and which I sometimes witnessed on the Love Street terraces – and certainly when I occasionally ventured to Ibrox to see Glasgow Rangers play. The Swedish band, Rednex, released a country-dance song in 2008 called ‘Football is our religion‘ and Pele once famously said, ‘Football is like a religion to me. I worship the ball and treat it like a god‘. His arch rival for the title of the greatest player of all time, Diego Maradona, once confused his own hand with God’s – to England’s dismay. There has, of course, been a long history of the involvement of Christianity and association football. In the Nineteenth Century, ‘Muscular Christianity’ encouraged the game for its physical and social benefits and churches established several of what we would regard today as some of the leading UK clubs: Celtic, Everton, Manchester City and Southampton (the ‘other’ Saints), to name but a few.  St Mirren is named after Saint Mirin (an Irish missionary monk who died in c 620 AD) and St Johnstone is named after St John the Baptist. In Northern Ireland, Glentoran FC had a sign with ‘Jesus’ on it at its Oval ground until, moving with the times we might say, an advertising hoarding claimed that space. Its rival club at Portadown FC, however, proudly displays the sign, ‘Life without Jesus makes no sense‘.

You’ll never walk alone

I suppose I risk the wrath of millions of football fans the world over to say that whilst football is ‘only’ a game, the ‘game of life’ is indeed meaningless without Jesus.  Bill Shankly would have had us believe that football isn’t a matter of live and death – but is actually much more important than that. I wonder. The ‘Beautiful Game’ is taking a break now in the UK – at least as far as the professional form is concerned – and I hope (and pray) that this is time for its players, organisers and supporters to consider where God’s hand really is, who the true Saints are and that even football has to face up to the fact that ‘Life without Jesus makes no sense’. Liverpool FC’s anthem, ‘You’ll never walk alone‘,  contains the lyric, ‘At the end of the storm, There’s a golden sky‘ . Let’s indeed ‘walk on, with hope in (our) heart‘ and remember that we do not walk alone – if only we acknowledge, ‘Life without Jesus makes no sense‘.

 

A ‘new normal’?

I’m an urban spaceman

One of the more intriguing group of musicians of the 1960s went by the wonderfully tongue-in-cheek name of: ‘Bonzo Dog Doo-bah Band’ with its particularly successful single: ‘I’m an urban Spaceman.’ Another of their psychedelic pop/comedy rock singles in the ’80s was entitled ‘Normals.’ Being sucked along what sounds like an hermetically-sealed conveyor belt, ‘normals’ are processed and gawped at by a spoof inspectorate. ‘You think you’re normal?’ Here comes one…he’s got a head on him like a rabbit.’ Chorus: ‘We are normal and we want our freedom.’

Trauma

But what is ‘normal?’ Last week I attended an online course for Trauma and Bereavement where we were informed that trauma occurs when core human beliefs are threatened: 1) That nothing bad is going to happen to us 2) That the world’s generally predictable and 3) That people are essentially decent. The last few months have shaken these first two beliefs and things we counted as dependable – employment, financial security, and uninhibited socialising have seemed certain no longer, and normality itself seems like an endangered species.

In the West, we are largely screened from the unpredictability of much of the world’s experience where people are victims of volatile weather conditions, despotic governments and relentless poverty, but the Corona pandemic has united the world in a shared experience which has left humanity reeling, and, of course, it is the poorer nations and the poorer within our own communities who are left to suffer its after-effects most.

Creatures of habit

We are essentially creatures of habit and we crave for a return to that which we know, a safe retreat to patterns of living with which we are familiar. We in our own community hope that in this vaccine-lacking limbo-land, still we seek to emulate that which we have known and yet mindful of the need to change and adapt as the virus follows its course. Aside the need to adjust technologically and respect social distancing, what are we bringing to our shared existence that can enhance our common experience and raise standards within normality? It would be my hope and prayer that a deeper understanding of what it is to value each individual made in the image of God would emerge and a real comprehension that there is more to life than riches, success and fame.

A new normality might require us to look again at Jesus’ model of real servanthood, ‘washing the feet’ of the unlovely, the rejected and the outcast and tending the wounds of those who are being mentally scarred by lockdown and the effects of the virus.

A new normal of compassion and sensitivity

Being normal and wanting our freedom is perfectly understandable but not desirable if it’s an inappropriate return to mass raves in gathered spaces or unthinking frequenting to known beauty spots – that is the old selfish gene rearing its ugly head. But if it means freedom from: mental anguish, loss of direction and being without purpose in life and we are the agents of this to one another, in the name of an outpouring of sensitivity and compassion then let it be, dear Lord, let it be. But is it new? Only if we’ve never tried it.

(A guest blog, with kind permission, by one of our TISCA chaplains, Revd Alex Aldous)

Why bother training Prefects?

(This is an article written by me and put out by the Association of Christian Teachers, ACT, as part of their Campaign emails to members.)

This was the question put to me early on in my first Headship. It seemed to be coming from, in my opinion, someone with an unrealistically egalitarian view of schools and how they should be managed. I listened, though, as it was a parent who made the remark – and parental influence beyond the school gates was growing!

As someone who has worked in schools with hierarchical and, sometimes, powerful Prefect bodies I was keen as a Head to challenge perceptions of pupil leaders – and not least those which might be regarded as old fashioned and outmoded. (I am, no doubt, also influenced by my own boarding school upbringing at a time when Prefects still had ‘fags’ and could impose substantial punishments.)

Appointing or electing pupil leaders?

As I took up my first Headship I can remember challenging the very notion of staff appointing a select band of senior pupils to wield authority over their younger peers. It became readily apparent that not only did pupils expect some of their number to be recognised as leaders but that they also presumed they would have a part in their selection. (It was often staff who questioned this notion of ‘the select few’ and, naturally, parents who made their feelings known if their child was not one of these.) And so it was that out of this experience (as well as a fresh appreciation for the life-lesson value of pupil leaders) I came to look for ways to streamline the selection of pupil leaders and, thereafter, to provide appropriate training.

Every school will have their own ways of selecting pupil leaders (whatever name they go by). In my last two schools, pupils had to apply in writing, be interviewed and then come through a secret ballot of their peer group. Senior Management would have the final ‘say’ but would rarely, if ever, go beyond the ‘vote’. Having made the selection – and allowed for others to join the group as they matured – we would move to training in-school and also, wherever possible, out of school. We can all learn so much  about our leadership style and approach when in the challenging company of other like-minded people from outside our immediate environment. “As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another.” Proverbs 27:17.  TISCA (The Independent Schools Christian Alliance) has sought to assist schools over the past 15 years and more in doing this for pupil leaders – in what we call ‘Prefect Training’.

Training days

Each year TISCA run two separate training days: one is for junior leaders (drawn from Years 6-8); the other is for senior leaders in Years 11, 12 and 13.

TISCA do not expect any faith commitment from those attending, but do explore Jesus’ remarks about ‘servant-leadership’ and consider situations likely to be encountered in the school context.

TISCA originally had only independent school pupils attending but in recent years academy students have begun to join these training sessions. There is a charge of around £40 per pupil to attend. This helps cover the cost of lunch and refreshments.

If COVID-19 restrictions persist then TISCA will offer an online course. Otherwise the student will join at a single location. Full details of the training (Thursday, 17th September for Juniors and Thursday, 24th September for Seniors) can be found by following this link:

https://tisca.org.uk/2020/06/18/prefect-training-days-twenty-twenty/

And so, ‘why bother training Prefects?’ Invite your students to join the course and find out – they will be very welcome! If you are not in a position to get students involved, then please pray for these two days which we hope will help to train leaders for the future.

Cross your fingers?

I wonder if you, like me, get a little cross when someone uses this expression (and even action) when they hope for something to happen: ‘I’ve got my fingers crossed‘? Someone else might say ‘touch wood‘ when they, too, want something to take place or to try and gain good luck.

Superstitious expressions

Both of these expressions have their origins in pre-Christian and also in early Christian times. To cross one’s fingers was used to invoke God’s blessing and even to ward off evil, including when a person coughed or sneezed. ‘Touch wood‘ might also refer to touching the wooden cross of Christ but its origins seem to be much earlier as an expression: it derives from pantheistic religions where trees were supposedly inhabited by deities. If you expressed a hope for the future you should touch or knock on wood to prevent malevolent spirits hearing and so prevent your hopes coming true.

Present Hope

I have, however, been forced to reconsider the expressions which I have been using and which also might quite reasonably be annoying others. In particular I have been writing (and saying), ‘I hope you are safe and well‘ as I have communicated with people in these virus-afflicted times. What exactly do I mean by ‘hope’?  In itself ‘hope’ is at best an expression of concern but in English etymology it contains no guarantees: ‘I hope you are doing OK‘, ‘I hope you will get better‘, etc.  As a Christian, my ‘hope’ should be much stronger!

In Spanish the verb for ‘to hope’, ‘esperar’, is also the same as ‘to wait for’ and ‘to expect’. When a woman is pregnant she ‘esperando un bebe’. This is similar to the Biblical meanings in Hebrew and Greek of ‘hope’ but in both the Old and New Testaments we also find the word ‘hope’ tied in with a ‘trust’ in God. What are we hoping for, expecting or trusting in God in our prayers for ourselves and others? What is the ultimate purpose in our prayers during this time of crisis and in many cases, suffering?

Future Hope

Romans 8 v 22-25 (in the New Testament) speaks of the parallel of childbirth and the expectation of hope, “…as we wait eagerly for our adoption to sonship, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved…“.  It is hope in the future glory we have as an end destination of our trust in God.

As we pray for the day-to-day needs and things that will pass on earth, we are mindful that ultimately our desire is that in all things God’s will is done and that people will place their certain hope in Jesus.

I hope (and trust) that in treading this you, like me, will have been challenged to examine what we say ‘off hand’. I won’t be crossing my fingers or even touching wood as I write this – but, simply, praying that in a time of crisis my hope will be that of expectancy – an expectancy that God will bring light into our dark times, meaning in distress, and joy in unexpected places.

(With thanks to ‘Christian Values in Education’,  CVE, Scotland for inspiration)

What’s in a number?

Just recently a friend shared with me that on April 29th this year it was the 87th anniversary of the Everton v Manchester City FA Cup final. What was the fascination with this match? It was the first time players wore numbers on their shirts: Everton wore numbers 1-11 and Man City numbers 12-22.

VE Day commemoration

Many of us have also just held socially distanced street parties to commemorate another date – the 75th anniversary of the end of World War II in Europe. We celebrated on May 8th 1945 but the Russians on May 9th (as the Soviets were not happy with the Western Allies coming to terms with the German surrender a day early). My Mother recalls being in school at this time and sitting in her Geography lesson while the teacher moved flags around on a large map depicting the position of the various armies as peace approached. My Dad says he can’t remember VE Day – he was working in the shipyards on the Clyde – but it’s possible he was in the pub! (Very sadly for him the last days of the war were blighted by the death of his two cousins: they were helping out at a First Aid station when a German bomb aimed at Coates’ Mills in Paisley missed its intended target and hit their post instead.) For many, such as my wife’s family, the end of the war in Europe was a false dawn: my wife’s grandfather was still a POW of the Japanese and did not get back home until well into the Autumn of 1945 – and only then could they properly rejoice.

School numbers

At my two schools I was allocated numbers: in my Prep School I was number 58 (and apparently the 58th boy to join this new boarding school in Ayrshire) before becoming number 677 at my senior boarding school in Edinburgh (where the numbers were allocated according to your House). Having numbers meant it was easier for parents to mark up clothing and seemed to go well with the fact that you were generally known by your surname – Reid in my case – for much of your school career. (Boys with brothers, such as my best friend, Tom, had attributions after their surname: Tom’s eldest brother was Davidson Major, his second brother was Davidson Minor and Tom was Davidson Tertius.)

More Maths

We are living today in a time of crisis and once again numbers have become all important. (Not that I’m someone who’s any good with numbers: when I first took O Level Maths – yes, I am that old – I just managed a pass with a grade 6. My Maths teacher was furious: ‘Reid, you’re in set 1. You can do better than this – take the exam again next term’. I did so and promptly got a grade 7, a fail.) The Prime Minister and his medical experts are talking about the R number (sounds like an O Level equation – help), countries are being compared according to the number of virus-infected patients and, tragically, the number of those who have died. It’s all like some macabre league table.  It is all too easy to become a statistic and for us to feel insignificant and of no account.

Not a number but a name

And so I am reminded of the New Testament story of Zacchaeus. Whatever our faith position, it’s a great encouragement to read of Jesus calling out to a man who, for fear of those whose numbers he’d been fiddling as a tax collector, had effectively been self-isolating. Jesus calls him down from the sycamore tree and addresses him by name – a person whom He had never met before. Moreover, the Bible assures us that not one sparrow falls to the ground without God knowing about it – and that every hair of our heads is numbered. This is the God who goes after the one missing sheep to return it to the fold with the other 99 – and the God who welcomes the prodigal back home with open arms.

So, how ever you are feeling today, let’s remember that we are not just a number. Our ‘football shirts’ have our name on the back – with God’s name as the sponsor on the front! Oh, and by the way, Everton beat Man City 3-1 back in April 1933 at the FA Cup Final (and my Liverpool family are Everton season-ticket holders)! Stay safe and well – and remember that you are named and loved.

With thanks to Alex Aldous, chaplain of Prestfelde School, for the football numbers and idea

New beginnings and fresh opportunities

I felt very guilty yesterday as I did something for the first time: I bought some cigarettes. Let me hastily explain! I have been privileged to be involved in a volunteer support network in my home town. This sometimes involves calling someone for a chat, collecting a prescription or, as on this occasion, fetching someone’s groceries. I picked up a shopping list yesterday from a vulnerable person’s doorstep and was somewhat astonished by the relatively large sum of money in the envelope. I have clearly lived a very sheltered life! It was only when I went to the tobacco counter, noted the rolling back of the doors hiding the ‘secret stash’ and was then presented with the bill for three packets of cigarettes that I realised why I had been given so much cash in advance. The cost of the cigarettes was nearly double that of the groceries!

Teacher tasks

I recount this story not to be critical of someone’s purchase (although the frightening message on the fag packets did give me a jolt) but to highlight that we are all doing new things in these strange times. Just today I had contact with a teacher who has just ‘gone into’ school for the summer term. He recounted the number of meetings he was attending remotely – some well into the evening – and also the online lessons he was delivering on top of setting tasks, marking work and contacting home to check on the pastoral well-being of his pupils. To some extent these are all familiar tasks for a school teacher but the online medium and the lack of face-to-face contact certainly present a new adventure – and this teacher was approaching things positively in this fresh way.

Incredible creativity

I take my hat off to all those I am coming across who are sensitively and imaginatively undertaking ‘old’ tasks in new ways. There are chaplains in my network delivering ‘thoughts’ in under three minutes, complete with animations and pop-up characters; there are Heads giving rousing start-of-term addresses using clips featuring pupils working from home; sports’ staff are encouraging exercise and ball skills using minimal space in front rooms and gardens (the ‘keepy-uppy’ tasks using a hockey stick and all kinds of objects are amazing); and there are food tech teachers helping us make the most of those long-forgotten ingredients in the back of our kitchen cupboards. So many of those I have regular contact with in schools are making a virtue out of a necessity, turning a cruel situation into a creative one.

New obstacles, too

I don’t pretend, however, that these fresh opportunities are not throwing up new obstacles, too.  How can teachers, not least chaplains and form tutors, offer pastoral care without face-to-face contact? There are staff trying to support children, sometimes in dysfunctional environments at home, to stay on task with their learning, to be helpful with their parents and carers and to avoid an over-dependence on ‘devices’. Spare a thought, and a prayer, too, for those with little internet access, shared computers, mixed age and often educationally challenged young people in their homes. And then there are those who have virus-hit families, some now bereaved and unable to grieve with the wider family. My heart and my prayers go out to them.

Community action

It is heartening, however, to see how this time of lockdown has enabled an explosion of creativity and also of community action. Our street enjoyed a ‘social distance afternoon tea’ last Sunday and we had families introducing themselves and sharing in a way they would probably never have done in ‘normal’ times. I have heard of family online quizzes and brunches and also of friends enjoying a virtual night at the theatre. My extended family also managed a zoom gathering at Easter which allowed great-grandparents to interact over three generations. Whilst we long to be ‘unlocked’ soon, I hope that what we are learning under curfew, sometimes in a slower-paced life, will not be lost into the future.

Hope in anxious times

Deadly diseases

In the 1970s, a student who would one day go on to become one of the foremost clinical microbiologists was advised against doing research into infectious diseases. There was no point, his professor told him. Thanks to vaccines and antibiotics, deadly epidemic diseases, such as smallpox, plague, typhus and malaria, were finally in retreat. All too sadly today – as we remember SARS in 2002, Ebola in 2014 and recognise that by 2016 HIV and AIDS (which came to worldwide notice in the 1980s) had been responsible for 35 million deaths – we are now faced with a new pandemic, COVID-19.

God’s to blame?

Epidemics breed fear and suspicion that multiply (along with modern scams, hoaxes and false news) more rapidly than any virus. Often when a mysterious illness erupts the first unhelpful reaction is to panic and the second is to identify a culprit. The White House recently called COVID-19 ‘the Chinese virus’ and in the 1980s, when the cause of AIDS was still unknown, the American Press accused Africans of having sex with chimpanzees, whilst Soviet agents located its origins in US research laboratories. Interestingly, in 1665 at the height of the plaque in London, the prime suspect was God! Lacking any other explanation, crowds flocked to churches, praying for deliverance from what they interpreted as divine retribution for their sins.

There is hope

Whilst God is not being labelled the culprit for coronavirus, in some places it is indeed causing people to return to Him, if not in a church building setting then certainly via online services, discussions, prayer times and seminars. A school chaplain I know reported that in normal times the voluntary Sunday chapel services attracted 50-60 pupils, the online version was now attracting over 200 participants. In society today, as was seen in 1918-20 (during the Great Influenza or Spanish ‘flu outbreak which claimed more lives than those killed in the Great War), this crisis has spawned an outpouring of mass volunteerism and self-sacrifice across the globe. There is hope!

I know Who holds the future

The world is indeed a very anxious place but as we consider the plagues and epidemics of the past, we can also acknowledge that much good has emerged from such times. Whether it’s wonderful literature (some of Shakespeare’s plays were written whilst self-isolating from the plague) or ground breaking science (Isaac Newton ‘discovered’ the laws of gravity when temporarily confined to his Lincolnshire cottage from disease-ridden Cambridge), we can still point to the One who holds our future and brings Hope to the world at all times, and especially in those when tragedy, fear and death are rife. As a well-known Christian chorus puts it, ‘I know who holds the future, and He’ll guide me with His hand. With God things don’t just happen, everything by Him is planned. So as I face tomorrow, with its problems large and small, I’ll trust the God of miracles, give to Him my all.’ (Eugene Clark)

(With thanks to History Today magazine, April 2020, for historical examples.)

School’s out – but let’s still finish well

I visited a school last week with my Governor’s ‘hat’ on and was impressed to see how far the online teaching had progressed. If ever there was an incentive to enable reluctant staff to master computing skills, this crisis has created the prefect storm. As a Head said to me, ‘Every crisis has its uses!’ In fact, despite the unprecedented times, I am pleased to note that humour is continuing to prevail. Another Head mentioned that a parent had just been in to the school and had remarked to the receptionist: ‘The visitors’ car park is rather empty. Is there something I’m missing?’ Missing indeed!

School ‘graduation’ ceremonies

It’s another kind of ‘missing’ that worries me. Many of our pupils who are in the final year of their schooling will now have had their last day in school. Whilst no doubt a cause of rejoicing for the majority, it will before long be a reason for much sadness. I never experienced the modern preference for school ‘graduation’ celebrations when I left school in the mid-1970s, but we did have ways of saying goodbye to our peers. I recall several pranks, one involving removing my Housemaster’s car and replacing it with a ‘dinky toy’ replica. Another involved turning all the chairs around in the speech day marquee. No doubt all very tiresome for the staff who had to rush round putting everything back to where it belonged, but they built shared memories. We enjoyed, too, the official end of year functions, meals, photos and signing of autograph books.

Finishing well

Today the celebrations might be more spectacular – balls, games, dinners and formal speeches together with special T-shirts or sweatshirts – but whatever the goings-on they form part of leaving well and transition. I am, thus, concerned that the present crisis might have already made such leave-taking all but impossible. Is this always going to be known as the ‘crisis generation’ which didn’t do final exams and wasn’t able to leave properly? One Head I spoke to about this remarked wryly, but with real pathos, that he had heard of a fee-paying school which recognised it might struggle to charge school fees for the summer term but was considering charging £4,000 a head to all the leavers wanting to attend the graduation ball! It might appear to be a small matter in view of the unprecedented times in which we find ourselves, but I do hope that schools will give some thought in due course as to how to enable their pupils to leave well.

Closure

I was, therefore, heartened to hear of a rural school in East Anglia which had called the leavers together for a final, open-air, assembly. It was a relatively brief affair but had finished, with all involved the regulation two metres apart, singing Blake’s ‘Jerusalem‘ at such a pitch that it was heard some distance away in the local town centre. Other schools, too, had gathered their final year pupils to listen to speeches from their Head prefects and senior staff and then to close with prayer and an act of collective worship – usually the singing of a well-known hymn. Poignant and emotional, yes, but also occasions which will have enabled ‘closure’ to begin. I trust that all schools, whatever the next few weeks and months contain, will consider how best to enable such endings to be positive beginnings for the next chapter in their leaving pupils’ lives. 

 

 

A cheer for Chaplains!

Just last week I was at Newman University, Birmingham, to take part in some research. The focus is on how better to prepare the school chaplains of the future – their training, support, encouragement and well-being. I was asked to talk about my experience of chaplains over the years and this took me back to my own experience at boarding school in Scotland.

‘Muscular Christianity’

We had two school chaplains, one for the Anglican community and the other for the Church of Scotland, and both were very effective and approachable.  As I remember, they were a full part of boarding school life – including sport, outdoor activities, the classroom and the boarding houses. (‘Muscular Christianity’, I suppose, but in its most positive of forms.) I was just starting out as a Christian and they nurtured my faith and allowed me to ask questions, to challenge and to explore spirituality in a productive way. Through their pastoral care, I got involved with holiday camps run by Scripture Union and helped organise a Christian Union in school. They were innovative in chapel, too: I well remember us singing our way through the just published ‘Jesus Christ Superstar‘ with great gusto and without embarrassment (and this was an all-boys’ school, too).

Asking questions

I further recalled how important school chaplains had been to me as a young, married, teacher. Also in a boys’ boarding school, I was encouraged to help with assemblies and chapels – thus having to order my thoughts and hone my delivery in those precious seven-minute slots. I was also enabled to lead a town-wide schools’ group – embracing the maintained and independent sectors – and there was helped to articulate my own faith and to consider the time-honoured questions about suffering, poverty, war, creation and disease.

And so it has been in recent days as I have ‘listened in’ to school chaplains through the closed WhatsApp group I help to organise: here again are men and women eager to help and share, to be open and honest where they are at present and to rejoice, despite the current crisis, in all their school communities are still able to do. Chapels and assemblies have become voluntary during the present virus-fearful times and yet droves of students have wanted to come to share, to pray and to support each other.

Here is a poem being shared by chaplains just now. Read it and be encouraged!

Lockdown, by Richard Hendrick

Yes there is fear.
Yes there is isolation.
Yes there is panic buying.
Yes there is sickness.
Yes there is even death.
But,
They say that in Wuhan after so many years of noise
You can hear the birds again.
They say that after just a few weeks of quiet
The sky is no longer thick with fumes
But blue and grey and clear.
They say that in the streets of Assisi
People are singing to each other
across the empty squares,
keeping their windows open
so that those who are alone
may hear the sounds of family around them.
They say that a hotel in the West of Ireland
Is offering free meals and delivery to the housebound.
Today a young woman I know
is busy spreading fliers with her number
through the neighbourhood
So that the elders may have someone to call on.
Today Churches, Synagogues, Mosques and Temples
are preparing to welcome
and shelter the homeless, the sick, the weary
All over the world people are slowing down and reflecting
All over the world people are looking at their neighbours in a new way
All over the world people are waking up to a new reality
To how big we really are.
To how little control we really have.
To what really matters.
To Love.
So we pray and we remember that
Yes there is fear.
But there does not have to be hate.
Yes there is isolation.
But there does not have to be loneliness.
Yes there is panic buying.
But there does not have to be meanness.
Yes there is sickness.
But there does not have to be disease of the soul
Yes there is even death.
But there can always be a rebirth of love.
Wake to the choices you make as to how to live now.
Today, breathe.
Listen, behind the factory noises of your panic
The birds are singing again
The sky is clearing,
Spring is coming,
And we are always encompassed by Love.
Open the windows of your soul
And though you may not be able to touch across the empty square,
Sing.