Do not stand at my grave and weep

Don’t panic, precious readers of my occasional blog. The title is not chosen as a personal reflection and is not the reason, either, of my silence for some weeks. I have just returned from a school inspection visit in India and the words above leapt out at me from a tombstone. Let me explain…

A passage to India

My visit to India took in the former colonial sanatorium hill station of Ootacamund (Udhagamandulam today – but everyone still calls it Ooty). ‘Snooty Ooty’ of imperial fame, sits at the top of the Nilgiri Hills at 7,500 feet altitude (twice as high as Ben Nevis https://bennevis.co.uk) in the south Indian state of Tamil Nadu. Here in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, the British would retreat from the heat and disease of the plains, to rule the southern subcontinent from a mini-Surrey complete with bungalows, libraries, clubs, churches, guest houses and European schools. Many of these buildings still survive and so on a break from the rigours of school inspection I ventured up to St Stephen’s, part of the Church of South India (and pictured above).

In memoriam

The memorial plaques and graves of St Stephen’s are testimony to ‘the white man’s graveyard’, albeit on a different continent from whence that epitaph originates. There’s one to the Captain in the Bombay Grenadiers who died aged 36, ‘drowned in the Kromund river while out hunting with the Ootacamund Hounds‘. Another is to the young soldier who ‘died on this very spot – killed by a tiger‘. (I did see a tiger, my first ever in the wild, on this visit: I was ‘on a course’ for the morning – a golf course I have to admit – and there it was, bold as brass, sauntering from one hole to another: not so much playing with Tiger Woods, but playing with a tiger from the woods!) But, I digress.

Mourning great loss

The saddest memorial plaques are to the wives of colonial administrators and soldiers. There’s one to Georgiana Grace, wife of JC Wroughton, Esq., who was the Collector (of taxes) for the province. She passed away in 1847 aged 30 years ‘leaving her husband and seven children to deplore their irreparable loss‘. Alongside this stone is that of Henrietta Cecilia, wife of the founder of Ootacamund, John Sullivan. Henrietta died in 1838 aged 36 and her stone also bears testimony to Harriet, their daughter, who also passed away prematurely, aged 17 years. The plaque goes on to mention the Sullivans’ eight children who, together with their father, ‘mourn the loss of these the objects of their tenderest love’.

Great joy and hope are there, too

On the face of it these, and other tombs, are illustrative of much sadness and anguish. However, it doesn’t take long to note, too, the hope they also had. Henrietta Sullivan’s plaque concludes with this sentiment: ‘Not however as those without hope but believing that as “Jesus died and rose again, even so them also which sleep in Jesus, will God bring with Him”‘. Out in the graveyard, positioned between two ancient tombs, there is a new-looking sign which says: ‘reserved’. Poignantly alongside this, is a large headstone which bears the words at the top of this blog, ‘Do not stand at my grave and weep, I am not there, I do not sleep‘. There then follows a verse of a poem by Steven Cummins which concludes: ‘Do not stand at my grave and cry, I am not there, I did not die‘.

There’s a challenge here to live our lives so filled with faith and love that when we eventually die in an earthly sense, we do so knowing without any doubt that we then enter an eternal life in the presence of Jesus. Weeping at funerals and at a loved one’s death is perfectly natural – but let there be joy, too, when believers are remembered.

Unsung Heroes

SPOTY

I watched SPOTY – the BBC’s annual Sports Personality of the Year – last weekend and, like so many, was amazed by the breadth and range of sporting success (and some failure) enjoyed by British athletes of all disciplines in 2019. I was especially struck afresh by the importance of the ‘quiet word’, encouragement and ‘behind the scenes’ support given by coaches, family, friends and others – the ‘unsung heroes’. Whilst my own sporting journey to date has been modest, to say the least, compared to all that was on display in SPOTY, I can testify to something of what the writer to the Hebrews refers to as ‘the cloud of witnesses‘ (in Hebrews 12 in the New Testament).

Early sporting interest

My parents come to mind initially. We were very fortunate to live Overseas until I was 18 years of age and my Mum and Dad taught me firstly to swim (apparently I could do this before I could walk and would worry bystanders by doing most of it underwater) and, secondly, to play golf. I didn’t enjoy golf initially but their encouragement and example ensured I didn’t easily give up and then in my teens the golfing ‘bug’ stuck and I was on the course daily during the holidays. I wasn’t able to play regularly thereafter but now that I am semi-retired my youthful skills are being resurrected and I can still hear their words of exhortation.

Perseverance is key

Next I recall a schoolmaster, John England, who watched me playing rugby when I was about 12 years old. As a gangly youngster I was placed in the second row of the rugby pack but was able to show a turn of speed if given space. Mr England advised me to stretch out a bit – and not give up – and suggested that with perseverance I’d confirm my first team place and gain ‘colours’ (a badge and special socks, as I recall). The very next match I remember scoring a try and, although we lost, his confident prediction was borne out. Moreover, the following term, commenting again positively on my running, he challenged me to win the school cross-country championship. Actually I came third but his belief in me ensured that at secondary school I continued cross-country running under the guidance of former Scottish Commonwealth Games runner, Fergus Murray. By then I was shortening much of my focus to middle-distance running and the highlight, aged 18 years, was to run a 400 metre race against senior opposition (including two international athletes) at Meadowbank Stadium in Edinburgh. I came last in the race but at least I had been encouraged to aspire!

Admonition can help, too!

It was at secondary school that I received another type of encouragement in my sports’ playing. This time, also aged 18 years, I was admonished by a Scottish rugby international (and later BBC commentator), Ian Robertson. It was during a 7-a-side practice when an opponent swept passed me. Instead of trying to chase him down I pulled up assuming there was no chance of catching him. Mr Robertson, our coach, ‘let me have it’ and I never forgot the importance thereafter of ‘keeping on going’ even if the odds appeared stacked against me. In fact this advice paid off handsomely that summer in the school Sports Day. My Housemaster, David McMurray – another fine sportsman who encouraged me in croquet, golf, hockey and athletics – had a quiet word with me towards the end of the Inter-House championship. Our House was lying second by a couple of points and we still had the final event to run: the 6 x 200 yards relay. I was on the final leg for my House. Mr McMurray pointed out that if I was to come in the top three then we would win overall. Despite the other final leg athletes being better sprinters, I somehow managed second place and the Cup was ours!

Throw off everything that hinders

It’s not for me to trot out more examples from my past of encouraging words and cajolements on the sports-field (and there are others who have made a great impression on me). Suffice it to say, that as the writer to the Hebrew has said, it’s vital than in all that we do – sporting or otherwise – to ‘throw off everything that hinders‘ and to run the race of life with perseverance. A kind word, a smile, an encouraging letter or card – even a carefully judged and appropriate criticism passed on in love – can make all the difference. Why not try it today and be an unsung hero?

Email at your peril!

The email trail

This week I have been emailing several people to chase up responses to messages sent out in August. I was pleased to receive one automatic message: ‘I won’t be responding to emails this week as I am on holiday with my lovely family’. A great reply. (It is half-term for some teachers.) Another automated response reads: ‘I am on the half-term break but will reply as soon as I can’. Oh dear – a shame. And there was, ‘I am on my summer break and won’t manage to reply for some time’. Ho hum!

I gather it is Ray Tomlinson, a New York computer programmer in the 1970s, we have to blame for electronic communication. As Simon Kelner (The i Newspaper 23/10/19), reminds us: ‘The advent of email changed the rules of engagement for everyone and no-where has this been more consequential than in the workplace‘.

Avoid emails after 9.00 pm

When I was a Head, I tried not to email anyone after 9.00 pm – and certainly endeavoured to avoid the ‘ping’ of the email after that evening hour. Early on in my senior managing career I realised that to open a parental ‘wine o’clock’ email after I was home was likely to rob me of sleep: there was nothing I could do about the inevitable ‘complaint’ until the morning. (Besides, my wife quite rightly castigated me for checking my ‘phone after this hour and banned the device from the bedroom: very wise indeed.)

In the latter years of my Headship, I was impressed by hearing of one school which banned work emails after 6.00 pm and had a setting on the school system to ensure this was enforced. Moreover, I gather that in France it is actually illegal for companies with more than 50 employees to send emails after recognised working hours – and companies such as Lidyl and Volkswagen use software to intercept such ‘Exocet missiles’ aimed at workers during their leisure moments.

Recent research

This is all very well, but now I have heard of a body of research (from Sussex University) which suggests that prohibiting employees from checking their emails outside of normal working hours can actually harm their mental health! It seems that some people just must be ‘connected’ and feel in control of their communication channels.

Clearly, like so much in life, a balance needs to be achieved: strict policies in this area can, it appears, cause additional stress to some people. The younger worker today generally feels it’s natural to receive work emails outside of normal employment hours (and for teachers I defy anyone to classify ‘normal’ in term time). Ray Tomlinson has, in Keller’s words, ‘let the genie out of the bottle‘ and we cannot put it back no matter how hard we try. ‘The only guidance I give to work colleagues‘, Keller concludes, ‘is not to send a work email at a time you wouldn’t consider making a ‘phone call to deliver the same message‘. Wisdom indeed.

What makes you smile?

As we move into the Autumn and the nights start to draw in, the leaves turn and fall and the memories of the summer fade, what is it that cheers us up?

Flared trousers

It’s London Fashion Week from this Friday and, following a Onepoll survey of 1,000 Britons, it seems that 40% name the 1970s as their favourite decade to revisit with nearly a third of respondents hoping for the return of flares. This makes me smile! I had a pair of blue flared-trousers which became progressively lighter as they extended down to my feet (and I also had the long hair and flowery shirt to complement them)! I am not sure, however, I really want to revisit the decade of my teenage years.

Putting a smile on our faces

Another poll, this time undertaken by a holiday firm, Marella Cruises, has published a list of the top ten things which help put a smile on our faces. Right at the top is ‘a random act of kindness’. A few years ago, as the Year 11 leavers celebrated their final day in class in my school in Hampshire, they wrote personal, handwritten, notes to everyone in the two years below them – and also to every member of staff. The messages in the notes were wholly encouraging and remarked on the positive traits of their recipients. To round off these RAOKs, they managed to sneak into the staff common room the previous night and fill it with colourful balloons. This all made a lot of us smile!

Further ‘top ten’ smiles include sunshine, a holiday, good food and a funny joke. I’m not sure how well this one works on paper, but here goes: the cast of the ‘Magnificent Seven‘ were asked to do an aftershave advert at Anfield. Only six of them turned up. Yul never wore cologne…I’ll move on rapidly!

Two of my favourite ‘smilers’ in the ‘top ten’ are the unexpected: receiving a ‘thank you’ from a stranger and, receiving a smile from a stranger. These latter two cost nothing at all except, I suppose, overcoming the fear of embarrassment or possible rejection should these gestures be rebuffed. I suspect they very rarely are – so why not try one today? Just last week I received a handwritten letter from a former pupil of mine who was about to enter her final year in school in a position of some responsibility. It was a massive encouragement, and brought much joy, simply to receive such a personal note. I’m still smiling!

Smiling – for eternity

I was struck just this morning by two Bible verses which were put together in a ‘thought for today’. The first comes from that Old testament book of wisdom, Ecclesiastes: God has planted eternity in the hearts of man (Ecc.3:10 TLB). The second verse, from the New Testament and Paul’s first letter to the church in Corinth, is this: No one has ever imagined what God has prepared for those who love Him (1 Cor.2:9). These are smile-inducing, breathtaking, verses! In our most creative moments, in the heights of our happiness on earth, we learn that heaven (eternity) is beyond the imagining of those who love God. How good is that? Surely, worthy of a smile at least…

Retiring without retreating

I was interested to read in yesterday’s i Newspaper that more than a quarter of retired over 65s said they gave up their careers too soon – and a fifth were disappointed by their retirement. Very sadly, 33% of respondents said their ‘grand dreams’ for retirement had not come to fruition. (All part of a survey of 1,000 people conducted by the home care provider, Home Instead Senior Care.)

Social care survey

As someone who has ‘retired’ in my early 60s, there are some survey findings with which I can empathise: 25% said their day no longer had a routine – and I had ‘enjoyed’ (and now appreciate more than ever) a very regular school, term-time and holiday routine for 38 years; 45% of those polled said that what they missed most about their work was the time spent with colleagues – and it’s this I miss the most. I would also add to this the loss of opportunity seeing young people flourish, all part of my vocation as a Schoolmaster.

I am, of course, adjusting and there’s much I don’t miss – especially the stress of exam results at this time in the year and the inevitable pressure from those parents of the few pupils who have fallen short in their aspirations. Further pressure to maintain the pupil roll and to answer the angry (and often unrealistic ‘wine o’ clock) email are also features of school life that I don’t harp back to.

Keeping on working as long as you can

Interestingly, in another feature in yesterday’s Press we read of Nicholas Parsons who, aged 95, has missed only his second recording of BBC4’s ‘Just a minute’ in 50 years of broadcasting. If you ever listen to the programme, you can tell that this is someone who never wants to retire from his ‘day job’ – and good for him, too. (I should add that whilst my parents are in their 80s and 90s they still enjoy some regular paid employment – which they also enjoy!)

Doing nothing?

A further article, by Siobhan Norton in the i Newspaper, extolled the virtues of ‘fjaka’ – the Croatian art of doing nothing. This is the perfection of the art of siesta without sleeping – a sort of meditation, even lethargy, as one stares off into the middle distance; ‘look on and make no sound’. This writer realised that when on holiday it might be a blessing to go off-line, at least for a time, and so escape the tyranny of ‘just checking my device’ – again and again. But then, of course, this is not retirement but, perhaps, preparation for it.

A productive retirement

Whilst I find echoes in my own semi-retired situation of some of the traits mentioned above in the survey, I cannot say that I fully concur. As I have just noted, I am only semi-retired: I retired from schoolmastering (and headmastering) full-time last summer but since this April I have taken up a part-time post, using my school experience, to support Christian Heads, Chaplains and Teachers in the independent sector. I was fortunate to be able to plan to retire rather than have it thrust upon me owing to ill-health, dismissal or redundancy. I do still miss my old routines, the camaraderie of the staff room and the excitement of young people learning and gaining fresh insights. However, I have tried to ‘Retire without retreating’ (and can recommend a book of this title by Johnnie Godwin). Taking a sabbatical off paid work has helped and I am trying to ‘age with grace’ by keeping active through sport and gardening, spending time with family (aged from a few months to the mid-90s) and enjoying getting to know my wife all over again. These adjustments are rarely easy and are never fully mastered but I would urge everyone to plan early for a productive retirement – and that’s not just by paying into a pension scheme!

‘The past is for reference and not for residence’

I have just returned from an exhausting but exhilarating week with nineteen teenagers as part of a Rekonnect Camp run by a Christian organisation called Global Connections. I first started helping three years ago and have found it to be as much a help for myself as it is for youngsters today.

TCKs

Kriss Akabusi, the Olympic athlete, made the statement above and this resonates with me. I was born in Nigeria, brought up in Ghana and educated in Scotland at boarding school. In recent years I have come to call myself a TCK – a Third Culture Kid – and this has helped to add further meaning to my early years. As an historian I can also relate to Akabusi’s statement: we need to understand the past, even enjoy its study, and to learn from it where applicable – but we mustn’t live in the past.

Hidden immigrants

At my first official ‘date’ in 1976 with the lovely lady who became my wife, I wore a long, flowing, Nigerian robe. It says a great deal for my wife that she wasn’t immediately put off. It could so easily have been our first and last ‘date’! Without being able to express or articulate it then, here I was aged 19 years trying to ‘say’ that I have a past that was significant and worthy which helped to define who I was. To be more technical, I was (in the words of the Pol Van identity model) a ‘hidden immigrant’: I looked like I was white Caucasian British (apart from when I was wearing my Nigerian robes!) but inside I thought differently.

Many of the teenagers with whom I have lived alongside this past week are also ‘hidden immigrants’. To look at they seem wholly British: they have a British passport and speak perfect English. However, look more closely and you see the African and Asian bangles; listen more acutely and you can identify traces of the Hindi / Swahili / Mandarin / Thai / Japanese which they grew up speaking; ponder on their stories and you start to realise that they are actually global citizens – complex but genuine, needy and yet so able to give and to serve wholeheartedly.

Listening

Let’s not be so quick to judge from the outside – to see someone’s skin tone, hear their intonation and observe their ‘strange’ habits. Take time to listen and to learn, to understand and so to appreciate. Our society too readily rushes to separate and divide. The life experience of the TCK should help us to embrace and celebrate differences, not to dwell in the past but to acknowledge its impact and so to draw the best from it for the future.

Passing by ‘on the other side’?

I have just attended a richly international and multi-faceted wedding of a young man I used to teach in India. At my wedding breakfast table, of the eight people sat there, I discovered that three of us (all of whom looked on the ‘outside’ to be white British people) had been born in Nigeria.

Racism today

Apparently, when my maternal grandmother heard that my mother was to give birth in northern Nigeria, she was shocked: she told my mother that she would be doing the unborn baby (me) a disservice because being born in Africa meant the baby would be black! We might smile at this some 60 years later: surely we are much more enlightened, educated, tolerant and accepting today? Very sadly, reports of alleged racism in the White House, the apparent ineffectual ‘kick it out’ anti-racism campaign in football and the rise of the Far Right in Europe (including the UK), leads us to suppose that there has been little progress in this area.

When I hear taunts of ‘send him/her back to where he/she belongs’, I wonder where I belong? Born in Nigeria to Scottish/English parents (with some French, even Jewish bloodlines), schooled in Scotland but brought up in Ghana, where would I be ‘sent back to’ if someone in authority took exception to me? What about the English World Cup cricket team where players originating in Barbados, Dublin, Pakistan and New Zealand played under the Three Lions’ badge and Cross of St George (he of likely Turkish origin)?

Third Culture Kids (TCKs)

Later this summer I shall be helping out at a ‘camp’for ‘third culture kids’ (TCKs). These are young people whose passport may say they are British (like mine), but who perhaps have ‘mixed race’ parents, were born somewhere in Asia or Africa, have always lived outside of the UK apart from the odd trip to visit family and friends, and are now coming ‘home’. Much time on this ‘camp’ will be spent helping the TCKs understand aspects of modern Britain with which they might be unfamiliar – such as travelling on public transport, eating ‘British’ food, going to a school or college in the UK and experiencing peer pressure in which alcohol, sex or drugs might play a significant part. Sadly, too, we shall need to spend time considering racism and discrimination – even hostility – from some in society who are also entitled to British passports (but may never have traveled beyond English shores – or only as far as a ‘little England’ enclave in Spain or the Mediterranean).

Welcoming, understanding and accepting

We look to our politicians and to other figures in public life to set an example of acceptance and welcoming of those who are seemingly different but, at root, this understanding must begin and develop closer to home within our families, amongst our friends, in our schools and workplaces. We need to be prepared to ‘stand up and be counted’ when we come across racism or else we risk ‘passing by on the other side’ and leaving the ‘stranger’ in the ditch to be ignored (at best), jeered at, spat upon, mocked – even attacked. I was born and lived in Africa and I’ve worked in India: I feel immensely privileged to have this heritage and opportunity to look ‘beyond myself’. Whatever our background and circumstances, I hope we all might re-programme ourselves to be more accepting – even welcoming – to the ‘stranger’ and be prepared to help others to do the same.

Dreams are made of this

A small black and white TV

This is a week of dreams – dreams that came to pass in my lifetime. I was 12 years of age and just home from boarding school. It was one of those rare school holidays when my parents were home from Africa and we were staying in our small tenement flat in Paisley. We were not wealthy – don’t believe all you might read in the Press about those who go to independent schools, even today. Our tenement home had two small bedrooms, a kitchen / lounge area and a small wash area – no toilet (we shared the one on the stairs with other families) and no bath (these were available in the town centre at the public baths – not to be confused with a leisure pool today). But we did have a small black and white TV, courtesy of Radio Rentals, and here my dreams unfolded.

As a young boy, I had flown to and from Ghana twice a year between home and school in Scotland. These were the days of the BOAC ‘young fliers’ – later Ghana Airways and a VC10 – where ‘unaccompanied minors’ were treated to visits to the cockpit where they were allowed to sit in the pilot’s seat and watch the dials and see the clouds rushing by. I wanted to be a pilot! Aged 12, however, I was about to be enthralled by something even more exciting than being an airline pilot: an astronaut!

Air travel – and space

At my small boys’ boarding school near Ayr, we didn’t see much TV although ‘Dr Who’ was a regular Saturday feature. Space travel featured in my favourite comic, ‘The Eagle’, and in our ‘free time’ on Wednesdays and Saturdays we regularly made model ‘Airfix’ models of aircraft. Space travel and a moon landing was something else and even at school we were aware of what was about to happen – and my excitement was increased by knowing my parents were back from tropical Africa (where we had no TV and only intermittent wireless connection) and that we would be renting a TV for the holidays.

Diary extracts from July 1969

My 1969 diary picks up the narrative:

Monday, 14th July: End of term. Most people went home at 6.30 pm. End of term service was at 5.00 am (sic). I stayed the night. 19 boys stayed – had a feed (aka ‘midnight feast’)

Tuesday, 15th July: Got the train to Paisley at 8.10 pm (sic). Played golf. 18 holes. Mum – 105. Dad – 86. I got 124. Watched TV. (Golf was our main pastime on our small mining ‘camp’ in Ghana. In Paisley we played on the Municipal Course next to Barshaw Park where the notices said, in typical Scottish fashion, ‘no golf in the park’).

Wednesday, 16th July: Played golf. Mum – 109. Dad – 79. I got 60 and 62. Watched TV. APOLLO 11 BLAST OFF. I saw it on TV.

Thursday, 17th July: Went up Town. Played football and cricket with Cameron. Apollo 11 all right.

Friday, 18th July: Went to see the dentists. Went to Glasgow – Rowans – new suit. Saw a film at the ABC 1 called ‘The Italian Job’. Watch TV Apollo 11 all right.

Saturday, 19th July: Played football with Cameron. Watched TV. The Apollo 11 still all right. Got my comic and pocket money. (The ‘still all right’ catches the mood of the time – we were on tenterhooks that this amazing mission might fail.)

Sunday, 20th July: Apollo 11 landed on the Moon! It landed at approx 9.13 pm. Played golf…

Monday, 21st July: Went to the doctors. Went to see ‘Ring of bright water’ at La Scala. Watched TV. Apollo 11 – 1st Men on the Moon!

Tuesday, 22nd July: Played with Cameron. Watched TV. Cleared up the settee. Apollo 11 – Luna Bug linked up with the Service Module. Went up Town with Dad.

(No reference to Apollo on the 23rd July but I did see another film, ‘Where Eagles Dare’ – aware that another ‘Eagle’ had dared – and succeeded.)

Thursday, 24th July: Stayed in most of the time – did my model glider. Apollo 11 splashed down safely in the Pacific. Dad’s last day. (He returned to Ghana the next day.)

Survey – faith or fiction?

This week the Daily Express carried out a survey of its readers – ‘Was the 1969 moon landing real or a hoax?’ Over 32% of respondents (2,713) said it was a hoax with some 6.5% undecided. Amazing! That means the other four landings were also fake and that’s an enormous secret for hundreds, if not thousands, involved in the space programme to keep. I don’t need such bizarre surveys: I witnessed the first Moon landing as a youngster and I know it was real, nerve-tingling and inspiring: ‘Apollo 11 was still all right‘.

Collective worship

RE and RSE

I have just attended the All Party Parliamentary Group (APPG) meeting in the House of Commons on ‘Promoting positive outcomes in Religious Education (RE) and Relationships and Sex Education (RSE)’. I was especially struck by the contribution of Ron Skelton, Head at Broadway Academy in Birmingham. Whilst accepting the legal imperative to teach both RE and RSE, Ron emphasised the importance of a third component (also enshrined in law – viz the 1944 and 1988 Education Acts) – daily collective worship. Ron is a Christian, whilst his school roll is predominantly of Asian and Muslim background, and he posed the question: why is it that our young people are amongst the unhappiest in the developed world with a frighteningly high incidence of self-harming and teenage suicide? Could this possibly have some link (albeit in part) to the abject failure of most schools to obey the law and hold a daily (let alone weekly) act of collective worship? Added to this is the failure of 24% of secondary schools in England and Wales (and 44% of academies) to offer RE in the 14-16-year age range – also in contravention of the law.

Daily / Weekly whole-school assemblies

I’m not going to fall into the ‘trap’ of suggesting that the high incidence of troubled youth, with a high proportion suffering from mental health issues, is simply down to the lack of curriculum RE and the paucity of assemblies and chapels – and neither, I suspect, is Ron Skelton. I would agree (with Ron), however, that the lack of the latter is a significant contributory factor. So much that is positive can be achieved in a daily (or at the very least, weekly) gathering of the whole-school community even if much of the time the ‘visible’ content is ‘only’ notices, exhortations and information. There is an incredible strength to be had in gathering regularly to share together as a community. Clearly there are practical issues for some schools (such as the size of the roll and the available space) but even here there remains the possibility of several daily, smaller, gatherings where the same ethos and message are shared. Ron talked about character development in these times with shared values promoted and encouraged, commendations shared, joys celebrated and community sorrows recognised. All too often we bemoan the rise of the smart ‘phone, the loneliness of the long-distance online surfer and the time spent in front of individual screens and we fail to utilise the opportunities we have – even those which are actually required of us – to share together corporately in our schools.

Shared experiences

As a Head I certainly valued meeting with the whole school at least weekly (on other days we had smaller group assemblies and form assemblies) for a gathering in which I was able to share centrally (often around a termly theme), where we sang together, had a Scripture reading and a prayer. (One of the schools of which I was Head had a significant non-Christian population but these pupils and their parents valued having a clear structure, backbone and ethos to the assembly even if it didn’t reflect their faith-position.) These assemblies also afforded me the opportunity to stand at the door at the end of the gathering and look each pupil (and staff member) in the eye and exchange a greeting. Yes, it’s an effort to find space in the daily routine for this and also to come up with something interesting (even instructive) to say – but let’s not shrink from the brave and, may I say, the right thing! In my last school the age-range involved was from Reception Class to Year 11: a challenge regarding the overt message to be shared but well worth the effort in the ‘subliminal’ message of a shared time together.

So, yes to RE and RSE but also a ‘yes’ to daily, or at least weekly, corporate worship together as a whole school.

Rubbishing resilience!

Key expressions in school

When I first started out in teaching in 1980, there were several key expressions doing the rounds. ‘The photocopier’s on the blink again’, is a polite form of what I regularly heard on teaching practice. ‘Where’s the banda paper?’ was another refrain as was a line from a Riding Lights Christian sketch about the Prodigal Son – a Social Worker from Camden Town saying (as she dragged on her cigarette), ‘I really care about the kids’!

I certainly did (and do) ‘care about the kids’ and for me a buzz-word in education was ‘holistic’. I wanted to involve pupils outside of the classroom with activities and sport as much as I wanted to inspire them academically inside. (I still do.) As the 1980s moved on into the next decade, a key educational term was ‘cross-curricular studies’. I remember teaching History and English at a rural boarding school in Scotland (Glenalmond): we re-enacted Shakespeare’s Macbeth among the trees and paths of the school drive before returning indoors to research Medieval Scottish monarchs and their wars whilst plotting their campaigns on large-scale maps before going into the wonderful Episcopal Chapel and trying to imagine how they worshiped. It was an incredibly creative time and, I think, great fun for all concerned – but this phase didn’t last the early 1990s.

Differentiation – for all

Next we were on to ‘differentiation’ and this seemed much more challenging. The core subjects of Maths, English and Science – as well as Modern Foreign Languages and the Classics – were safe from interference as they stuck rigidly to their setting. Humanities’ teachers, however, had a challenging time devising ‘hands on’ lessons which allowed pupils of all abilities to access the curriculum and be stretched accordingly. This emphasis definitely had the advantage of ensuring teaching material and approaches were always being re-examined. I remember one priceless lesson with a mixed-ability Year 9 Religious Studies class. We were considering the run-up to Easter and I happened to point to a picture on the wall which was a reproduction of Leonardo’s ‘The Last Supper’. Quick as a flash, one boy blurted out: ‘Ah, sir, that’s the one with Jesus’ wife in it’. The Da Vinci Code has a lot to answer for!

Resilience and relationships

In more recent years much has been said about ‘resilience’ as part of the character-building we pride ourselves with in schools (and that’s not just for the pupils). Many school ‘Mission Statements’ now contain this word and in my last school (Ballard in New Milton, Hampshire) we put it into our list of pupil expectations. I happen to like the word and the grit and determination it tends to inspire. Recently, however, I read an article by Andy Wolfe (Deputy Chief Education Officer for the C of E @mrawolfe) in the TES, in which he calls on us to re-think the concept of resilience – and I warm to his reasoning.

Resilience as a word has Latin roots and from there to an old English word, ‘to resile’, which means variously ‘to return to the same place’, ‘to spring back’ and ‘to return to normal’. Considering these definitions, the word is much less inspiring than we would wish. Andy Wolfe quotes from a recent conversation with a Headteacher which rather sadly sums this up: ‘Resilience for me means coping until I retire’.

In the New Testament (and the book of Romans), St Paul (who knew a thing or two about opposition, heartache and struggle) wrote this: ‘We know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; character, hope’. Andy Wolfe argues: ‘Re-thinking resilience offers a different lens to re-imagine our present situation. It can help us move beyond the idea of just getting through or coping. In the most difficult situations we face at school, it is primarily the formation of character (as opposed to technical competencies) that defines our response and shapes our relationships’. Andy quotes another Headteacher who uses a telling phrase which I like a lot: ‘I need the courage to tell a more realistic story’.

The courage to tell a more realistic story

Staff, pupils and parents need to see that we, too, have struggles and don’t have all the answers. If we endeavour to let times of difficulty shape and mould us positively so we emerge all the stronger; then our pupils (and others) will see that the teacher is also learning and not simply doing and repeating. Learning and Teaching rather than Teaching and Learning – I feel a new expression emerging!