40s and 50s Memories
was not in cash but as a bar allowance to be
spent on looking after 'lonely passengers'. I am
proud to announce that next year one of those
passengers who was on the cruise to look
after her mother will share with me our Golden
Wedding celebrations. There were a number of
school teachers on the cruise as passengers,
including the Head Master of Bryanston. In
September 1966 I joined the Bryanston staff,
appointed once again not to teach History but,
this time, Economics for a year while the Head
of Department took a year out to teach in Africa.
I had to swot up the 'A' Level syllabus while still
keeping all my responsibilities in Penge going,
and was horrified to find on arrival in Dorset that
there were seven boys who had already got A
grades at 'A' Level who were depending on me
to get them into Oxbridge. I confessed to them
my lack of formal Economics qualifications, but
tried to reassure them that I was not wholly
unintelligent. Perhaps they could teach me?
At the end of the term, two of them won Open
Scholarships, and the rest, if I remember
correctly, won their places.
Bryanston was our home, our life, our livelihood
for fourteen years. Our three children were born
there and began their education there, in the
beauty of the Dorset countryside and in the
warmth of a philosophy of education which
considered the individual rather more than I felt
had generally been the case at King's. It was a
thoughtful and confident liberalism: our job was
not to foster 'individualists', who were defined
as people who put themselves before the
community, but 'individuals', people who were
at one with themselves and the community.
There was a tutorial system, unique in those
days but now considered to have been the
progenitor of many systems and the basis
of much good practice in modern schools.
Pastorally, it was without equal, and it had
many creative strengths. To its staff, it offered
many opportunities. It was a life that we lived,
not a job that we did.
I progressed gradually, from Economics back
into History, to Head of Department, then to
Housemaster of a boys' house, then, when
co-education came, to Housemaster of a
girls' house, and then (awful title!) Master i/c
Co-education. But there was a tradition that 'House' appointments were for a maximum of
15 years. I faced the prospect of long years
as an ex-Housemaster 'elder statesman' on a
reduced salary and feeling that there were no
more new challenges. A new Headmaster
arrived who told me that the private dossier on
me, passed on by the former Head, said that I
was going to become a Headmaster. I laughed
at the ridiculous idea - and six weeks later,
started applying. It took a couple of years of
applications, but in 1980 I proudly became Head
Master of Wycliffe College in Gloucestershire,
where I might have stayed happily for as long
as my predecessors. I was only the fourth Head
in 100 years. However, I was urged to apply for
the Headship of the uniquely charitable school
of Christ's Hospital. This ancient institution,
founded in 1552 for the foundlings and orphans
of the City of London, was in turmoil financially
and administratively. Almost in desperation, it
turned towards cost-cutting and co-education,
re-uniting its male and female sections which
had been split apart 'temporarily' by the Great
Fire of London in 1666. Most members of
the Head Masters' Conference regarded the
vacant Headship with extreme suspicion. In
great doubt, I submitted an application and was
invited for interview. I visited the school and
met those who shared the responsibility for it,
and immediately was anxious to be part of that
team. With its mixture of boys and girls from
every background, where 'need' of all sorts was
taken into account as much as ability when it
came to pupils' admission, and where there
was a proud tradition of charitable benefaction
combined with true independence, it seemed to
me the most privileged and exciting Headship
in England. I joined the school in January 1987,
and retired in 1996, feeling that I had been
blessed.
Retirement turned out to be a myth. Before I
left 'CH' I had literally been 'Head-hunted' to
found a mixed boy-and-girl, day-and-boarding,
primary-and-secondary school in Thailand. I
thought it was intended to be a sort of copy of
Christ's Hospital; it was an opportunity too good
to miss. The new school expanded from 0 to
450 pupils in twelve months, despite having to
open in a newly-built hotel because the school
buildings were not ready, contrary to what I
had been told and contrary to what I had told
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