Tag: Oswestry School

The Personal Touch

May 5, 2025

On a daily (and, increasingly, hourly) basis I am bombarded with emails and LinkedIn messages from people contacting me about all manner of different products and educational services with lofty claims of transformational impact, which tend to be followed up persistently and regularly (either by themselves or an automated scheduler) with a ‘just checking you’ve received my last email’ or ‘if you’re not the right person in your organisation please let me know who I should speak to’, or indeed any number of other such follow up strategies, some of which border on the aggressively forceful. In the age of enhanced contactability and multiple communication channels, I suspect most of us suffer from a similar scale of ‘cold calling’ clogging up our inboxes.

Set against such a high volume of sales pitches, the only response as recipient is to simply ignore and delete. Rude though it may be to not reply, if I don’t know you and I’ve not actively sought you out, I’m afraid I simply don’t have time to send a polite ‘thanks but no thanks’ response to everyone who contacts me.

One individual did, however, break through the impenetrable barrier earlier this year. It was in such stark contrast to all other contact I had received that I felt compelled to respond, and indeed write a blog post about it!

For a start, this wasn’t an email nor a LinkedIn message; it was a handwritten letter. Now for those of you who’ve read some of my previous blog posts (thank you to all three of you…) you’ll know that I am a big believer in the value of a handwritten note, and in spite of my handwriting being barely legible (“I think it’s actually got worse,” my Deputy Head Academic informed me last week with palpable concern on his face), I make time each week to write handwritten Forte Award notelets, cards of thanks to colleagues, or birthday cards to pupils and staff.

The letter writer – Philip Morrow from Morrows Outfitters – was blessed with far more grown up handwriting than I, and had spent time writing a full two pages having been recommended to contact me by a mutual acquaintance. Unlike most of the uninitiated contact I receive, there was no ‘hard sell’ within the letter, but there was a clear sense of the passion that Philip had for a family business that began in 1873 in Liverpool and, as the fifth generation of the family to act as custodian of the business, there was a compelling sense of his ‘why’.

The letter was accompanied by two pairs of rather splendid striped socks as an example of their produce and, what’s more, my initials had been embroidered into them as well.

As it happens, whilst I’ve not met Philip before, I have previously purchased a pair of similarly-styled socks from Morrows (in the Chocolate & Gold colours of the boarding house in my previous school where I was a Housemaster) so it wasn’t a complete out of the blue contact (and I should add, said socks are still going strong 10+ years later, so I can certainly testify to the quality and durability of the product!). But I’m not sure that a simple email or LinkedIn message would have had the same impact, and would likely have suffered the same terminal fate of the vast majority of the rest of the contact I receive.

The socks were a nice touch, (and have drawn approving looks around campus from pupils and staff alike, yes, even, my Deputy Head Academic…) but what struck me most was the personal touch that was so evident in the effort, time and consideration that went in to the communication; for me, that made all the difference. As the writer EM Forster implored: ‘Only Connect’.

It’s the Thought that Counts

My birthday last year was another such occasion when I was reminded of the personal touch, and the truth of the old adage that ‘it’s the thought that counts’.

Coming into school in the morning, I was greeted by my colleagues at reception with a number of gifts (entirely unnecessarily but nevertheless appreciated!), one of which was a large, square box wrapped in sparkling red wrapping paper.

Intrigued, as I opened the box and unwrapped the tissue paper lining, there inside was an item of clothing .  It was a waistcoat, but not just any waistcoat; this waistcoat was made up in the Oswestry School tartan with the same school-crested silk material that lines our green school tweed blazers. 

A lot of effort will have gone in to contacting our school uniform supplier, getting the material ordered, and making it up into a waistcoat that perfectly fits (with a little sneaky assistance from my wife who poached a waistcoat from my wardrobe for them to use for measurements). That’s a lot of thought, a lot of forward planning, and a lot of effort. And regardless of where you stand on tartan waistcoats (as a Scot, for me it is surely the ultimate in sartorial style!) it was- and is – a really, really special gift that I’ll treasure, and it is literally (at least at the moment) completely unique and a one of a kind.  It’s the thought that really does count.

A Culture of Gratitude

This term, we began our staff INSET with an invitation to pause for a moment or two to express gratitude to a colleague who had gone above and beyond, or helped in some way, or – in simply being them – had made the difference. Blank Postcards of Gratitude were placed on the chairs of the seats in the hall, which were soon filled in (enthusiastically I should add) and posted into a specially-designed postbox following which they were delivered to their intended recipients.

Whilst it had the potential to be perceived as a bit of a gimmick or a token gesture, I’m a firm believer in the confidence that comes from collegial gratitude. Don’t just take my word from it – the great Roman statesman Cicero once declared that “Gratitude is not only the greatest of virtues, but the parent of all others”- and in our case, it was a really positive way to begin with words of encouragement that provided a spring in our step as we embarked upon the new term.

Positivity and gratitude resonates and reverberates. Within a relatively small school community such as ours where individuals – and individuality – are valued and encouraged, I see it (and hear it) each and every day, where kindness and compassion are part of the very fabric of the place, and where pupils and staff alike take the time, effort, and care to look out for one another, support one another, and celebrate one another.

That, perhaps, is the ultimate personal touch. Long may it continue, here and everywhere!

Just to prove that the personal touch really does work, I share with you the website of Morrows Outfitters with their range of fine UK-produced apparel. And, no, I’m not receiving commission! https://www.morrowsoutfitters.com/.

One More Step

March 27, 2025

A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.

I was reminded of this ancient proverb during our recent 24 hour fundraiser in aid of the new Performing Arts Centre at Oswestry School, an incredible weekend of collective effort and community endeavour, and one of the highlights not just of the term but of the school year as a whole.

At 2pm on Friday 7 March, the entire school joined together for the countdown to a non-stop challenge that would see hundreds of pupils, parents, staff and alumni throw themselves into a vast array of individual and group endurance challenges and creative efforts that would take us all the way through the night and on into the following afternoon.

A particularly special moment came right at the end of the event as Head of Lower School Mr Will Taylor concluded his epic 55 mile ‘Sea to School’ trek along Offa’s Dyke from Prestatyn to Oswestry, a feat of endurance that his feet won’t have thanked him for! Having walked through the night, over valley and stile, up hill and through brook, those final miles from the Old Racecourse down to the school were painful and slow ones, but as he neared the school, a group of pupils and staff went up to join him for the final mile, gathering around him to help him through those tough final moments. And, as he rounded the corner and walked towards the awaiting tunnel of cheering onlookers, he dropped his walking sticks and broke into a run, positively charging towards the finishing line where in front of him was a basin of deliciously cold iced water for his feet, and an equally enticing ice cold beer! It was a wonderful moment of collective celebration and admiration, and just one example of the quite brilliant – and quite inspiring – ways so many within our community threw themselves so fully into the fundraising effort.

Head of Lower School Mr Taylor cools off his feet after his feat of endurance!

Stepping Out of Your Comfort Zone

For my own part, I’d agreed (somewhat foolishly, in retrospect!) to attempt to run 50km on a treadmill, a distance I had never come close to running on a treadmill, and a distance I’d not run for very many years; in fact, the last time I’d raced over that distance was over 21 years ago when I was much younger. And much fitter!

But I was determined to play my part, because this is a project that’s personally hugely important to me; having been persuaded as an 11 year old to audition for the school play (and unexpectedly landing the eponymous main part in Peter Pan), a desperately shy introverted young boy was given the confidence to believe in himself, and it changed everything for me. Above all, it taught me about the importance of stepping out of your comfort zone and, for me, it was a first step on the journey towards where I am today. That desperately shy 11 young boy who wouldn’t even dream of putting his hand up in class would not have believed that in his later life he’d not only become a teacher and be the one at the front of the class, but would end up as a headteacher standing at the front of an assembly hall full of hundreds of students. The very thought of it would have struck terror in that young lad, but those first steps on that school stage (yes, green tights and all!) were some of the most important ones in my journey towards believing in myself and having the confidence to do things outside of my comfort zone.

Whilst the 50km Challenge was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever done (and I don’t want to even look at a treadmill for a long while!) each and every one of those steps was worth it as a means of playing my part in the collective endeavour, and whilst those final miles were tough – really, tough – I kept in the back of my mind the reason why we were doing it, and the potential transformational impact it would have on future generations to come, youngsters who might in turn find their forte – and find their confidence – on stage and in the performing arts.

Barely standing at the end of the 50km Challenge!

Building a Legacy

As we gathered on the quad on that Friday afternoon in front of the Memorial Hall, we were joined by Chris Wylie (OO) and his wife Judith. Chris had been a pupil at the school when the Memorial Hall was opened on 11th December 1954 just over 70 years before. He remembered the occasion well, and reflected on just how fortunate he and his peers felt to have this brand new facility, one that – very poignantly – was built to commemorate those from the school who had given their lives in the two world wars. The building was funded almost entirely by donations from alumni and friends of the school, and was a campaign spearheaded – and delivered – through the determination and passion of a group of individuals who fervently believed in a vision for a legacy facility to benefit generations of youngsters in the years to come; that the sacrifices of those who had fallen would not be in vain.

As a school whose motto is We Learn Not For School But For Life, the Performing Arts plays a central role in the development of the skillsets and mindsets that will enable our youngsters to thrive – and flourish- in their adult lives.  After all, there is no better stage than the theatre for developing confidence and communication skills.  No better stage for experiencing collaboration and teamwork.  No better stage for developing resilience, agility, motivation and self-awareness.  Leadership; empathy; attention to detail; creative thinking (all of which, as it happens, are on the World Economic Forum’s list of Top 10 Skills of the Future).

Members of the Oswestry School Dance Academy which this year celebrated its 10th anniversary and has grown to a company of 115 members from 21 local schools

The vision for the new Performing Arts facility is all about making a life-changing impact to generations of youngsters in the years to come, and to make a difference to the local community in which we live.  A theatre and performance venue within walking distance of the town would be an exciting and significant community development for the town of Oswestry and is one of the main reasons why the Town Council were unanimous in their support for the project.   With residential housing for the elderly directly opposite the Memorial Hall, it is exciting to think of the difference we could make to our closest neighbours with regular weekly informal concerts within the new foyer space, or exhibitions of artwork, or talks from visiting authors and speakers.  For young and old, this new facility can – and will – really make a difference.  

Striding Forward

The 24 hr Non-Stop Challenge has raised just over £30,000 at time of writing – a phenomenal total and a demonstration, too, of what can be achieved through shared vision and collective endeavour. It brings our total fundraising to just shy of the million pound mark which will be a significant milestone in the campaign when we get there.

When we set out on this journey, the £1.5million fundraising target seemed like an almost impossible dream, but having taken that all-important first step, with each step, we get closer to the destination, and closer to the dream.

The journey – no matter how long, and no matter how hard – will be well worth it in the end!

https://www.justgiving.com/campaign/pacappeal

Follow, my leader

March 15, 2024

In an early work from his debut collection Death of a Naturalist, the late great Irish poet Seamus Heaney eulogises his farmer father as he “worked with a horse-plough,/His shoulders globed like a full sail strung/Between the shafts and the furrow.” The poem – ‘Follower’ – is a vivid evocation of youthful wonder, admiration and awe, and is a poignant love letter to his ‘expert’ father whose furrows Heaney followed, not as a farmer but, as he suggests in the companion poem ‘Digging’, as a writer who would go on to excavate the Irish landscape and dig into its troubled history.

The collection Death of a Naturalist was to have a profound impact upon me as a schoolboy, introduced to Heaney’s work by a new – and wonderfully passionate- teacher who joined our school as I entered my final year. Until that point, I had always enjoyed studying English, but it was the arrival of the inspirational figure of Mr McLaughlin that truly fired my imagination and revealed to me the power – and impact – of the written word.

‘Seamus Heaney’ by Old Oswestrian artist Peter Edwards (copyright National Portrait Gallery)

Amongst others – including my grandfather, a Classics teacher – Mick McLaughlin played an influential role in my own pathway into teaching and, having continued to take a keen interest in Irish literature whilst studying English at university, it was to Heaney that I first turned – and returned – when I commenced my own teaching career. I found it a particularly moving – and symbolic – moment as, in turn, I taught Heaney’s poem ‘Follower’ to my own A Level students, conscious as I was of following in the Tweed-suited, brogues-wearing footsteps of Mr McLaughlin. As Heaney did when he followed in the literal furrows of his father, I, too, “stumbled in his hobnailed wake,/Fell sometimes on the polished sod,” though, thankfully for Mr McLaughlin, I at least didn’t ask him to give me a piggy back as Heaney’s father did with the young Heaney “dipping and rising to his plod”!

Leader as Follower

There’s a lovely moment each year at our school’s summer term Speech Day when the Head Boy and Head Girl announce to the school and our guests the names of those who will follow them as the next year’s Heads of School. Having led the school for the past academic year and delivered their valedictory speeches, their final act is to welcome on to stage their successors, handing over their Heads of School gowns as they do so, a symbolic gesture of the passing of leadership from one cohort to another. With a history spanning over 615 years, I find it a powerful reminder of the golden thread that connects one year group to the next, the metaphoric baton of leadership being passed across not only the years but across the centuries, too. In this sense, our Heads of School become both leaders and followers, walking in the footsteps of their forebearers, learning from them, emulating their example, but ploughing their own furrow, and doing it their own way.

This term we have spent the past few weeks interviewing the next cohort of Prefects to lead the school in the forthcoming academic year. One of the questions we ask requires applicants to reflect on what makes a great leader, and to provide examples of leaders they’d wish to emulate. Many of them pointed to the example of our current Heads of School Myles and Marta, and their Deputies Jessie and Harris as leaders they admire and whose example they hope to follow. They point to Myles’s approachability and his empathy, his calm manner and his willingness to drop everything to listen to a fellow pupil in their time of need. They point to Marta’s example on and off the sports field, her energy, her organisation, her ability to get things done. They point to Harris’s kind nature and his imaginative approach (and his Instagram status as the star of our pupil-led Football team account that has a fast-growing following!). They point to Jessie and the way the youngsters in our Prep School look up to her and admire her, and the ‘glue’ she provides in her own yeargroup.

These four – and their Prefect team – were appointed for the skillsets and character attributes they possessed. They had seen examples of strong leadership from their predecessors, who in turn had role models to follow from their own predecessors. And when we appoint the Prefect Elect and begin the process of handover again, next year’s cohort will spend the coming term following in the furrows of the current Upper Sixth before they take the baton on and lead themselves.

The golden thread continues; unbroken. Follower. Leader. Leader-Follower.

Oswestry Heads of School (clockwise from top left): Myles; Marta; Harris; Jessie

Curator Leadership

One of the tremendous privileges over the past few years in which I have been Headmaster of Oswestry School has been the opportunity to meet a number of my predecessors. Some I knew already from ‘the circuit’ including my immediate predecessors Julian Noad (now Head at Queen’s School, Taunton) and Douglas Robb (now Head at Gresham’s), but others I have met when they have taken the time to visit us whether on Founder’s Day or just in passing through, including Paul Smith (Headmaster 1995-2000) and the legendary figure of Frank Gerstenburg (Headmaster 1974-1985). All were great Heads and steered the good ship skilfully, carefully, and at times courageously through waters calm, choppy and sometimes stormy.

When you are the Head of a school founded in 1407, you quickly gain a sense of the privilege and responsibility of the role, first and foremost of course to the community of pupils and staff one leads, but likewise the privilege and responsibility of stewardship, taking on the metaphorical baton from those who have led the schools across the centuries, and ensuring the golden thread of the school continues uninterrupted.

“Your leadership is temporary,” writes educationalist and former Head Richard Gerver, “and you are just the author of one chapter in a school’s history, a custodian: your aim must be to ensure that it is a great chapter and actually so good that it sets up the next one to be even greater.”

Former Oswestry School Heads Paul Smith (top left) and Frank Gerstenberg (bottom left)

Whether a Headmaster, a Head of School, a Prefect- or any of the other many leadership roles within a school community- one’s leadership is temporary. We are custodians of the school, curators even: our role is to look after. Looking after those within our care, looking after the school. As we have followed in the footsteps of those who have gone before us, in turn we lay a trail for those who come after to follow behind.

Perhaps it’s not a golden thread after all, but a golden tread. In time, our footsteps will disappear, but for those that follow immediately after, they are firmly imprinted, a golden tread to follow, a golden tread to lead forward from.

Image: copyright Anup Shah | Getty

The Be of the Bang

January 30, 2024

As a lifelong athletics fun – and keen runner – I was fortunate to grow up in a golden era for Great Britain on the track. I was a little too young to appreciate the enthralling middle distance rivalry of Seb Coe and Steve Ovett and the trail they blazed for the young Steve Cram to follow, but my imagination was nonetheless captured by the athletic brilliance- and entertaining personalities – of the likes of Kriss Akabusi, Sally Gunnell, Roger Black, and triple jump world record holder Jonathan Edwards, amongst many others.

For the casual athletics fan – and even those who perhaps only dipped in to track and field once every four years in the Olympics cycle- the likes of Akabusi et al were very much household names. However, it was a less well known – and less decorated – athlete that truly inspired me as a youngster, and whose example left a more lasting impression: Derek Redmond.

Redmond was one of the world’s top 400m runners going into the 1992 Olympic Games. He should have run at the ‘88 games in Seoul, but cruelly, just 10 minutes before competing in the first heats, his Achilles tendon snapped, resulting in two years of painful surgery. Yet it was his dream to win an Olympic medal, and he had the performance to do it, going into the Barcelona games in the form of his life.

Progressing easily through the heats, everything was going to plan, and as he settled into his blocks for his semi-final, he focused on the goal of reaching that final – and the prospect of an Olympic medal- ensuring he kept focused and trusted in the training of the previous months and years. 

With the crack of the starter’s pistol, Redmond was off like a shot and, settling in comfortably to his stride, made easy work of the first 200m. He was coasting, and looked set for an easy victory.

Then, with just 200m to go…BANG!

Redmond crashed to the track, grasping his leg. He thought he’d been shot.

He hadn’t; his hamstrung had snapped.

His dreams were over. Shattered.

Yet, with the other runners already having crossed the line, he picked himself up, and limped forward in his lane in quite evident agony. As he slowly dragged himself around the final bend, his father Jim- who had travelled especially to see his son compete- jumped over the barriers and onto the track, pushing the security away, and rushed to be with his son. The two men embraced, and the younger of the two Redmonds wept in his father’s arms, his dreams evaporated.

But together they walked all the way down that home straight. Why? Because Redmond was determined to get to that finish line.

And finish that race he did. To this day, it is the slowest ever recorded time of an Olympic 400m, but for me it remains an astonishing demonstration of the indomitable human spirit. It was Redmond, not the other runners, who received a standing ovation from the whole crowd. 70,000 athletics fans, on their feet, applauding a man who more than any other in that Games, seemed to embody the Olympic ideal.

Carry on going, he seemed to be saying to himself. Don’t give up. Persevere.

(Image: AP 1992)

Just Be It

The image of Derek Redmond and his father Jim walking those slow, limping steps towards the finish line is perhaps one of the most iconic sporting moments of all time, made all the more memorable given the cap Jim was wearing with Nike’s famous slogan. The Nike executives must have been rubbing their hands in glee at this free advertising and the poignant, powerful embodiment of determination, resilience and perseverance encapsulated in the Just Do It imperative lived out by Redmond in that race. 

Athletics – as with most sports – is very much about the ‘doing’. Getting the job done in training; putting in the hard yards; getting out there when it’s cold and dark; doing what needs to be done. It’s goal-orientated, and all about competitive results. In this sense, Nike’s slogan is a good one. It’s very much about Just Doing It.

But Barcelona ’92 demonstrated powerfully that sport – as with life – is less about the ‘doing’ and more about the ‘being’. Redmond could quite easily – and understandably – have waited for the medics to scoop him off the track, and ended it there and then. He’d have avoided the agony of that final limp down towards the finish line, and the glare of the television cameras as his shattered dreams were played out live to the watching world. But this wasn’t about sport- or winning- anymore. It was about his very being- who he was, not as an athlete, but who he was as a person.

For Redmond, the finishing was important. His athletics talent – his ability to ‘do’ – became irrelevant in those final 200m; it was his attitude and approach – his ability to ‘be’ -that enabled him to complete that race. Courageousness; determination; perseverance. The ‘be’ of the Bang.

To Do or Not to Do

January is very much a month of ‘doing’. After the blur of the Christmas period, we tend to get down to the busyness of getting our affairs in order, looking towards the year ahead, and no doubt proclaiming a fair few New Year’s Resolutions.

As we head towards the end of January, I wonder how many New Year’s Resolutions have already fallen by the wayside, swallowed up by competing priorities and perhaps less achievable – or important – than we had first felt. 

(Image: Shutterstock)

All too often, these resolutions resemble a 12 month ‘to do’ list: things we plan to achieve; things we’re going to do better; things we’re going to take up; or even things we’re going to stop. It’s very much about doing (or not doing), and in many senses that isn’t a bad thing. Whether it’s learning a new language, cutting down our carbon footprint, or reading more, these resolutions are specific, measurable, and provide a degree of accountability, at least if we’ve gone public with our New Year’s Resolutions. 

Just do it, we tell ourselves.

But wouldn’t it be more impactful if our New Year’s Resolutions were less about doing, and more about being? Rather than setting ourselves goals, and targets, and aims we wanted to achieve, far better, surely, to think about what we can be, rather than what we can do.

Be more thoughtful. Be more considerate. Be more selfless. 

I wonder whether we might even shift the way we carve up our daily tasks, focusing on a ‘To Be’ list rather than a ‘To Do’ list. As someone who needs a ‘to do list’ to keep on top of all the many spinning plates, I’d find it hard to completely drop a ‘to do’ list. But there’s no reason why a ‘To Be’ list can’t work alongside a ‘To Do’ list. I’m going to give it a go. Be first; do second. Why not join me?!

The Beauty of Being

Last weekend I witnessed a joyous, beautiful moment following the end of a competitive volleyball fixture against a local independent school – Wrekin College- where the two teams decided to stay on court after the match finished, but instead of competing against each other, they decided to mix the teams together. With the fixture already over, they wanted to continue playing just for the fun of it, with handshakes of introduction soon leading to high fives and fist pumps. This was about being, not doing.

As someone who has run competitively for the past 20 years, I’m certainly someone driven by a competitive instinct, but I’ve also always felt that sport is about so much more than winning, particularly at a school level.

Sport is, above all, fun. It’s about making friends. It’s about connecting with people, no matter if you’ve just met them and no matter where they’re from (in this instance, there were at least five nationalities represented on court). It’s about enjoying the moment, and being in the moment.

As a Head, the scoreline in that match (or in any match) doesn’t really matter to me. Seeing the way these youngsters joined together, encouraged each other, included everyone, and had fun together… that’s what matters to me, and that, to me, is what sport is all about. 

It’s not about the doing. It’s about the being. 

(Image: pupils from Oswestry School and Wrekin College enjoy a friendly game of mixed volleyball in the Momentum Hall, Oswestry)

Redmond inspired me as a youngster, and his example continues to inspire me to this day. He reminds me that life isn’t about winning, or achieving, or what we have done. People won’t remember us for the things that we’ve done; they’ll remember us, at the end of it all, for who we were. For our attitude, for our approach, for our impact on others. 

So in 2024, let’s focus on the being not the doing. Let’s do less, and be more. 

2023: A Year of Opening Doors

December 21, 2023

If your home is anything like mine, the daily ritual over the past few weeks has begun with the excitable opening of advent calendars.  When I was growing up, the humble advent calendar would be opened each morning to reveal a nativity-based image: Magi from the East in regal robes; angels in bright raiments; shepherds silhouetted against starry skies.  Largely flat, one-dimensional offerings, this was long before the evolution of advent calendars into the more elaborate, gift-dispensing treasure troves that they have now become.  These days, at the very least one can expect a decent-sized chocolate – or chocolate bar -every day (I’ll pass on the weetabix this morning, mother; this Freddo should sustain me until lunchtime), but you might equally expect a Lego or Playmobil figurine, a Smiggle Bath and Body product, or even a gemstone.  And fear not, mums and dads, these days it’s not just the kids who can expect an advent calendar.    Oh no!  Take your pick from advent calendars offering a vast smorgasbord of festive treats from cheese, beer, gin and hot chocolate to any number of other culinary delights.  There’s even a ‘12 Days of Noodles’ advent calendar for those who like nothing better than a hot bowl of winter noodles to start their December days (once you’ve finished with your Freddo, darling, would you mind taking my Tom Yum noodles out of the microwave; there’s a dear).   It’s not just food, either. There’s a ‘24 Days of Socks’ advent calendar (in case the predictable bundle of socks that every middle aged man can expect each Christmas Day isn’t enough…), a 24 Days of Beard Treats for the hirsute gentleman, and for those looking for something a little more sophisticated, Wedgewood have a Christmas Tree advent calendar with 25 rather exquisite porcelain ornaments retailing at just £860.  Bargain!

In the consumer culture that we live in, it’s perhaps inevitable that things have got bigger, though, at least in my opinion, I’m not sure they’ve got better.  You see, plain and simple though they may used to have been, the humble advent calendar of yesteryear nevertheless still induced thrill and excitement each and every morning, even without the dispensing of a chocolate, a pair of socks, or a tincture of beard oil (which, after all, might have been a little strange for a young boy to receive, albeit aspirational I suppose).  It might only have been a picture that was revealed once the calendar door was opened, but the thrill was in the anticipation of what might lie behind, and the excitement of moving one day closer to Christmas morning itself.  The thrill, in reality, was in the opening of the door itself.  

I have been musing on advent calendars over the past few days since the end of term with the time to reflect back a little on the past few months, and indeed the past year.  As thoughts inevitably turn to the new year ahead and all the possibilities and opportunities that await, I have also found it valuable to reflect back on the year past, and all that has gone before us in the past 12 months.  

So why advent calendars?  Well, I have found myself reflecting back on a lot of doors being opened this year, some literal, some more metaphoric.  Indeed, the year began back in January with the opening of our new Senior School library, with doors opening on the first day of the new term and the new year.  We actually spent quite a bit of time thinking about that door- and the entranceway to it – for we wanted it to feel different, like you were entering somewhere a little special, a little magical.  All great libraries, after all, are places of sanctuary, discovery, wonder.  So we wanted that door – and the entranceway itself – to be like a portal into a different world, for that is the true gift of libraries, and the books within them.  Much like the thrill and excitement of opening up the daily door of an advent calendar, so too should opening the pages of a new book be a thrilling experience; one of excitement and anticipation. It gives me great joy to see just how successful that Library project has been, and as the space celebrates its first birthday, it is heartening to see the Library once again at the heart of the school, and the treasure trove of books within it so greatly enjoyed. 

We likewise opened the doors to a newly-refurbished and renamed Sigi Faith Sixth Form Centre on Founder’s Day earlier this term.  Those who attended the Founder’s Day service will have been moved and inspired by the words of Sigi Faith’s daughter Nicky as she retold her father’s extraordinary story from the young 10 year old boy who left  Hamburg train station to travel to England as part of the  kindertransport to shoe-store entrepreneur who became a household name with Faith Shoes stores found in cities and towns across the country.  Oswestry School played a key part in that story, affording the young Sigi Faith with a sanctuary – or “a paradise,” as he himself would later describe it reflecting on his time here – providing him with a home, an education, and the hope that comes from possibility.  Providing him with an Oswestry education free of charge, the school quite literally opened its doors to Sigi Faith and opened its arms to embrace the young Jewish boy who spoke no English and who knew no one.  Possibilities were opened to him, and once those doors of opportunity were opened, he strode boldly forward, latterly becoming Head Boy, captain of the 1st XI, an assiduous student, and one who involved himself in the wide array of school life both inside and outside the classroom.  His is an inspiring story of hope and opportunity, and what can be achieved when doors are opened for you.  It is fitting, then, that the Sixth Form Centre should carry his name, recognising not only the generous legacy donation from the Faith family, but most importantly reminding our pupils each and every day as they walk through the doors of that new and exciting facility that opportunity and possibility awaits them; all they must do is step boldly forward.

As a school whose motto translates as We Learn not for School but for Life our aim is- and always been- to best prepare our youngsters for their adult lives beyond.  Preparing them with the skillsets and mindsets they will need for future thriving and flourishing, our job, too, is to guide them to those possibilities and, open up the doorways and pathways to the wide range of futures that awaits them.  This was the impetus behind Futures Fortnight which was one of the highlights of the term and a meaningful and insightful two weeks with future-focused lessons in the Prep School and Senior School, and a series of fascinating, engaging and inspiring talks from alumni, parents, and friends of the school.  Central to the school’s strategic plan – Forte – which was launched in September, Futures Fortnight and the broader Futures vision is a firm commitment to ensuring that an Oswestry education best prepares our youngsters for their wide – and wide-ranging – futures. 

An Oswestry education is, above all, about possibility and opportunity.  It’s what I talk about a lot when I meet with prospective parents, or alumni, or indeed anyone who’ll listen!  It’s why, when the Senior School reception underwent a refurbishment in the summer, we thought we’d do something a little different and include a secret door in the visitor room.  What appears to be a bookcase full of leather-bound tomes is in fact a hidden doorway which, aside from being rather fun, unexpected, and typically idiosyncratic, is also a visual representation of all that we do here at the school.  Far from being a gimmick, it’s a metaphor for what an inspiring education should be: a doorway to opportunities and possibilities; a doorway to self-discovery; to fun and laughter; to friendship; to happiness.  Much like the wardrobe in C.S. Lewis’s classic novel The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe opened to the magical, mystical world of Narnia, so, too, should an inspiring education be a portal into new worlds.  I like to think that Oswestry has that little bit of magic, and each day as pupils open doors into classroom or Science Lab, sports hall or theatre, swimming pool or music room, there is that same excitement, that same sense of discovery, wonder, boldness, that same childhood thrill and anticipation of what lies within, and what lies beyond.

105 school days remain this academic year.  That’s a whole lot more doors to open than your average advent calendar.  You can be sure that it will include the weird and the wonderful, the inspiring and the inventive, the bold and the beautiful, the simple, the surprising, the joyful.  It is an exciting, and thrilling, prospect.  

“If ye will all have it so, let us go on and take the adventure that shall fall to us.”
-from The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis