After the announcement of the Head Master’s retirement, he reflects on the joy of teaching and some of the highlights of his time here at Merchant Taylors’ and in his other teaching roles.
I have just shared some news with the school: at the end of the next academic year, I will end my career as a teacher and retire. I started teaching in 1990 – 35 years ago. I first joined this school as Head Master in 2013 – I am in my twelfth year of headship here. Next year will be my thirteenth year in post and the twentieth that I have been the head of a school. When I retire, I will be nearly 61 years old. It seems the right time to step back and look forward to whatever comes next.
So, I will cease to be Head Master of Merchant Taylors’ School in the summer of 2026. That is a long way off, as the process of finding a new Head Master will necessarily be a long one. The Governors will now begin the search to find my successor – who will be the 33rd person to have had the honour since the founding of the school in 1561. That process will begin immediately and will be finished by the start of July. There will then be a school year of transition.
I suppose I feel a degree of sadness at the thought of going. However, my main emotion at this moment is one of gratitude for having been given the honour of leading Merchant Taylors’ School. Even as I prepare to leave it, I consider myself to have the best job in the best profession in the world.
Why do I love headship so much? The variety of experience provided by the role is dazzling and bewildering. It’s primarily about engaging with people but has elements of finance and construction and strategy and business planning. And the people I work with are endlessly fascinating. They can never be taken for granted; children reserve an inalienable right to surprise you. I remember one very naughty pupil who long ago made the lives of teachers at her school challenging. During an OFSTED inspection, a visiting inspector walked into the classroom and sat at the back, right beside the rebellious girl. The teacher was rattled anyway but this was the last straw. He fluffed the lesson completely. Forty minutes later, as it all drew to a painful close, the teacher wished for nothing but an early grave. The naughty child leaned across to the inspector and offered a lifeline. ‘You should give him a chance,’ she said. ‘He’s not usually as bad as this.’
When I interview prospective staff, one of my standard questions is to enquire about their own experience of school. I find their answer to be extremely revealing. Very often they will speak of an inspirational teacher who made all the difference. Perhaps the teacher fostered a love of a particular subject or prompted the idea of becoming a teacher in the child. The qualities that they attribute to this teacher will be those they aspire to promote in their own teaching; that inspirational teacher’s method of communication will most likely be their own. I am also looking for enthusiasm and bright eyes as the interviewee recalls their school. I want members of staff at my own school to bring those attributes into the classroom every day.
It is worth trying to sum up what makes the experience of teaching in a good school so utterly fulfilling and enjoyable. You already know that I delight in teaching young people a subject that I love. I have also found great joy in shaping a learning culture; working through my colleagues to create and sustain a good school. Schools are wonderfully collegiate – we are all here with the same purpose, motivated by the same enthusiasms. I work alongside highly intelligent colleagues – each of whom has invested in the life of the mind. The possessors of a goodly chunk of all human knowledge gather each day in my school’s staff room and engage in thoughtful and witty conversation. I recall one polymath colleague who would stride quickly through the school corridors, scattering the slower pupils before him with the imperious cry, ‘Stand aside, child! You are impeding the progress of civilisation!’
No wonder each day feels fresh; no wonder that each day I find myself laughing heartily. With such intelligent pupils and colleagues, it is impossible to become too big headed or pompous. This is not to say that I haven’t tried. But I have always found myself cut down (to my own benefit) by witty and amused scepticism from pupils and staff.
