Danish influences

By Keith Budge, Headmaster, Bedales Schools

Hygge – that’s it!

An unusual moment of revelation – more penny dropping than Eureka: it’s not gesundheit, it’s hygge (pron. hooga).

It’s a balmy Saturday evening, 7ish and I am standing by our new, sleek pizza oven as Head of Outdoor Work (ODW), Andrew Martin, his outdoor worker colleague, Feline Charpentier and 6.2 housemistress Jo Alldridge are feeding the oven (slim and chalky) with a range of tasty pizzas; teacher-pizzaiolos, they are translating flour, water and ingredients into the most scrumptious little creations.  A touch of Naples in the soft underbelly of Hampshire. The setting is the Barnyard – the area at the heart of ODW – which is, well, the heart of school hygge. It is the weekend activity which has the theme of, yes, pizza. You can eat your pizza on a straw bale (i.e. you sitting on one, cradling your pizza) and even watch a film about, yes, pizza.  Encouragingly, people are more interested in talking to each other than watching the film.  Dogs and small children add to the scene.

Hygge, a concept probably as unknown as quinoa in England before that tongue twister became trendy, may still be unfamiliar to some readers, so, ever keen to promote European understanding and travel, here is a link to Visit Denmark to give you the authentic, Danish take on their word (well, the Norwegians had a hand it in it but that’s word-traffic, Scandinavian style for you, facilitated by very unhygge-like fighting).

Drawn to the magic of the pizza oven and its ever-hungry queue of students I find myself having an illuminating talk with Kirstine who is a proper Dane and she helps my understanding further – yes, this would qualify as hygge – indeed the atmosphere could be described as hyggehit, meaning full of hygge.  I tuck this one away, ready to trump (tricky word now) other wordy smart alecs…

In fact, this occasion, with fifty or so of the boarders who are in at the weekend, is the second instance of hygge in ODW on Saturday.  At lunchtime the Block 3 tutor groups had entertained their parents to a lunch, not only prepared by them but made using ingredients that they had created during the course of the their first year at Bedales, meaning grown (radishes, broad beans, French onions, cabbage) or raised (sausages, very tasty).  Although I only caught the end of the lunch, having been in a governors’ meeting all morning, I’d say that hygge might well have been at large then again.

Is it all admin?

By Keith Budge, Headmaster, Bedales Schools

Does my life consist of admin? I think this obtuse thought having done some of my early morning farming duties – feeding of chickens (increasingly friendly and productive) and walking of dog (always in search of old tennis ball) – as I walk around the estate, squinting at the Downs through the mist and greeting other early morning dog walkers.

Admin? In Scotland the stress is generally put on the second syllable, which gives it a jauntier feel, but it doesn’t have a jaunty reputation.  I am replaying a conversation I had last weekend at a wedding when I was asked by a teacher – do you spend your whole time doing admin?  No, I said, but now I am thinking about what I do and whether it is admin (however stressed).

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Bedales Taster Day

So, let’s give yesterday a whirl.  Big day on interviewing – that was about six hours.  Then, a quick excursion to our outdoor Sotherington Theatre that involved seeing the finale of a feeder school taster day  – a couple of entertaining playlets on quasi classical themes which mixed, for example, the Jack and Jill story with the myth of Sisyphus  (hills/pails/stones etc); all capped by an impromptu lunch of stuffed dates and the most delicious Roman dip of multiple herbs and spices – hypotrimma – courtesy of Head of Classics, Chris Grocock and his wife, Sally, who is a Roman culinary expert.  Seriously tasty and always nice to eat alongside toga-clad folk.

What then?  Some time with a group of parents discussing the importance of the Bedales ethos – how we endeavour to retain the right balance between giving our students an appropriate amount of freedom whilst keeping them safe and fulfilling our statutory responsibilities.  Then a prospective parent, who is Italian, which I always like.

This followed by a major annual landmark moment, which is the final Wednesday afternoon tutor time with my outgoing head boy/head girl team.  We have tea in strong late afternoon sunshine on the terrace at home and devour a jam sponge cake; then I let them know who their successors are going to be – they, along with teachers, having had a strong influence on the final decisions.  Next stage is for the five of us to go over to my office where there is much hugging (by them of the new people) and I meet each of the incoming head student team and pop the question.  The incoming team, accompanied by the outgoing one, then go across to Jaw where they do their first “shush” to much acclamation. It’s all very touching and affirming.  So, many thanks to Becky, Max, Patrick and Bea for all their great work and fine leadership; and congratulations and the best of luck to Luca, Sam, Ce and Michael as they set out on their year’s term of office.

Next thing is Jaw, which is taken by students – brothers Noah and Rafferty and Maisie (6.1 and 2 and Block 4 respectively) who recount their experience of working in refugee camps in Dunkirk and Calais over the holidays.  It is a powerful account and one of the strongest pieces of testimony I have heard to the transformative effect of working in those kinds of situations. Handshaking follows.

It’s now 7ish and, after a bit of scurrying around in the office (admin, I suppose) checking some letters and I am over in the main theatre greeting parents whose children are joining Block 3 in September.  We have our usual mixed panel – a range of staff and four students, mainly Block 4s.  The session is followed by a buffet supper in the Dining Hall. The hall is busy with new parents meeting their youngsters’ Badley tutors and house staff.  It is a convivial and productive occasion which always makes me feel good about the term to come and mitigates something of the impending sense of loss which comes with the prospect of losing a 6.2 year group that we have all become very fond of.

Back home to make a phone call to offer that job and then something to eat and a little bit of relaxation.

Admin? Not really.  Plenty varied for sure.

May ideas swim

Mizzling is the word, I think, for the gentle rain that greets me and my fellow Poetry Society breakfasters as we gather by Steephurst, ready to head up to the Poet’s Stone for our annual May breakfast.  The celebrants all bring poems and we have a good range:  plenty of Edward Thomas of course, some Shelley, Browning and a jewel of a Robin Robertson poem, Swimming in the Woods, which I read and I can’t resist copying in below.

The rain stops; early sun lights up Steep woods, which we admire from our vantage point on the Hangers’ flank by Thomas’ sarsen stone.  Magical stuff.

The week’s big external facing event has been our Liberating Leaders conference which we ran in partnership with the Times Educational Supplement and King Edward VI School Bury St Edmunds.  Most conferences have at least one soggy item; I could not spot one in our line-up.  So, here are some very personal highlights.

Sir Michael Wilshaw (Chief Inspector of Education, Children’s Services and Skills) reminiscing in a finely wrought speech about the maverick headteachers who had shaped his professional life and the need for schools to enable the best characteristics of the maverick to inform teachers’ work.  Look out for the cross backlash from educators who feel that this is a bit ripe given his time at Ofsted.

Danielle Harlan (Founder and CEO of the Centre for Advancing Leadership and Human Potential) on authenticity as a leader, employee engagement (which is – sad fact – stuck at 13% worldwide) and unleashing creativity.  An extraordinarily lucid but profound presentation that was in itself a masterclass in clear and memorable communication. New verb alert – to “geek out” over someone = state of admiration and adulation of a senior, august academic figure by a scholarly acolyte/admirer.

Barbara Oakley (Professor of Engineering at Oakland University, Rochester, Michigan) on re-making  your brain and lessons learnt from her creation and co-teaching of the world’s most popular (1.5 million students) Massive Open Online Course (MOOC).  She is very keen that Bedales launches a MOOC – we will explore this.  An account – as scholarly as it was homely – of her distinctive path, her own learning and some of the ways in which we can improve our learning. Key tip: buy a Pomodoro (tomato shaped timer) or set one up as an app and work in 25 minute chunks; give yourself rewards after each 25 minutes; sleep and exercise aplenty.  That classy organ, the brain, loves these rhythms.  Get it right and, like Barbara, you start with Russian and end up a leading Professor of Engineering – and meet your future life partner at the South Pole.

Happily for our students, a number of them were able to attend the conference.  Most will have heard Danielle’s assembly on Monday and many also heard Barbara talk about girls and STEM subjects. You can view the speakers’ presentations here.

In all, the many of us who heard these inspiring people can justly feel lucky ducks (as they say in Lancashire).

So here is that poem: enjoy the half term break, and maybe some wild swimming.

Swimming in the Woods by Robin Robertson 

Her long body in the spangled shade of the wood
was a swimmer moving through a pool:
fractal, finned by leaf and light;
the loose plates of lozenge and rhombus
wobbling coins of sunlight.
When she stopped, the water stopped,
and the sun remade her as a tree,
banded and freckled and foxed.

Besieged by symmetries, condemned
to these patterns of love and loss,
I stare at the wet shape on the tiles
till it fades; when she came and sat next to me
after her swim and walked away
back to the trees, she left a dark butterfly.

 

 

 

 

Space to make and grow

Much talk here about creativity and its links with entrepreneurship.  This comes partly through discussions with parents (current and prospective), colleagues and students, partly because of the changes we are seeing to buildings and spaces at Bedales and partly because of the way in which the aspirations of young Britons in their twenties seem to have changed.

Let me try to flesh out each of these three threads in turn.

You do not need to be a futurologist to see that the world of work has changed markedly from the one most parents of secondary school age parents emerged into.  Jobs within corporate structures for life are rare; serial careers will increasingly become the norm; individuals will have to become much more proactive in the development of their own personal “brand”; and chunk of jobs in professions currently considered to be relatively safe from automation will disappear as some of the more routine work done by, for example, lawyers and pharmacists is automated.

Accompanying parents’ awareness that this will be the case is a healthy scepticism about schools’ ability to prepare children for the future.  Strange to find me saying this? Maybe.  But think about the way that the state determines the curriculum: decisions taken by Michael Gove in, say, 2011 will affect those sitting some GCSEs in 2017 and therefore those students emerging into the workplace from 2019 at the earliest – 2022 if they have gone to university.  And this was a (famously) quick curriculum change (and maybe with an eye more to the past than the future, but that’s another topic).

You do not need to have seen Sir Ken Robinson’s famous TED talk to know that the way that our schools are organised, with the emphasis on orderly progression and the silos of individual subjects is largely a Victorian creation.  Schools are good at doing all sorts of things but in general they adjust only in miniscule ways to the needs of the future.  My education equipped me splendidly to stride out into the empire that had more or less disappeared by my birth.

Second thread: changes to buildings and spaces.  Create a new building which combines all the different elements of Design (i.e. designing anything and making anything) with all the different elements of Fine Art and you have new possibilities; put that new Art & Design building close to the department (Outdoor Work) that also builds, creates and grows things (from lettuces to pigs, via hedges and barns, not to mention chutney, pizzas, duck houses and fleeces) and you are making a space where all sorts of additional things will happen.  Have an idea? Good, you can probably see if it will work.

Creating the space within and between these areas of endeavour will only result in interesting things happening if these moves are accompanied by a no-fear, can-do, give-it-a-go approach by the teachers who oversee them and a broader willingness to trust students to develop their initiatives.  I am very confident that this instinct is alive and well here.

Third thread: young Britons in their twenties (aka millenials) are much more likely to want to run their own business and to favour a high degree of autonomy over their lives than their parents.  Having children and numerous nieces and nephews in these areas, it is clear that the proportion of them and their friends whose interests lie in either starting a business themselves or joining a small enterprise is considerable.  The reputation that London – and in particular its hipster /start up centres such as Shoreditch – has gathered as a start up hub is of course a factor, but I suspect that this is much more trend than fad.

My spur to writing about this came on Monday morning when I watched a lesson which involved the making of butter in Outdoor Work.  There in the folksy surroundings of the Bakery I saw eight Block 3s make butter from scratch: the pouring of Jersey unpasteurised cream into little hand churners; the careful churning; the separation of the butter from the butter milk; the patting of the butter and then the addition of different flavours – garlic, radish, tarragon or chilli.   As the Outdoor Work farm shop (under the ODW clock tower) becomes a reality next academic year, the incentive for students to devise new things they want to make and sell will increase.  I heard yesterday that one is now developing a business making soap.  Expect a farm shop with a big range of products. This is a space definitely to be watched.

Live things

Being away can be stimulating; being back always is.  Evening events and livestock seem to be the two themes of the last few days.

Take last night’s Global Awareness Jaw. Led by Block 5 reporting back on their visit to Woodstock School, Mussourie, India; it began with an extraordinary piece of music composed by Richie and music teacher Giacomo Pozzuto, with Richie on the tabla* and Giacomo on the oboe.  All of the students who went to this remarkable spot, perched on the Himalaya, have a hand in the composition of the presentation and three head it up.  Amongst the various memories that will anchor in the young minds watching, I suspect the spell cast by the sight and sound of tabla and oboe – the interplay of  East and Western musical traditions – will feature most.

Other evening excitements included Sunday’s Professional Guidance department presentation to 6.1 parents on Higher Education: primarily about university entry, it’s an encouraging picture that we present – not only of some of the most sought after universities being able to offer more places to candidates who gain ABB or above at A Level, but of the increasing proportion of our students gaining places at Russell Group universities.  It is the start of the cycle for the new 6.1s.  Next week I will give my annual assembly to the school on higher education, as the most important message is the old adage:  hard work + passion for your chosen subjects + working closely with your teachers = success; and the earlier that starts, the greater the success – and the more enjoyable the journey.

Tuesday evening and I am entertaining a group of fellow headteachers (collective name possibilities, a swelling of heads or a lakh of principals), initially to a meeting and then to dinner at 50 Church Road.  The 86 Group, 20 years old now, comprises 16 schools from across the south east who have enough in common and who enjoy each other’s company enough to meet termly to discuss things of common interest.  Trust and humour are the glue. Meetings of heads of 86 group schools’ departments also happen and are generally handy.  Sitting in the alcove at No 50, the evening light on the great oak tree is particularly wonderful and the birdsong stunning.

Which takes me on to livestock.  The new lambs are in Butts’ Field now and (yes, honestly) are gambolling in the evening sunlight as I walk back from home after Jaw and chat to some Block 3 boys about why lambs like going into the wooden shelter that our alpacas so scorned.  We will all feel easier about the lambs’ transition along the food chain (mint sauce is the clue here) when the time comes, because they have not been named.

This is not the case with the new quartet of 50 Church Road hens, who have recently been named.  Unlike their predecessors, who were uniformly brown, either Waitrose rejects or rescue hens, depending on how you spin it, these are proper, svelte and gorgeous young creatures, a mere few weeks old and full of adolescent preening, with a good three of four years of productive laying ahead.   Given the hopes that we pin on them, the capital outlay (x 6 of their predecessors) and their splendid distinguishing plumage and general pomp, we take the bold step of naming.  Following a brief and entirely frivolous What’s App consultation with our own offspring, they are named: Snowy (the white one), Bluebell (bluish and that’s her breed and its bluebell time in Steep woods), Chicken (brown and looks like one) and Chardonnay, after the memorable character in Footballers’ Wives, Series 1, who was herself named after the over-worked varietal type of the extravagant 80s.  I trust that they are all going to behave, especially Chardonnay.

 

*NB The left hand plays the bass on the wider drum called the “dugga” and the right hand plays the lead drums on the “tabla”. Together, the drums are also called “tabla”.

Conferring on boarding

Just about to leave the Boarding Schools’ Association (BSA) conference in the heart of Victorian Manchester. Much good idea sharing and updating on everything from safeguarding to outreach, but it will be the memory of positive advocates for boarding that will stick with me above all.  Both are men who exemplify the degree to which the right kind of boarding experience can have a transformative effect on the individual’s confidence.  In the BSA magazine, Tony Little, former head of Eton, described the quality well: “through my own experience [in boarding] I have seen students metamorphose from cautious caterpillars into bold caterpillars ready to take flight”.

The first example was Ben Fogle whose speech, early in the conference, referred to the way his experience at Bryanston had transformed him.  In the BSA magazine he summarises it: “Shy as a mouse, I lacked a voice and probably a personality”.  Boarding was a powerful ingredient of “confidence… confidence in me. I began to feel comfortable in my own skin.”  He concludes by describing confidence as the antithesis of the public school swagger: it’s “a virtue. A skill. A feeling. A value.”  His testimony and his subsequent life are fine examples of the effect of that miscellaneous bundle of experiences, mainly encountered outside the classroom, that go under the dry expression ‘co-curricular’ (switching on the TV late last night, there is his large frame, commenting on the mating habits of wildebeest).

The second example of confidence in action was last night’s after dinner talk by Frank Gardner, the BBC’s Security Correspondent and ex Marlborough student.  Although he would be the last one to describe himself in this way, his talk and his life are, like Fogle’s, an example of physical and moral courage.  Frank described how his experience at school made him hungry to get out and do new things once he left Marlborough.  This translated into him, as a student of Arabic, having the chutzpah to knock on the door of a family in Cairo and ask if he could live with them and learn their language.  His account of his near fatal wounding at the hands of Al Qaeda affiliates (“losers”, as he described them) in 2004 was especially powerful: his extraordinary luck in surviving that attack and the way that writing his experience down had been decisive for his state of mind.  Here is an example of both confidence and an inspirational, cheerful resilience: his conclusion “life is still an awful lot of fun”.

‘Seeing afresh’

It’s a crisp April early morning – sun shining and another pair of Jacob lambs born – just three ewes yet to lamb as singular black dog and I enjoy an amble around our beautiful estate. Woodpeckers are hammering away and a small skein of yelping Canada geese swoop in to the lake as we set off.

My usual sense of vicarious trepidation at the prospect of lots of students taking public exams is tempered by the memory of last night’s assembly from Head of Academic Enrichment, Clare Jarmy.  Her other role as Head of Philosophy, Religion and Ethics gives her a clear advantage in developing a compelling reason why all our students have good reason to look forward to exams and to see them as underpinning a very important stage in their learning.  Going over her reasoning on my morning stroll, it makes yet more sense as I rehearse the argument in my mind.  So here goes.

In order for us all to move our learning forward we need help making the jumps from what we can currently do to the next stage: seen pictorially this is about us jumping up a further stage – or, using the educational terminology, the zone of proximal development.  Teachers are the most usual way that we are helped to make that shift –

Clare’s point is that revision for exams – best described not using its literal meaning of “seeing again” but considered as “seeing afresh” – is the point when we as learners have to consolidate the learning that we have previously been assisted with.  Put differently, we re-make the learning and make it our own.

Finally, she identified another critical distinction that should help our students understand the potential benefits of this process more fully.  This has to do with the difference between extrinsic and intrinsic motivation – the difference between doing something because it gets you something else you want, and doing something for its own sake.  Clare left the students with the possibility that one thing that many of them might be discovering was that the process of revision helped them understand that they had a strong intrinsic motivation to learn.  It was at this point I learned my new word for the day – “enculturement”, which Clare used to describe the educational process central to humanity which enables people to gain an understanding of the world and what is intrinsically worthwhile.  This view, central to the writing of philosopher John McDowell, is that it is through culture that we acquire a “second nature” above and beyond our animal needs.  Education, and in particular independent learning, makes us who we are.

Intriguing stuff: Clare’s article, published here, will further enlighten.