Place: Outside

In his last term after 17 years as Headmaster of Bedales, Keith Budge is writing a series of six reflections on the school. The theme of this first blog is ‘Place: Outside’.

ODW0011 pre-1908 (2611)

It’s easy to become inured to the beauty of this place. “I’d forgotten it was so beautiful,” were the first words I heard from a returning head boy as he stood outside the old Reception several years after he had left, soaking it all up as he gazed at the place whose beauty he had grown up in and taken for granted.

Steep wasn’t John Badley’s initial choice of place. He took a 21 years’ lease on the 30 acres of the Old Bedales at Lindfield near Hayward’s Heath where the school first started in January 1893. He had hoped to extend the building, but the development of that site proved difficult. So he looked for a larger space where he could build afresh and bought the 100 acres of Church (or Steephurst) Farm here at Steep, to which the seven girls and 70 boys moved in September 1900.

Steephurst, an unprepossessing brick building then, was the farm house; there were some barns – the one beside Steephurst that is now the drama studio and the Black Barn – but otherwise Badley had to build. So, the move to Steep gave the opportunity for the school’s early folklore to develop. The E.F. Warren Main School building with the Quad at its centre was unfinished when that valiant band of 77 students moved here in 1900. The Quad, open to the elements, was bare earth and snow drifted into the rooms that surrounded it in the first harsh winter.

Badley’s belief in the influence of the environment and the importance of his students having space to roam went hand in hand with the virtues of manual work. Read ‘School Talks in Peace and War’ and you will see that for example in July 1914 in his Jaw ‘What the School Stands For’ he is explicit on this matter: “health, freedom, comradeship”.  At this same period he talks about the importance of manual work, which is important for four reasons: it is healthy, real, necessary and unselfish.

Later in 1911, in a Jaw called ‘The Building of Thelema’, it is clear that the building of the school in his promised land of Steep is the physical act and emblem of the creation of his educational vision: “Year by year the building is going on and you are helping to build it. I do not mean these actual buildings of brick and timber, or even the [Lupton] Hall that is beginning to rise as your gift to your school… For the spirit in which we work and live is the stuff with which we build the city of our dreams.”

For us, the sense that the place has been moulded by the work of generations of students and staff is integral to its influence on how we feel and think about it. The awareness that this process of continuous change is healthy and invigorating is at the heart of that influence.

By Keith Budge, Headmaster, Bedales Schools

Thomas-y ramblings

By Keith Budge, Headmaster, Bedales Schools

Out early this morning into the Ashford Hangers – daguerreotype shades initially as I climb up the muddy path, past black dog’s favourite pond (good dipping here) into the other green world where Edward Thomas loved to tramp.  A half hour’s climb in the half light is a tonic: imagine never wanting to come back to your home – to a cup of jasmine tea, the prospect of whatever ingenious notices our students will surprise me and my colleagues with and a varied, engaging day.

Walk in the Hangers to feel a bit Thomas-y;  saunter from Winchester to St Cross to feel a bit Keatsian, especially in this season hoping  that Autumn’s defining poem (“season of mists and mellow fruitfulness” etc) really was composed on that walk.  Having been born in the most unpoetic part of Britain (Fylde Coast), it is a constant delight to find myself in one of the most poetic places.  As usual, I wonder why I don’t do this every day.

A couple of weeks ago I couldn’t stop myself thinking about Thomas as I pick up an apple crossing the Orchard on the way to talk to the recently arrived Block 3s about some of the dos and don’ts of Bedales life.  Picking up the apple, a half-remembered line from a Thomas poem, which I taught decades ago, comes back into my head: “I cannot bite the day to the core”.  The Block 3s, being a responsive lot, come up with all available symbolic associations for the apple when I bring it into my talk – Apple (of course), temptation and experience.  Re-reading the E.T poem in question (The Glory) I am taken by his description of time – what sort of life must you be living if you find time “dreary-swift”?

But it is with the experience bit in mind, and the hope that the weekend really will be bitten to the core, that we set out on Badley Weekend – a combination of whole school efforts on Saturday at each of the three schools and the big community fair on Sunday, the weekend aims to be an example of John Badley’s founding principle of ‘Head, Hand and Heart’ in action.   It is an ambitious idea and each year we sit back and think hard about what worked and what didn’t.

Some of us would love to do more work in the whole school effort – once you get your method for filling your wheelbarrow with sand and steering it along the path, you do want to keep going.  Seeing the finished path (the Roman Road) and admiring not only what we did this year but also the fruits of our labours from last year, it is satisfying.   The community fair passes off very well – a big, different kind of effort where the work falls more on the staff than the students, but a good deal of money is raised for our three charities – Mencap, the King’s Arms and our own bursary fund, the John Badley Foundation.  Here are some photos to give you a flavour.

Next week, the big HMC (Headmasters and Headmistresses) conference that I have put together takes place in Belfast.  There are already some by-products of that event which will benefit Bedales  – more from there as the three days evolve.

The Glory

The glory of the beauty of the morning, –
The cuckoo crying over the untouched dew;
The blackbird that has found it, and the dove
That tempts me on to something sweeter than love;
White clouds ranged even and fair as new-mown hay;
The heat, the stir, the sublime vacancy
Of sky and meadow and forest and my own heart: –
The glory invites me, yet it leaves me scorning
All I can ever do, all I can be,
Beside the lovely of motion, shape, and hue,
The happiness I fancy fit to dwell
In beauty’s presence. Shall I now this day
Begin to seek as far as heaven, as hell,
Wisdom or strength to match this beauty, start
And tread the pale dust pitted with small dark drops,
In hope to find whatever it is I seek,
Hearkening to short-lived happy-seeming things
That we know naught of, in the hazel copse?
Or must I be content with discontent
As larks and swallows are perhaps with wings?
And shall I ask at the day’s end once more
What beauty is, and what I can have meant
By happiness? And shall I let all go,
Glad, weary, or both? Or shall I perhaps know
That I was happy oft and oft before,
Awhile forgetting how I am fast pent,
How dreary-swift, with naught to travel to,
Is Time? I cannot bite the day to the core.

– Edward Thomas