Dogless he meanders

By Keith Budge, Headmaster, Bedales Schools

Out early this morning.  Curious still being dogless – indeed being creatureless at 50 Church Road, our hens having been ravaged by the fox and our hairy black dog having been lodged with a family who will give her a much more active life over the next few years on the edge of the Firth of Forth (Gullane, pron Gillan) where she is scampering over the links and loving swimming on a daily basis.  So, dogless I will go to the ‘Badley Behaved’ Dog Show & Fête on Saturday; and dogless I take my early morning quick stroll before settling to the reading, writing and thinking necessary before the public bit of the day starts.

This truncated week looks pleasantly varied but with good hefty features: three governor sub-committee meetings, two external speaking events, three relatively routine internal small talks, one half day’s interviewing for a new teacher, lots of prospective parents, an evening housestaff meeting plus supper at home, an open day and, of course, the great Dog Show.

So, here I am on my dawn meanderings: along Emma’s walk, past the Jacob ewes and their lambs, looking in on the adolescent black pigs and up on to the Mem pitch, bathed in the day’s first sunlight and then back down past slumbering adult pigs, admiring the great job they’ve done clearing undergrowth.

I’ve taken a vow against nostalgia, but it is going to get increasingly difficult to hold out.  This is a place that invites reflection and creeps into your senses; having now been in Badley’s chair for longer than anyone other than Mr Badley himself, I should have a few thoughts about this school and the curious business of leading it.  Therefore, here’s a plan for the next half dozen blogs – OK, my last clutch of miscellaneous offerings: six brief reflections on different dimensions of Bedales.  I hope that they might be useful to someone at some stage.  First one (next week): place.

Strutting your mutt


By Keith Budge, Headmaster, Bedales Schools

Saturday afternoon and there is only one place to be – the Badley Behaved Dog Show and Fête on the Dunhurst pitches.  Zazu (usually benign, although sometimes dramatically not so, but always unthinking, black labrador) and I arrive a little late to find it all well under way.  There’s so much to do – much sniffing and greeting: gloating bulldogs, spry labradoodles, dopey Afghans (or it that a coat?) and even some mutts who look as if they have been specially coiffured up for the occasion.  Aha!  And there is little Toby, the most popular male mammal in the Petersfield area and one of the main reasons for visiting Bedales reception, where he presides. Another youngster wags in the distance – it’s Diggerty Cross.   And there is so much for dogs and their owners to do: Waggiest Tail, Cutest Puppy, Best Veteran, Best Pedigree Gundog, Dog Most like its Owner (steer clear of that one…) and Best Fancy Dress.  As for we two legged ones, the cream teas are beguiling, the Dalmatian Bouncy Castle inviting and as for the Waterfight Zone, well it’s soaking them up.

Zazu and I are having a nice, tranquil time: I am meeting people whom I generally know – or have met – she is meeting all sorts of new friends and is yet to have one of her cross / snarly moments.  I am not taking too many chances, having her on a (literally) very short leash.  Then, our quietish afternoon is suddenly changed by the request from the now hoarse chair of governors, Matthew Rice, that I take over the commentary from him. Whoops!  From being in gentle post-prandial, smallish talk mode to needing to sound canine-savvy amongst the doggy cognoscenti.  I haven’t even checked over breeds or warmed up the dog anecdotes. I’ve never listened to those legendary cricket commentators who can talk about nothing endlessly.  Never mind, just crack on.  It reminds me of when I was asked to  give a pep talk to a school pipes (ie bagpipers) and drums band one summer evening with about ten seconds’ notice.  I summoned up the “up and at ’em” and tried to avoid St Crispin Day echoes.

Off we go: and there is a soppy looking collie-ish creature, but what do I call it? And how can I say something not entirely fatuous about that fancy dress without it upsetting someone, probably the bearer? Things settle down after a bit. Funny how you discover – for better of worse – a kind of style.  Some of the old yarns come back.  There’s a seasonal factor here: in the summer term I need to think about dogs in advance of my annual dog assembly, so I am reminiscing about previous ones – the march of the labradors, and five things you can learn from a dog, being talks that spring to mind.  So, we have a bit of labrador breed history thrown in – and I have to break off to advertise those delicious cream teas before we get to the bit about that buoyantly woolly breed the Newfoundland.  Did you know…  Best thing is to give the microphone to the winners and to hear their stories – the rescue dogs’ owners’ being the best.

The sun continues to shine and our visitors depart, leaving the wonderful volunteers – parents and colleagues – to clear up.  More people now know about the John Badley Foundation: it enables children to come to our schools from families whose circumstances mean that a Bedales education would otherwise be completely out of reach. Perhaps they will associate it with panting geniality and cuddly hounds. There’s also something about this cranky and colourful afternoon that chimes with that fragile but precious thing, our ethos.  A medley of human and canine colour, it is a celebration of what we hold dear and of those wonderfully eccentric and precious bonds that tie us to our four legged companions: cheerful, a little quirky, certainly genial, inclusive, celebratory, colourful and proud to carve its own path.

Lucky ducks and big thinks

This headline, a Lancastrian exclamation, certainly doesn’t refer to actual ducks (who are incidentally happy with plenty of water to splash around in after mid-September downpours), neither does it refer to the nine piglets I saw sleeping cosily alongside their proud mum on my walk with my canine friends earlier this morning, nor does it refer to said two dogs, one of whom managed to steal a French loaf from my kitchen table last night and escape detection through subterfuge; but it refers to students who are encouraged to think for themselves and have the stimuli to do so. They are the lucky ducks.

At the start of the last two academic years we have had a potent symbol of this through the “Philosophy Of…” conference. The brainchild of Oscar B-W when he was in 6.1, it aims to explore the thinking that lies behind different human activities.

This year’s conference, organised by Becky G and Patrick N gave us six speakers who ran across the spectrum: conversation/writing; religion, feminism/the media, journalism in war zones, campaigning for climate justice and literary biography.DSC_0013

Here is a sample of the big thinks we were encouraged to have, drawn from the three talks I attended: when we want to be kind do we want to do so because we have been brought up to be so or because we are intuiting kindness? Would you rather save Venice for posterity or save 3000 people who might die in an earthquake in another part of Italy? What makes for a really good conversation? (Olivia Fane). What pressure can we put on our governments to ensure that the climate change talks in Paris this December are successful? How can we de-carbonize our economies? (Farhana Yamin). What are the most dangerous countries on earth? Why do we know so little about the most dangerous (the Democratic Republic of Congo)? To what degree is our view of what is happening in the world dependent on whether journalists are able to report from that country? What drives the John Simpsons and (this speaker) Oggy Botchev to take the risks they take?

We will run this conference again next year – indeed next year’s student organisers have already stepped forward. Big thinks are good at any point, but especially before the more routine business of A Level courses start to predominate.

The relationship between man and dog

Am viewing the two Budge mutts, Zazu and Ailsa, in a different light having heard last night at Jaw that they are beneficiaries of 30,000 years of domestication; so, we learn from Dr Juliane Kaminski, Director of the Dog Cognition Centre at the University of Portsmouth, dogs were the first creatures to be domesticated by humans – well before cats and horses (a mere 9,500 years for the latter). Having been at it for about 3,000 generations, our two dogs and their breeds –  black Labradors and West Highland Terriers –  should be pretty well sorted in their awareness of how to live with humans: no excuses and an expectation of ever-rising standards. But, hang on: of course, it is a two way thing and I am sure that the further we humans have moved away from serious, working relationships with most of our dogs towards a rather (confession time here..) sentimental and even self-indulgent relationship, the more flawed we have become as domesticators. Enough speculation: far better to look at Juliane’s experiments and to see how attuned dogs are to understanding humans’ wishes and even our demeanour. Even better, we can volunteer our dogs to take part in these experiments and take them to the Dog Cognition Centre (DOCCS) at Portsmouth. I feel that Zazu and Ailsa should play their part in the four-legged march towards better understanding of dog cognition.

In the meantime – and in order as well either to give your restaurant Italian some refreshment or to whet your desire to learn that beautiful language – here is an inspirational clip of man and dog in a very modern domesticated harmony:

By Keith Budge, Headmaster, Bedales Schools

Bedales School is one of the UK’s top independent private co-education boarding schools. Bedales comprises three schools situated in Steep, near Petersfield, Hampshire: Dunannie (ages 3–8), Dunhurst (ages 8–13) and Bedales itself (ages 13–18). Established in 1893 Bedales School puts emphasis on the Arts, Sciences, voluntary service, pastoral care, and listening to students’ views. Bedales is acclaimed for its drama, theatre, art and music. The Headmaster is Keith Budge.

Dog wagging tale

Ever since hearing Allen Parton and his famous dog, Endal, take an assembly here (promoting Canine Partners in 2003 or 4), I have tried to have a dog-based assembly every year. Sometimes it has been to illustrate how much more (I trust) a departing year group has learnt in its five years than one of my dogs has learnt in a comparable period: so with Ailsa, the Westie, September 2001- July 2006 vs the 6.2 leavers of 6.2, I am pleased to report a comfortable victory for the latter. Sometimes it has been a bit more discursive: the degree to which a recently shampooed and barbered dog can give you the illusion you have feelings dangerously on the edge of love towards it, whereas in its normal state your feelings are more prosaic; or last year’s 8 Things You Can Learn from a Dog  (conclusion: Dogs remind us of our need to care for other creatures but also the creaturely in us). This year’s assembly had an evolutionary element to it, with a touch of rough research. The chosen breed was the labrador retriever whose origins in Newfoundland tugging away at fishing nets and grabbing the odd cod has always struck me as exotic and intriguing; and how the smaller Newfoundland or St John’s dog (as what became the labrador retriever was known) started up as a breed in the UK, lit upon initially by two aristocrats – the Duke of Buccleuch and the Early of Malmesbury – and, then quickly becoming sought after as working dogs on shoots in the late 19th century.

After introducing them to Zazu, our two year old black lab, my quick spin over the history of dog evolution, which has arguably been a bit of a triumph for the breed, certainly compared to the progress of the wolf, and a recommendation that students read Michael Pollan‘s The Botany of Desire which looks at the clever evolutionary adaptation of various plants to suit humankind’s needs, we are into the field research, which involves us meeting almost all the teachers who have black labradors: 5 in all (2 Rowes, 1 Newman, 1 Coates and 1 Selby) and asking each owner what is a virtue and a vice of each dog. My research assistant, Freya D, records the answers. The conclusion is that labradors are generally quite gentle and patient but very greedy and occasionally show off. As far as the audience goes, they see some beautiful behaviour – no barking and only a small amount of unseemly sniffing – certainly plenty of patience; but the show is stolen by the final entrance – Toby Hardy’s Labradoodle puppy, Bella, who, in spite of being very small, walks on stage.

Hand-shaking involves a lot more patting and stroking than normal.

By Keith Budge, Headmaster, Bedales Schools

Bedales School is one of the UK’s top independent private co-education boarding schools. Bedales comprises three schools situated in Steep, near Petersfield, Hampshire: Dunannie (ages 3–8), Dunhurst (ages 8–13) and Bedales itself (ages 13–18). Established in 1893 Bedales School puts emphasis on the Arts, Sciences, voluntary service, pastoral care, and listening to students’ views. Bedales is acclaimed for its drama, theatre, art and music. The Headmaster is Keith Budge.