I knew things had gone wrong at 9pm when I got back to school from another event. The hallways were littered with trash, students were running around screaming, two girls were crying in a corner. Mr Charleswood, who had put together the quiz, looked shocked as he told me that they had consumed incredibly large amounts of sweets and energy drinks. The quiz was manic, with answers being shouted out and opposing teams being knocked out. It was 2.30 am. before they calmed down, and I was finally able to retire to sleep in the PE room, sadly without the top duck sleeping bag. One of the girls had forgotten hers so I had (awfully) lent her mine. I made a bed out of my coat on the cold, hard floor. Every time I moved a sensor the light turned on, but two hours later, I finally drifted off to the sound of someone crying. Twenty minutes later I woke up again: the crying girl’s mom had arrived to take her home. It was 5 in the morning. I put it all down to a terrible mistake – I would listen to my MPs in future – but the following week I received a letter: Dear Dr Smith, I would like to thank you for lending me your sleeping bag at the Big Sleepover. I am extremely grateful for your kindness. I wanted to express my gratitude by writing a letter. You were there in my time of need and you are a wonderful manager. Best regards, Isabelle What a perceptive young girl! I had a feeling it would go far.
April 2011
The beginning of austerity measures in the UK. I wish I knew how big the financial result was in the previous three years. We couldn’t buy the latest textbooks, we couldn’t afford to fix the leaky roof and we had to overcome subjects like design and technology at a time when schools were accused of not doing enough to encourage girls in the sector. I found myself repeatedly asking parents to donate money to replace computers, minibuses and sports equipment. The only way to generate more revenue was to retain your own students – and steal more from other schools. This meant students were bombarded with charm attacks from competing schools and more of my time was spent producing a glossy newsletter and commissioning promotional videos. We held sing-and-dance open nights, handed out school badges like confetti and offered potential sixth formers personal boards, free gym memberships and anything that couldn’t guarantee three A*s at A-level. The public purse shouldn’t be used, but schools had to use all available means to survive. However, there was a rather unfortunate end to one particular school tour. Despite my best efforts, some parents still looked incredulous, so I escorted them to the entrance, but while I was talking, something behind me caught their attention. At the same time came a strong, unmistakable smell of cannabis. The parents looked at each other and left abruptly. I turned around and there, on the grass behind me, was a pile of condoms. These were the innocent remnants of Eleven’s last day’s antics when they were blown up to decorate our school sign. The cannabis cloud, meanwhile, came courtesy of a neighbor who used the shed at the end of his garden for ‘relaxing’. Desperate, I considered chasing down the parents to explain. Instead, I moved closer to the hangar, took several deep breaths. I suddenly felt much more relaxed about losing the sale.
July 2011
I first met Sabrina Petersen* during the annual sponsored walk. She and her friend were falling behind and, as a so-called “broom,” there was no way to escape their awkward conversation, which covered such weighty topics as: whether pink or white marshmallows taste better and the last time they had get into a dog For five hours, the constant flow of them almost wore me out. If these were the typical thoughts of all Year Eights, surely the nation’s future prosperity was in doubt. Five years later, during mock interviews at Oxbridge, I came face to face with Sabrina again and was intrigued to see that she had applied to read politics at Cambridge. Our panel setup was scary, but Sabrina seemed confident and I wondered how long until that false confidence wore off. As the first question was asked, “Should a political party define ideology or should ideology define the party?” I straightened up. Oh, the faithless one! It was a few minutes before Sabrina eloquently drew the strands of her argument to a conclusion and we could catch our breath. her masterful delivery blew us away. We asked her more difficult questions, but there was nothing she couldn’t answer with ease. Afterwards we all agreed that he would probably come to our attention as a member of the Cabinet.
July 2014
My first seven years had passed in the blink of an eye. My original Year Sevens had experienced the whole of secondary education under my leadership. Our academic results had also improved significantly. in 2011, Ofsted upgraded us to ‘outstanding’. However, there were obstacles at every turn: DfE interference, mountains of administration, parental complaints, staffing issues and daily incoming nonsense. Seeds of dissatisfaction with the system began to take root in my mind.
April 2015
On the wall of my office hung a picture of Napoleon crossing the Alps on horseback, in his victorious attitude. As this term seemed to have gone well, I secretly ventured to liken myself to that great leader, spurring my troops on to greater things—brilliant, incorruptible, faultless. Fortunately, in education you are never far from something that will rudely bring you back down to earth and remind you not to be cocky… For me, this was a disastrous convention. I really enjoy giving assemblies. You become the center of attention, tell some humorous jokes and, unlike my social interactions where people tend to walk away when I start talking, the audience is captivated. On this particular morning I was trying to cheer myself up at the end of a busy term. What I meant to say was, “We’ve all had a ridiculous amount of success recently.” Unfortunately, what came out was, “We’ve all had some ridiculous sex recently…” He quickly followed, “Success. Success. A ridiculous amount of SUCCESS.’ There was a short pause and then the room erupted. They screamed and screamed while I put on a neutral expression on my face and looked at my speech. A little later, I replaced my painting of Napoleon with a different one of him, lying in a chair alone and shapeless. Frustration and anger can be seen on his face. His downfall is near, the destruction of his empire is decided. I find this image really helps keep me grounded.
October 2015
One Monday morning in the fall term, two large boxes of chicken kievs mysteriously disappeared from the kitchen. We will probably never know the fate of those 32 chicken fillets, but there was a significant difference of opinion among the staff as to who had taken them, with accusations being dropped. The ensuing investigation included witness statements, timeline, debriefing, interviews with the protagonists and their union representatives, a tour of the freezer and scanning of CCTV footage. The inquiry report forced me to organize a hearing of the governors, which lasted a full morning. After all that, there was no evidence to incriminate anyone. Once again, more time had been wasted. The Kievas were still missing and none of it had made one iota of difference in the education of our students.
June 2016
A recurring belief of older generations is that growing up these days is much easier. After a grueling holiday with my children, I became a paid member of this school of thought and delivered a convention on the subject, explaining how I had the hardest time: I had been fed a diet of dripping beef rather than kale and quinoa. , and unlike them, had not received constant technological stimulation. Instead, I had to learn to amuse myself for hours with something as simple as a stick. Halfway through, I realized that something terrible had happened: I had transformed into my father. Even my hands were joined in the same position. It happens to all of us, but it’s still a shock to discover you’ve become an irritating old fart. There was no going back, although I briefly considered growing a hipster beard. The more I thought about all this, the more I realized that the younger generation is under more mental pressure than ever before. Our students are the first generation born in a digital age. They have no escape from addictive, 24-hour online culture or relentless social media peer judgment. Many lack the stability previously provided by faith and family. Physically, things are no better, with childhood obesity and diabetes on the rise. Efforts to address this led to an explosion of support staff: suddenly we used all sorts of pastors, counsellors, custodial officers, mental health professionals, student mentors, catch-up coordinators – but it was never enough. I decided to implement a “health curriculum,” based on the work of geographer Dan Buettner, who had identified the five “blue zones,” or places where people live longer and have low levels of chronic disease—Japan, Italy, Greece, Costa Rica and California. They all had certain habits in common: family was a priority. They take time every day to escape the hustle and bustle of life. they ate moderate amounts of fresh, unprocessed produce. they didn’t hit the gym or run marathons as their exercise came from…
