I’ve heard it said that you’re not all bad. That you have given confidence and direction to thousands of boys and young men. That some of your life lessons – on healthy living, nutrition and exercise – are sound. I’ve heard it said that you provide belonging, purpose, ambition.
There is no doubt that you are influential. And your methods are successful.
You are a leader.
And here the problems begin. And the problems grow. And they multiply and are boosted by algorithms. They go viral, these problems. Because of you.
Because, these life lessons are fuelled, as far as I can see, by a powerful poison.
You are a mis-leader.
Your methods are designed to beguile. To look good. Healthy even. To normalise your views on women, for example.
The values you promote as traditional, protective, quasi-religious truths are pernicious, disrespectful and harmful. They are noxious.
If you mix the good with the bad, the bad wins. An omelette can be made of free range, organic eggs and presented on a clean, white plate. But, if the cook has added arsenic, it is lethal.
Socrates was condemned to death for corruption of the youth. He was made to drink hemlock – a poison. His ‘crime’ was getting people to think critically for themselves. To free them from the chains of blind assumptions and received ideas.
Who knows what crimes you may or may not have committed? That’s another matter.
But corruption of the youth? As a parent and an educator, this concerns me deeply. There are so many influences out there. How do we ensure that our children know the good influence from the bad?
Good parenting, for sure. Strong communities with open discussion.
In schools, we strive to promote values of respect, tolerance and acceptance. Modern values that celebrate difference.
And we live in an age of free speech. As Voltaire famously wrote: “I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it.” The same spirit that did for Socrates. And that liberates minds.
Perhaps we need to listen even more carefully these views of yours. To understand your methods.
All the better to dismantle them.
In some ways, you may actually help us. If we handle you wisely. If we examine your ways, we can identify the wrong turns our boys and men could take. And we can better promote the wonderful variety of positive masculinities.
“Always pass on good advice. […] It is never any use to oneself.’ So said Oscar Wilde. Another legendary wit, PG Wodehouse, similarly observed: ‘I always advise people not to give advice’. Which gives at least two good reasons to ignore everything else that follows…
Yet, it’s my solemn duty, as a headmaster, as a parent, as a person of 50 odd years – some of them very odd – to take this opportunity to offer a final volley of advice to you – our leavers – today.
And the theme, irresistibly, is that of the journey. ‘Oh, the places you’ll go!’
Because today is about departures. 175 of them – each individual, each full of hope and dazzling potential. Each journey preciously unique. Some of you know exactly where you’re heading – ‘you’ll head straight out of town’. Others are going to see where the winds take you. All of you will go out into the world and make a difference. Because:
‘You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes You can steer yourself Any direction you choose’
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Cue another inevitability: a final reference to our most famous Old Salopian…
In August 1831, Charles Darwin rushed home from a geology trip to Wales to find a letter from his Cambridge professor and mentor J. S. Henslow. It contained a chance of a lifetime: an invitation to go on a trip around the world on the HMS Beagle. Darwin was elated—he was longing to travel and explore natural history in tropical lands.
His father, however, threw cold water on the idea. It was time for Charles to settle down, he said, not go dashing off on some “wild scheme.” The plan was reckless, dangerous and unfitting for a future clergyman. Despondent, Charles turned down the invitation. But his father had left one ray of hope: “If you can find any man of common sense who advises you to go, I will give my consent.” No one was more sensible and respected by his father than Charles’s uncle Josiah Wedgwood. Fortunately Josiah sided with Charles, collaborating to craft a point-by-point response that changed his father’s mind – and Charles Darwin’s future.
When Darwin began the five year Beagle voyage, he was green and inexperienced. He returned a seasoned naturalist. He grew from a wide-eyed observer into a profound analytical thinker. Darwin knew himself better – and he had the beginnings of a theory that changed the world.
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Leaving school is a defining moment of self-determination. Today, your ships set sail. We parents and staff are standing on the harbour wall. We will wave you off with final words of advice and high hopes that your journey is full of adventure, full of discovery.
Final Callover
What advice can we give? Perhaps this simple instruction: “Be who you are and say what you feel: because those who mind don’t matter; and those who matter don’t mind”. Not the words of Mahatma Ghandhi; nor Michelle Obama; nor our own Charles Darwin. Theodore Geisel. Better known as Dr Seuss whose words are on the inside of our order service today. Five years of a Shrewsbury education, and the Headmaster quotes Dr Seuss!
For me, Seuss was a genius. A professor of serious fun. Running through all the eccentric nonsense, there is a golden thread of humane and kindly wisdom.
Dr Seuss’ stories always affirm our individual integrity to be who we are, and confidently so. He reminds us that whilst we will always care what others think of us – we should not fear judgement.
You’re off to Great Places! You’re off and away!
Albert Einstein – another professor of serious fun – said that “Life is like riding a bicycle: to keep your balance, you must keep moving”. The journey again. This time on a bike. Sometimes we will spot the potholes and be resourceful in riding round them; other times we will need the resilience to ride through them. Keep moving.
This is ‘Good Advice’.
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Just a few weeks ago, I gave the eulogy at the funeral of my 98 year old step-grandmother, Marie. Her life’s journey had taken her from the blitz years in London, to mobster life in Brazil, through motherhood into grand and great grandparenthood. We called her the Old Bat.
In one of my last conversations with her, Marie passed on her top bits of advice. “Leo”, she said, “You should always be early; and you should always say thank you. And whatever you do, you should always give 100% – unless you’re giving blood”. She cackled merrily. Her journey almost over, the Old Bat still had joy in her heart.
Listening to people talking about their memories of Marie, it struck me that nobody mentioned her qualifications – or lack of them; how much she did or didn’t earn. No-one spoke about her CV. After a long, eventful life, people remembered Marie’s virtues – the kindness she showed to others.
Much of the time, entirely understandably, we focus on the accumulation of skills; the accrual of aptitudes – qualifications – passports to the next port of call; tickets to ride. Yet, in the final analysis, whilst our successes may be praiseworthy and our accomplishments noble, it is how we treat other people that is the true measure of a life. And, as Philip Larkin concludes in his exquisite poem ‘An Arundel Tomb’: “What will survive of us is love.”
As you leave school, I hope your journey is a long one, full of adventure, full of discovery. In our reading, Constantine Cavafy channels Homer’s epic poem The Odyssey. After fighting the Trojan Wars, our hero, Odysseus, takes 10 years to get back to his homeland, the island of Ithaka. On his journey, he endures endless obstacles and distractions; alluring sirens and seducers; intoxication; various terrifying monsters, storms and shipwreck.
The poet suggests that it is the manner in which we pursue our goals – the ‘how’ of our lives – that will truly define us. As we each pursue our own personal Ithakas, it is the voyage that makes us. Looking further, we see that Ithaka – our intended destination – is not an external thing; it is self-knowledge. We remember, the two-word message at the oracle in Delphi: ‘Know Thyself’.
The legendary physicist and another exponent of serious fun, Professor Richard Feynman, shrewdly observed: “The first principle is that you must not fool yourself — and [that] you are the easiest person to fool.” It seems extraordinary – but it is all too easy to mislead ourselves.
We’re living in the post-truth era, where thoughtful reflection, tolerance and civility are so often side-lined by knee-jerk ‘boo-hooray’ rhetoric and cancel culture; where truth – shaped by algorithms – reverberates in the echo chamber of our personal timelines. It has never been more important to think for ourselves; to be honest with ourselves. “If right within”.
You are in a wonderful position to go out there, in the wide open air, and make good things happen.
Not by accident, then, do we place kindness at the heart of the Salopian Way. Our Six Virtues, which we hope you embody and enact in life, promote the survival of the kindest. Ways of gentleness. Paths of peace.
Finally: weather is the accompaniment to life’s journey. Maya Angelou exhorts us always to put a rainbow in someone else’s cloud. Because kindness changes other people’s weather.
Better than advice, I offer a time-weathered wish, a blessing resonant with hope for your journey:
‘May the road rise to meet you;
may the wind be ever at your back;
may the sun shine warm upon your face;
and the rain fall soft upon your fields.’
These are moving words. Yet, we know, of course, that the road will not always rise to meet us. Sometimes it will be bumpy, rough or unmarked. The wind will as likely blow full in the face. The sun will often disappear behind clouds. The rain will sometimes fall in wasteful torrents or fail to appear when we need it most. As with Odysseus, this blessing addresses the truth that we can decide, even in adversity, how we see the journey ahead of us. Whilst we cannot make the weather, we can choose the clothes we wear.
So, as you set out for your Ithakas, for the places you’ll go, I hope that you clothe yourselves with eulogy virtues – wisdom, courage, kindness. Love. Keep a faithful heart and your thoughts raised high.
I wish you good friends to share your marvellous journey; wisdom to find your purpose; resilience to deal with the wrong turns; love and hope to fuel the journey; and kindness to extend to all those you meet along the way.
And until we meet again, may God hold you ever in the palm of his hand.
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Words shared with our 175 Upper Sixth Leavers – and their parents – as they became Old Salopians on 2 July 2022.
My father once told me the story of the baby camel who kept asking its mother questions.
“Mummy, why do we have these wide, spongey feet?” – Well, dear, it’s so that we can walk over sand dunes without sinking. “And what about these extra-long eye-lashes?” – Those are to protect your eyes during sand storms. “Ah. And why do we have these huge fat lumps on our backs?” – Those are humps, dear. They store energy for extended journeys across the desert.
“Oh. Right….”
“Mummy – what are we doing here in Chester Zoo?”
Zoos are places of containment. Schools are, ultimately, all about escape.
During their time with us, whether it has been a 2, 4 or 5 year stay, I hope that we have enhanced your children’s natural talents and added new passions and experiences. And that they are prepared for life; equipped with the skills and aptitudes – the spongey feet and absorbent humps – with which to cross through life’s undulations. I hope that they will travel the sands of time with inner confidence and a steady set of values. I hope that they seek out oases. And create them for others.
In recent times, we have all felt the confinement of life during a pandemic. The defensive bars of separation have caused isolation. Motivated by a desire to protect, control measures have brought limitations and caused inevitable frustrations. The national policy on isolating children who are close contacts has become monstrously disproportionate. This must surely change.
No community is immune to the insidious impacts of the pandemic. Parents and educators alike worry about the impact of these times on the health and well-being of the young. However, despite – and in some cases because of it all, we applaud the adaptability, the resilience, the sheer luminous brilliance of the young in our school – this year group in particular. This is cause for celebration, hope and expectation.
A full boarding school community is a magnificently intricate, complex and dynamic ecosystem of which to be a part – whether as a pupil or a member of staff. Each individual is important. Each person’s character and behaviour alters and affects the equipoise and flourishing of the whole.
Shrewsbury strives to be an accepting community that embraces individuals on the basis of who they are. All communities need to do more on issues of equality, diversity and inclusion. We have work ahead on this, but I do like to believe that the natural state of Salopia is one of symbiotic co-operation and the celebration of difference.
Although we have been sometimes apart, sometimes at a distance, shared adversity has brought schools, parents and pupils closer together. Recent times have seen artificial constraints and barriers introduced into the system. The very notion of a remote boarding community is oxymoronic: a contradiction in terms. And yet we made it happen together.
When we resumed on-site learning, we embraced creatively and inventively the systems of control that put distances between year groups, houses, pupils and staff. The Salopian spirit filled the gaps. We found a way to connect and make things happen as fully as possible.
The experience of living with COVID has triggered and accelerated positive adaptations and evolutionary step changes. Much more inventive use of technology in teaching and learning, for example. We have also embraced the brave new world of virtual parent consultations. The challenge of balancing cups of tea and maintaining a polite smile whilst trying to keep a place in a queue have been replaced by privacy and the focusing effect of a countdown timer. Virtualisation has been an enlivening challenge for us all.
Despite the significant gains made, concerns over excessive screen-time, and the darker influences of the digital multiverse, have underlined all the more sharply, the deep value and purpose of whole person communal education.
Education is not a transaction; whole person education cannot be done through a screen. The education that you parents chose – this distinctive Shrewsbury education – relies on a community of individuals who share a common spirit. Our kind of education is about co-travelling; shared experience; wide opportunities; inspiration and challenge. It is about serious fun.
A school is a learning community. What have our leavers learned, I wonder? And what have we learned from them?
I hope that we learn, every day, to delight in the uniqueness of each human being. Whilst we live in times of control and civic responsibility, the human spirit leaps up and refuses to be reduced. I hope that our leavers embody the virtues of practical wisdom; courage and kindness. These things are not learned; they are absorbed gradually over time spent on the Salopian Way.
What do I hope for, when I look out at our Upper Sixth? In times when people are quick to outrage, I hope for tolerance and understanding. In times when Government appears to set education policy in an echo chamber, I hope for respectful dialogue across all the professions.
In times that have never been more complicated for our children to grow up, I hope for kindness and places of safety. In times when change is needed, I hope for the righteous indignation and moral purpose of the next generation. In times of isolation and growing nationalism, I hope for a global mindset. Across society, we see evidence of a crisis of identity. We need people who can connect and join; rather that divide and separate. We need people who try to find solutions to local, national and international problems. People with giant ventures in mind.
In times when the waves of a pandemic sweep across the world; I hope that the waves of fellowship follow.
The former Governor of the Bank of England, Mark Carney, suggested that times of crisis identify the hoarders and the sharers. We need to be amongst the sharers. And as we come out of the pandemic and learn to live responsibly with COVID, we have a chance to treasure, enhance and deepen the way we use our returning freedoms.
Our leavers are on the cusp of new adventures. Of course, we will them brilliant futures. When the animals escape from the zoo we want them to be dispersing widely, into new habitats that challenge and inspire them.
So, where are they headed? The Upper Sixth have firm offers to go to 51 different universities worldwide. Three quarters of those offers are at Russell Group universities. All being well, 38 Salopians – that’s a fifth of the year group – will head to one of the World Tops 20 universities in the Autumn. Just over a quarter will be taking a Gap Year, a significant and understandable increase. International destinations are, expectedly, a little down this year but pupils hold offers from University of California (San Diego), Georgia Institute of Technology, Tilburg University in the Netherlands, City University of HK and Florence, Italy.
Salopians will go on to study courses- in order of frequency – in Business; medicine and medical-related courses; Politics and International Relations; History, Geography, Sport, English, Economics, Philosophy (all 7). Four will be studying Architecture; and others hope to study Fashion Journalism and Content Creation; Infection and Immunity; Psychology; Renewable Energy Engineering and Climate Science. Our leavers have offers at the Royal College of Music; scholarships to the Guildhall School of Music; places at the Guildford School of Acting. Four students off to do an Art Foundation Course. One is off to do an Army Gap Year; one to professional sport. What a diversity of destinations!
Incidentally, we were delighted to hear on Thursday that our careers advice and guidance programme – which we call Futures – led superbly Mr Wain and Mr Percival – has been shortlisted for a national Independent school award for best Student Careers. This follows on from being named Independent School of the Year for 2020 and Best Community Outreach programme 2020.
We’re proud of this collective recognition and thank all pupils, teaching and support staff, parents and governors for combining to create an award-winning community.
Today, is the point of departure – a kind of escape. As they depart the friendly confines of Shrewsbury, we celebrate our leavers’ resilience, and brilliance, in times of transilience. (I confess I had to look up the third word in that rhyming trio – transilience means ‘abrupt change or variation‘, apparently. We’ve certainly had plenty of that of late.
For our Upper Sixth leavers – the camels of 2021 with their magnificent spongey feet, their luxurious eye-lashes and their well-stocked humps – this is the day when the gates of the zoo are flung wide open.
Welcome to the world, new-born thing. I hope you find your feet quickly. And I have some other hopes for you too.
Your older sister, 2019, was a fiery one. Capable of so much good, but full of contradictions and often quite disagreeable. That’s teenagers, I suppose. Mind you, she was nowhere near as confounding and unpredictable as her older brother 2016. You never knew what was coming next with him. I wonder how he looks now, four years on.
Anyway, after 25 years of teaching, and 16 years as a parent, I know not to judge one sibling by another. Each child is wonderfully, bracingly different; unique individuals with promise and potential; needs and demands; fears, expectations and hopes.
The poet Philip Larkin wrote a poem to the newly born daughter of his friend, Kingsley Amis. He wishes her something “none of the others would”. Instead of wishing her beauty, talent and love, he says: “May you be ordinary […] In fact, may you be dull.
Well, 2020. You are 9 days old as I write this and there is no danger of you being dull. At least, that’s what the news suggests. Of course, there’s lots about you that will be mundane, ordinary. And, indeed, good. Particularly when lived and viewed from this safe corner of the world in Shrewsbury.
My hope for you is like that of Larkin. You’ll have your moments, for sure, and as with all your family, there will be sadness, despair, loneliness – horror even, sad to say. But… I hope that the weight and volume of all the unseen good, and the plain day-to-day ordinary that you think and do, all this stuff will be the thing that truly defines you. I hope you are fair: or at least, fairer than your forebears – gradually but meaningfully fairer. And kinder too.
There are lots of other things I hope for you, new-born thing. But Larkin’s odd and surprising incantation says it so much better. He wishes balance and ordinariness. A life more ordinary: “If that is what a skilled, / Vigilant, flexible, / Unemphasised, enthralled / Catching of happiness is called”.
May you be dull, 2020. May you catch more happiness.
Leo Winkley: Letters From Shrewsbury 