SUMMER TIME BLUES – THE HEADMASTER’S NINTH BLOG

We think a certain Bromsgrove 1^st XI player has just made the most runs ever in a season and, with a double century, accumulated the biggest single score in Bromsgrove history. When I speak of this remarkable feat, I am minded of my own sporting greatness, not least when my mother told me to look out for my little sister on the occasion my Primary School took us to the local swimming baths. Keen to impress my tiny sibling, I demonstrated the art of the shallow dive. Having been forced to witness the demonstration, my sister took time to watch the small pool of blood form on the surface of the water before nonchalantly informing the teachers that her brother was still underwater and less visibly active that one might have hoped. I was rescued by a fully clothed life guard, and rushed to a major Liverpool hospital at where my head was stitched back together.

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You might be wondering why I haven’t mentioned the diet for a while.

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Quantum physicists tell us that electrons can be in two places at the same time. I’m not sure what the fuss is about because a decent sprinter on an old-style whole School photograph could pull off the same stunt. However, the quantum physicists seem pretty smug about it, but - if we’re so clever - can any smarty pants tell me why, after a twentieth birthday, one’s shirt remains forever tucked in, whereas until that joyous occasion it can escape the confines of outer garments as if possessed by the spirit of Houdini?

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You will be expecting me to say something about strikes and pensions.

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This is my last blog for a couple of months, and while I’d love to tell you I can barely type for tears, the fact is I’m about to defrost the sausages and crack open a celebratory Tia Maria. When I was little, I read a magazine called 21^st Century that predicted mankind’s future. In it, jet liners were as large as ocean going ships and flew at five times the speed of sound. Space had been conquered and we had colonies on distant planets. In a state of perpetual peace we lived in mile high cities (unless invaded by unpleasant aliens whom we invariably saw off with aplomb). So when somebody tells me that blogging or twittering is “like amazing”, I can’t help but think of a certain emperor and his clothes. Anyway, I’ll be back in September, and I’ll do as I’m told. But deep, deep down it will always be “Space Cadet Edwards reporting for duty, sir.”

Have a wonderful summer.

BY GOVE, SIR! - THE HEADMASTER’S EIGHTH BLOG

So, just as Britain’s A level students are in the midst of the most important examinations of their lives, Michael Gove says (in language statelier than mine) that the GCSE and A level exam system is about as useful as a chocolate frying pan. Nice timing, boss. For a well intended man with some deeply sensible ideas, our Secretary of State for Education needs to remember that our pupils can only do the examinations adults put in front of them. Telling those pupils while they are in the middle of the examinations that it’s one big dumbed down mess is about as motivational as Vlad the Impaler delivering Thought for the Day.

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While we’re on exams ...  a Senior pupil guide was taking some Year 8s on a tour of the Senior School last week. He said to them that there’s a rumour the Head is going to abolish A level and make everybody do IB. See a previous blog to understand why, were he old enough, this fine young man would receive a bottle of champers. (And see the link on our website’s homepage – next to my mug shot - for what the Head actually thinks).

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I should be a politician. Here’s the education debate in a nutshell:

·         Twenty years ago: Terminally examined GCSE and A level is too hard. Life isn’t about examinations or learning your history chronologically. Lots more soft subjects, coursework, modules and retakes please. Everyone’s a winner. What’s that? You want a university place with three E grades? You betcha. Celebrity Studies anyone? (Cue dodgy MOR classic “Everybody Is Beautiful In Their Own Way.”)

·         Ten Years ago: Aarrgh! What have we done? It’s all too easy. Millions of A grades in Music Tech and Psychology. Parents and teachers doing the coursework for the children. Thousands of schools pushing soft subjects so they look good in league tables. Nation of idiots. Help! What can we do?

·         2011: Phew. Terminally examined GCSE and A level are just brilliant. Now we’re talking. Maths, Languages, proper British History, no modules, no retakes. Is this cool or what? Look out China!

·         2020 AD ..... Aarrgh! What have we done? It’s all too hard. Life isn’t about examinations or ....

And this will stop when the sheet ice returns and homo sapiens hands the planet over to the roaches.

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Two of our Sixth Form Physics students have been published. One is holding a Cambridge offer and the other is off to study Mechanical Engineering. I called them in to offer congratulations and cheerily asked them to explain to me what their article was about.

Won’t be doing that again.

LIFE ON THE OCEAN WAVE - THE HEADMASTER’S SEVENTH BLOG

Just as Toad wanted a motor car, so I’ve decided I should be living on a houseboat in Chelsea. I was in London over half term for a meeting of an editorial board, and afterwards, I strolled a section of the Thames Path. And suddenly there they were:  all the fabulous Bohemians sunning themselves on their houseboats while everybody else huffed and puffed their lives away. I was smitten. Anyway, I will be speaking to the Chairman to see if he is happy to fund my early retirement. If I don’t turn up at Commem, you’ll know where to find me .....“Sweet Thames, run softly ‘till I end my song.”

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Pity the small group of Senior boys who, having finished a public examination, decided to sneak onto the Prep School playing fields for a kick about with a football away from the prying eyes of teachers. Sadly, they timed their illegal fun for precisely the same moment I was holding a meeting with the scary ladies in my house (which backs onto the Prep School). Out charged one of the ladies. Seldom have I seen such an exquisite blend of terror and bewilderment on the faces of the young.

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Together with some business and local government leaders, I had the opportunity to debate a few key issues of the day with four MPs last Friday. I was reminded that for every arrogant crook in the Lords or Commons, there are numerous hard working, honest, intelligent people doing their level best to make our lives better.

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I thought the Prep Sports Days were a joy. Well done to everybody involved and thank you parents for the wonderful support. I have long known there are certain events I would lose if pitted against a top Year 7 or 8 pupil, but this year I felt bound to question whether I could hold my own against the best Year 3s. We would appear to be raising a species of superhumans.  Tiny people went flashing past faster than Ferraris, and somebody threw a cricket ball further than I can walk.

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There are nine governors’ subcommittees which meet every term, so if you throw in the full board meetings as well you end up with thirty governor’s meetings of some sort or other that take place over the course of a year. Last week the Finance and Property Committee (FPC) met.  Not so long ago, any combination of the words Finance, Property and Committee  would have compelled me to make a daisy chain, put it in my hair, sit in a wood and strum Syd Barrett songs. However, the time and expertise given freely to this School by governors is humbling, and at FPC especially it is a privilege to have input from people who help ensure this School, for all its flair and fizz, is founded upon a bedrock of prudence. I’m not going to kid you and say I could almost become an accountant, but I am intensely aware of and grateful for the wisdom and energy of others as they help take this School to greater and greater heights.

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I saw Eric Clapton and Steve Winwood over half term. In the Royal Albert Hall. Decades ago, when Clapton first started playing, people got the blues if:

 a) their woman had done gone left them

 b) it wasn’t for bad luck they’d have no luck at all

c) they were born under a bad sign

However, looking at the Albert Hall audience it occurred to me that the closest to the blues Eric’s current followers are likely to experience is having to settle for tiger prawns because the monkfish was off.