There is a heartbeat to every school. In some schools, like WC, you can hear it booming across the whenua, across Aotearoa, across the world; it’s strong.

It’s fuelled by legacy, by having great parents, a fabulous community of old boys, staff, coaches and Board members, and it’s driven by our brilliant boys. Our heartbeat, our pulse, is powerful and strong.

However, in some schools it’s faint, it’s almost imperceptible. I have supported schools like that, and their leaders, in finding the pulse of the community and strengthening the heartbeat. It all starts with the adults and why we, as adults, are in this place. What’s our purpose? What is our mission? Why do we exist?

I took over a school in London that was badly failing. It was placed in ‘Special Measures’ just before I arrived. The staff were good people doing all they could but didn't feel valued or loved, so the kids didn’t feel valued or loved. It was a vicious cycle. I organised for students that were brave enough to tell the staff how they felt about school and what their lives were like out of school. We needed to hear it from our kids.

One student, who was in Year 11, had four younger siblings and she had to get them up in the morning, dress the younger ones, give them breakfast and make lunch for them. She took them to school, which made her late for school every day. She got told off every day and had detentions most days, because of her lateness. She skipped many of these detentions, as she had to get to the primary school and children’s centre to pick her siblings up. Her Mum was doing her best but struggling with her own mental health issues and addictions. This meant that many nights this student had to collect her Mum, put her to bed and leave her breakfast in the morning, which often went uneaten. She helped her siblings with homework, read them stories and put them to bed at night. She would then put the washing on, do the dishes, do her own homework and get ready for the next day. Most nights she tried to aim to be in bed by midnight. It depended on how much washing and tidying she had to do, and sometimes she had to stay up to make sure her Mum got home safe. She attended parents’ evenings at the primary school and went to the primary school plays when her siblings were in them.

No one knew any of this until she told us. She did not cry when she told us, she did not weep, her voice did not break, she did not feel sorry for herself. She sat upright in her chair and had her head up. Despite most of the staff being in floods of tears, I said to her, "What can we do and how can we support you." 'She turned to the staff and said, “It’s alright, please don’t cry. I know you want the best for me. I know I am always late and I don’t go to detention. I know you think I don’t care and I’m not listening to you. I am listening. I want to learn, I have to learn so that I can get a good job and help my family. I have to keep my family together. It’s not that I don’t care or respect you. I do. I really do, but I have to be responsible for my family."

Louise, my deputy, said, "Is there something that we can practically do to help you? We can sort out food, clothing, we can work with the primary school and make sure you all get breakfast. We can help Mum. Or is there something that you need? Just for you?"

She looked at the staff and said, "I know you are angry with me. I know you have to shout at me and tell me off. But if you could just look happy to see me. Before you tell me off, if you could smile and look happy to see me that would help me a lot."

She smiled at us all, thanked us and went home. Head high and her stride full of purpose.

We were able to reach into the family and help Mum with her addiction, get the family into better housing and access support for all five children.

As a staff we sat there for just over three hours after she spoke, re-imagining how we need to be, how we must be for our kids. What is our best selves that we can bring? I told them about my 7th form teacher Mrs Goddard who told me, "Humanity is at its best when compassion replaces anger."

The staff decided that that after every briefing, whoever took the briefing would end it with, "let’s be the very best humans today!" The school was rated ‘Outstanding’ by Ofsted three years later and became a beacon school.

I’ll never forget the moment that our journey to becoming one of the very best schools in the UK, was started and inspired by a 15 year old girl who was keeping her family together. On that day, she kept another family together and restarted our heartbeat.

I am so proud to tell you that she is now a fabulous teacher in her seventh year of teaching and last year was appointed as an Assistant Principal of her school.

Compassion over anger, empathy over judgement and listening over talking. I am by no means perfect, I think I will be unfinished until the day I die. I think being unfinished and still working on our best selves, our best human, is a good way to be.

Receive the light and pass it on


Glen Denham
Headmaster