“Sir, why on earth do we have to learn about this?” Then can surely be few teachers who do not dread this question and few students who do not delight in it. A skilled teacher may take the intended distraction and deftly turn it into a reminder about the way in which an in-depth knowledge of Andalusian sheep farming is excellent preparation for a wider conceptual understanding of agricultural diversification. At heart though, we know that the question undermines our very existence. Are they really going to need to know this? How much of what you learned at school do you use in your everyday employment? Think hard before you answer though. Let me ask the question another way: How much were you changed during your years here? How would the 13-year-old you have fared in the life you led at 18? If your school experience had been skipped, what would your life be like now?
Educationalists often talk about ‘learning to learn’ as justification for what we do. To me, this sounds like a tradesman filling his toolbox. Mind Maps? Check. Note taking? Check. Rote-learning? In the bag. Exam technique? Sorted. Let’s get a bit more up-to-date and talk about what QCA would call ‘Key skills’: Group work? Mastered. Interpreting data? Done. ICT? Fluent - (at least until next year’s technology arrives).
These are useful and important skills and with projects such as Sherborne’s “Learning Development Programme” and the new “Student Voice,” teachers here are taking opportunities to become more skilled and creative in developing them and other more subtle qualities. Despite all this, I think we have to look harder to get to the heart of learning at Sherborne.
For me, real learning is rooted in relationships. My love of music was inspired by Mr D whose every breath showed his passion for the subject. In gathering evidence and presenting a case for change, I’m grateful to Mr B who never let us get away with woolly arguments or unsubstantiated claims. Mrs H taught me that getting the detail right was important, Mr P that when it’s really very difficult, finding the eventual solution is that much sweeter. From Mr S, I learned that brilliant work which is poorly presented is often undervalued. Mr L knew me well enough to ask just the right series of questions to develop a new understanding. All these things and more formed the bedrock of my subsequent academic study and later learning.
What these relationships do, particularly between students and teacher, is inculcate a sense of value, of what is worthwhile and what is mere sparkle. I am heartened that at Sherborne, despite many of my colleagues being A Level examiners and experts on the syllabus, we very rarely hear the question “Is this going to be on the exam?” Through the intensity and variety of ‘full-on’ boarding school life, all Shirburnians know that learning is wider than this. Our system of one-to-one tutorials allows boys to explore, with adult guidance, what is of value to them. The extraordinary achievements which you read about in this magazine, in our newsletter or on the website tell the story that our Poets and Philosophers, Musicians and Mathematicians, Artists, Scientists, Debaters and Designers all flourish because they have found something to value and are prepared to work for it.
As Old Shirburnians you too have a role in bringing inspiration and with it, aspiration. The endeavours of Old Shirburnians form a tapestry of professions and service which covers the globe. There have been very few weeks when I have not heard a colleague tell a boy about the exploits and successes of one OS or another. This is neither bragging nor mere nostalgia; the boys undoubtedly feel a connection to those who have gone before them and, as they get older, become conscious of the example they leave for others to follow. I suspect I recently broke the bounds of the Data Protection Act by reading to one group of boys the Third Form school reports of some of our more famous and feted alumni. “Satisfactory, if rather untidy,” “Needs to master the basics,” “Rather too easily distracted”; these surely bring hope to even the least confident boy. By the time they reached the Sixth Form, the reports had changed: “Determination showing through,” “Dedicated to his music,” “Wins respect by brains and character”. Perhaps that sheep-farming was not so useless after all.
Ralph Barlow
December 2014