3 minute read
Head of School’s statement
Head of School
Ever since joining the school, I could think of nothing better than leaving it. No more homework, no more early alarms, and no more God forsaken end-of-year exams. It was my ticket to freedom, to happiness, and to living life on ‘my own damn terms’. Yet, when the day finally arrived to leave the College doors one last time as a student, I found them a little harder to push open. Although my ‘ticket’ was punched, my ‘destination’ of supposed freedom and happiness were waiting for me, and my ‘train’ (likely delayed) was now running on tracks wrought around my own terms, I could not help but feel a sense of loss. In an ironic twist of events, by fulfilling my biggest dream, I was actually leaving behind the place I had come to see as my second home.
Evidently, St Dunstan’s College has grown to mean a lot more to me as I look back. In many ways, a ‘second home’ is quite an apt and fitting label. The small class sizes, cross-year integration and the importance placed on wellbeing has helped foster an unmatched family atmosphere. Classrooms have come to act as quasi-living rooms, the refectory a kitchen filled with all the smells of familiar cooking, and even the detention rooms signal an immediate parallel to being kept on the ‘naughtystep’. Teachers walk about in loco parentis and Assembly, with faces of both the older and younger generations, can sometimes feel more akin to that dreaded family reunion. But nevertheless, the warm feeling of home, and of belonging, continuously prevails. In an almost magical way, this Victorian and surprisingly orange building has a unique gift: it routinely brings in the most diverse selection of students, all from different backgrounds, and from it creates a distinct community of unity. When we progressed to Sixth Form, this tangible sense of community was only further emphasised. No longer sat at the kids’ table, we now had responsibilities. From creating and running societies, to ensuring the representation of the student voice in College Parliament, arriving in Sixth Form gave us the chance to shape and mould the direction of the College we had spent the last few years growing up in. A stationary cupboard in the Common Room? Organised. A more comprehensive sexual education for the Stuart Programme? Arranged. More recycling bins in the classrooms? Placed. Removing raisins from the refectory cookies? Still controversial. And much like growing into an adult in a family, along with an increase in age came an increase in independence. Free periods enabled us to explore and navigate subjects at our own leisure, with this newfound freedom enabling students to come to view their disciplines as intrinsic parts of their identities; passions to kindle rather than solely prerequisites to work and employment. The near one-to-one teaching support at A Level also helped us to build up rapports with our teachers that, by the end of the year, had a closer resemblance to genuine friendships rather than the expected ‘professionalworking’ one. But like any home, being able to move out would always be a daunting, but necessary prospect. I’m sure come September, when for the first time I won’t have my almost ritual last-minute rush in making sure I still know where all my uniform, folders, and textbooks are, a tinge of disbelief, gratitude and homesickness are sure to balance out my excitement for the future. Yet, I know that I, and those around me, graduate from this College stronger and more resilient than when we first entered. Indeed, in our world of unpredictability, we can be rest assured that we leave as confident, enlightened Dunstonian men and women of the modern world, ready to grapple with any challenges that may come our way. What more could you ask for?
