64 years on, it's marvellous to see education being taken forward - what a privilege for students

When four octogenarians descended on Brentwood School in September, they did so with two currents of thought. One was nostalgic about life at an institution they had experienced a very long time ago. The other was an expectation of being awed by the buildings and facilities and the information they would be given about the 2025 establishment. At the outset, they were looking for contrasts. It soon became apparent that the scale of development in recent times rendered comparisons with the past largely illusory.

John Kilmartin and Martin Rowland began their Brentwood careers in the Prep in 1951. Michael Thomas and Chris Littmoden entered the Senior School in 1954 and 1955 respectively. Kilmartin and Littmoden had boarded in Mill Hill and School House respectively. Day boys Thomas and Rowland had been in West. Their fellowship had been fostered particularly by School and House football, sharpened by their membership of the Modern Sixth from 1959 to 1961 and continued ever since via informal social contact and Old Brentwoods activities. It was the first time in 64 years that the four had been together at Brentwood.

The School they entered had much more in common with Victorian and Edwardian public schools than its 21st century successor. The approach to discipline was essentially nineteenth century. The country was still recovering from the economic and social impact of the Second World War. Many of the masters – nearly all men and rarely referred to as teachers — had served and evenness of temper was not always to the fore among them. Books were often physically patched up and much classroom furniture was worn out. Sports changing facilities were characterised by the smell of stale sweat. With warm water intermittent, you could not always get the mud off. However, restricted to two baths a week, boarders needed the changing room water.

Housed in the Powley’s

In their day, the passage between the Shenfield Road and Priest’s Lane, known as the Chase, was completely clear. The most notable building, half way along, was the (then) new cricket pavilion, its predecessor having been destroyed by the Luftwaffe. Directly opposite were the Powley’s buildings. These supposedly temporary structures, reminiscent of airfields and military camps, comprised four classrooms, one of them occupied by the Modern Sixth scholars of 1959-61. They were named after the 18th century master John Powley. It is difficult to know why unless that gentleman conducted his teaching in a similarly spartan environment.

Around 20 scholars imbibed physical geography from Dennis Tarrant, economic geography from Mr. Corfield, modern history from Joe Hodgson and economic history from Jim Rennie. The latter epitomised the Edwardian, scarcely modified by wartime service in the RAF in Gaza. He referred to Catholic pupils as ‘Papists,’ insisted that the inattentive take snuff and attached less than complimentary literary quotes to particular class members. Entering the room one afternoon, he reflected on a controversy then raging in the press about the proposed abolition of capital punishment. Casting the widest of baleful glances, he mused: “When I look at you birds, there’s a job for the hangman yet.” His audience loved it.

While the Powley’s are long gone,the four were unsure exactly where they had stood. The consensus was on the site of the Cunliffe building. The ghosts of anabatic and katabatic winds and the commercial significance of Mr. Hargreaves’ spinning jenny had long been superseded by the Classics and Learning Support departments, the sanatorium and the Information Technology Support Service. The term ‘Information Technology’ had not even been coined in the Powley years.

Memorial memories and mirth

In the Memorial Hall, Spud Barron’s many years of Shakespeare productions were touched on, surprising perhaps as all four had avoided any participation therein. Littmoden cast a wary eye at the portrait of former Headmaster Charles Allison, a man with the calm air of a remote Patrician. Thomas recalled that Chas had convened some sort of careers gathering for sixth formers. Pharmacy was suggested as a possible option, perhaps for the Medical Sixth. The good man asked if there was anyone in his audience whose father was a pharmacist. “Yes, sir,” piped up Master X. “He keeps pigs.” Given widespread appreciation of Master X’s limitations, his statement did not surprise but the sniggers and guffaws were merciless.

The chapel had not changed, except for the big screen. Littmoden noted that his sixth form School House study was now part of the Headmaster’s study. Perhaps the empty beer cans stuffed behind a partition wall had been exposed during the transition.

The visitors saw or were told about the 400-seat Wessex Auditorium, the Hardy Amies Centre, the Bean Academic Centre and the cavernous sports hall. A rapid fire summary ecompassed design technology, art, computer science, food and nutrition, recording, dance and music suites (all the pianos are Steinways); a 25-metre pool, a fencing salle, glass-backed squash courts and quite a bit more. The ‘Bean’ hummed via a formidable array of computers. The Upper Bean was largely as it had been back then. Voices dropped to whispers, possibly because of an ineradicable Pavlovian fear of being punished for talking.

They were more comfortable in the museum, named after long serving teacher the late Mike Willis. Set in an old stable block attached to the former Newnum House, it was replete with uniforms, regalia, documents and photographs. Cue ”that was me!” and “whatever happened to him.”

Yet there were some comparisons for elderly minds to alight upon. From Year 7, students (1950s second-formers) are equipped with i pads - quite an improvement on nibs and inkwells with the ink sometimes gracing the sleeves of the old ‘school suit.’

Oh dear, the food

The best that could be said of the food in our time was that quantity was usually adequate; the worst, that quality ranged from dubious to awful. Potatoes and cabbage were typically grey with black spots. The assumption that the mince came from donkey hooves was very probably incorrect but was popularly trumpeted by those faced with its consumption. Tapioca pudding was reviled and the scientifically-
minded pondered why the rice pudding came in blocks. Choice was not an option. Nor was it in Barnard’s. ‘Take it or leave it’ was not even on offer. Littmoden recalled with a shudder: “Rennie forced us to eat whateve rwas served up, whether we wanted to or not.”

Today, choice pervades a University-style refectory: hot and cold, meats, pasta, salads and indulgent desserts (at least for Headmaster Michael Bond when he joined his visitors for lunch). No doubt some students would still find something to grumble about but few contemporary imaginations could encompass the fare of the fifties. At least the locations were common: the Edinburgh and Weald Halls were in full use.

There are far more sixth form study options than before. Between them, the four could only think of 15 Advanced level subjects. Today, there are many more available under the BTEC and International Baccalaureate mantles. Further, students can cut across the disciplines, studying both science and arts subjects. In the fifties, it was typically maths, physics and chemistry OR English, French and History. There was no overlap.

Careers advice had clearly moved on. Mr. Nicholls, former careers master---‘Daminic’ to pupils—focussed largely on 40-year careers---or sentences - in accountancy, the law, surveying, the forces, the Civil service and so on. In contrast, Michael Bond wrote recently: “to prepare our students for a fast-paced and ever changing world, we equip them to solve current and unforeseen problems. Many will take on jobs which do not yet exist.” This would have been inconceivable to Daminic.

Palace and privilege

Asked by Director of Development Sam Mason to comment on video about their visit, the four did indeed express awe at what they had seen and heard, with a dash of politicians’ platitudes perhaps inevitable.

Martin Rowland: “It has amazed us that the place we knew has changed out of all recognition It’s marvellous that our old school has become a prime example of educators taking education forward.”

Chris Littmoden: “The challenge now is to keep that development going, building on what is already here. The new boarding block is like a palace compared to the places we used to live in - six or seven to a dormitory. (Veterans of School House, Mill Hill, Newnum, Otway, Barnard’s and Old House would surely concur). But that was then. If development continues, it will be absolutely wonderful for our school.”

John Kilmartin: “It has certainly been a trip down memory lane. All those years ago, we had such joyous times in many respects. Now, there are considerably more pupils, enjoying so much more than we could ever have imagined. It was a privilege to be here then and a privilege to be here now.”

Michael Thomas took up the point about privilege in the wider context of education in the UK. Given the exceptional facilities and range of academic, arts and sports pursuits available, “every pupil who comes here is extremely privileged.”