I was at Barrow Hills from 1975 to 1981, and Father Dominic was the Headmaster during this time.
After Barrow Hills, I wanted to go to St George’s, but my mother and father did not want to repeat the experience of my sisters who had both gone to St Maur’s and so all their friends were in the Weybridge area. So instead, they sent me to a school in Frensham, near Farnham, called Pierrepont (was Pierrepoint House School). It was dreadful.
My first experience of Barrow Hills was a visit my mother and I made in the summer of 1975. My mother was inside talking to Father Dominic and looked out the window to see me jumping up and down on the roof of the car. Father Dominic made me stand outside the clock (outside his office) and delighted in telling my mother that I was the first child who wasn’t a boy at the school who had been punished in this way. He scared the living daylights out of me – he was at least 10 foot tall!
I only ever boarded when my parents went on a romantic two-week holiday to Rome. My sisters were placed with friends of the family, however, no one wanted me. I was the sort of kid who jumped on the top of car roofs! I remember receiving comics from my grandma rolled up into tubes and covered in stamps. I remember being very scared to be away from home. I was delighted when my parents finally returned.
I loved almost everything about Barrow Hills. I loved PE. I wasn’t necessarily any good, but I loved the competitive nature of it. I love the summer barbecues, I loved the swimming pool, I loved to perform at concerts, and I loved those afternoons in Godalming. Most of all, I loved it if I got a mention in the Barrow Hills journal.
On Fridays, I dreaded the card system. I dreaded when they were delivered and you found out your colour, and therefore whether the weekend was going to be good or bad. I particularly remember one boy in my class who consistently got terrible card colours and therefore the cane, every week, because SEN didn’t exist in those days and there seemed to be a distinct lack of compassion.
Barrow Hills taught me to love education. I will always fondly remember English and History lessons with Mr Ashcroft, who used to tell stories of his life all the time to entertain us, and we were royally entertained. I will always remember one particular story about a silent parrot who seemingly was bombed out of a neighbour’s house during the Blitz so that all his feathers were blown off and when Mr. Ashcroft returned home, he was heard to be swearing loudly at his bad luck!
Perhaps inspired by Mr Ashcroft, I became a teacher and have been one for 30 years now. Like him, I have become notorious in my use of anecdotes and sometimes seem to be spending more time telling these than actually teaching! After a life in private education, I decided to teach in the state sector and have always found myself in difficult schools teaching children who will never have the life chances I have had, endeavouring to improve their opportunities. I love the fact that so many of the students I taught went on to study English at university, and many of these were the first members of their family ever to go beyond the Sixth Form college level.
I will always be grateful for the grounding I received at Barrow Hills. It has held me in great stead. I always look back on my time there with great affection and wonder what happened to the boys I studied with. Some of whom I have been in touch with over the years thanks to Facebook, but many of which I have no idea what became of them. I hope they’ve had good lives, worthy lives, and lives full of fulfilment.