Assistant Head, Andrew Curtis, On The Role Models We Encounter In Our Everyday Lives
June 7, 2024
On Friday 7 June Assistant Head, Andrew Curtis, addressed Norwich School pupils on the importance of role models in our lives and to make the most of the opportunities presented to us.
"Do you ever read biographies, or watch biopics? Are you interested in the experiences and achievements of other people? Whilst it’s not always healthy to compare ourselves to others, it’s easily done. I often reflect, for example, on how much more dapper Mr Cawkwell is than I am, with his range of quality jackets and fetching trousers; he’s something of a style icon. Or take Mr Murray with his forensic memory; discuss a sports match with him, and he will have remembered every detail and then be able to recount it flawlessly, taking care to point out, (at least when I was refereeing), exactly what had been missed. Don’t ever think you can beat Mrs Curtis to reading the latest novel, as she almost certainly will have already done so, on her state-of-the-art Kindle, and be able to critique it for you, which makes my pile of unread books on the floor feel all the more tragic. Then there’s Dr Farr, the History wizard. Leading the academic side of the school doesn’t stop him publishing historical research at regular intervals, about which one of last year’s particularly precocious U6 History pupils liked to remind me; conversations ran thus: ‘Have you published any history books sir?’ he said; no I haven’t’ I said; ‘Dr Farr has published loads’ he said. ‘I know.’ I said. ‘but you haven’t’ he said. ‘No I haven’t’. I said. ‘Oh. Dr Cornell’s published research too’…and so it went on.
But I’m making the mistake of comparing myself to others; much better to view other people as positive role models, then they can inspire and encourage. Observing the way people lead their lives can be interesting, informative, even transformational. Let me provide some examples.
David Taylor is one of Norwich School’s most illustrious alumni. He is an author, literary critic, and official biographer of George Orwell. He was awarded the Whitbread Prize for his 2003 biography ‘Orwell: A Life’, a work of amazing scope and depth. What’s more extraordinary is that last year, twenty years later, he published another: not an updated edition, but a completely fresh biography. I was privileged to attend its Norfolk launch at which Taylor was asked the inevitable question, why write another? The reply was revealing about this ON’s lifelong love of learning. He said that he loved writing about Orwell, and that new material had become available; but he also put forward the idea that any biography is but a snapshot of a life, frozen in a moment and, therefore, with the passing of time, new portraits from different angles can be painted. We come to school principally to learn; we talk about ‘developing intellectual curiosity’. David Taylor’s life has taught me that academic enquiry shouldn’t stop once you finish school.
During a recent conversation with a friend, he told me about his father, Ricky. Now retired, Ricky spent his entire working life, 1954-1990, teaching at Worksop College, an independent school in Nottinghamshire. Much of his experience was typical: teaching different subjects, assuming pastoral responsibility, progressing to different roles in due course. Furthermore, he participated in an array of wider activity: he coached the first XV rugby team; played the violin in the school orchestra, and stage-managed plays; he was in charge of cricket; played hockey for the Common Room; competed in a squash ladder; and established a creative clubs programme. So far, so believable. But at lunchtime on Saturdays, when the week’s lessons were over, he chucked his sports bag into the back of his car and drove to the Northampton Saints match; not to spectate, but to play. For in the days of amateur rugby union, Ricky could teach and play top-flight rugby concurrently. Of course, he was working in a different age, but his life can still teach us a lot: we should make the most of the varied educational opportunities on offer at school. Learning can be as effective outside the classroom as in one.
Sometimes we can feel in awe of people’s achievements and their determination to keep going whatever the cost. In many respects, Vicky Bowman is a normal person: she has a job and bills to pay, she is a mum and has a husband. In other ways she is utterly remarkable. She had a distinguished career as a diplomat, culminating in her appointment as the UK ambassador to Myanmar. After successfully completing her tenure, she returned to the country to lead an organisation which aims to bring ethical prosperity to a developing country. When the army overthrew the democratically elected government in 2021, things became more difficult. She stayed in Myanmar but was arrested and imprisoned for allegedly filling out a form incorrectly. It was more likely that the military wished to stop her work. After a period in jail, she was released and returned to the UK, but continues to campaign for a return to the rule of law. I met her in London last week. Somehow, she can make light of her tremendously difficult experience, preferring to talk about how she remains committed to Myanmar and hopes to promote understanding of this important country in the UK. I have rarely met a more informed, resilient and determined person who has spent her life in leadership and service, advocating for those less fortunate than herself.
Our unique context at Norwich School, nestled alongside this cathedral church, brings us into contact with another life, the life of Jesus Christ. His life is a paradigm of prayer, service, humility, and social justice; but, above all, He shows us how to love. By learning about the life of Jesus, we can explore ideas of faith, hope and love; indeed, we glimpse the divine. Through Him we can come to know life: life in all its fullness.
A poem to finish:
Oh why is heaven built so far,
Oh why is earth set so remote?
I cannot reach the nearest star
That hangs afloat.
I would not care to reach the moon,
One round monotonous of change;
Yet even she repeats her tune
Beyond my range.
I never watch the scatter'd fire
Of stars, or sun's far-trailing train,
But all my heart is one desire,
And all in vain:
For I am bound with fleshly bands,
Joy, beauty, lie beyond my scope;
I strain my heart, I stretch my hands,
And catch at hope.
- De Profundis - Christina Rossetti"
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