New not-for-profit private school chain is a class apart
A private education that doesn't break the bank is the stuff of many parents' dreams. Genevieve Fox visits a chain of no-frills primary schools that offer a model for the future.
As school buses go, an old tug boat is the stuff of children's picture books. Imagine it chuntering across the Thames at eight in the morning as it heads away from the hubristic O2 centre towards the historic Docklands buildings of Trinity Buoy Wharf, and you pretty much have an adventure up and running before you have even set foot on dry land.
Sarah Counter, the latest educationalist to be recruited by the New Model School Company (NMS), likes it that way. Adventure, exploration and history are virtually buzzwords for NMS, the not-for-profit chain of independent primary schools, established by Civitas (the social policy think tank founded in 2000 to discover solutions to social problems). With Robert Whelan, Civitas's inspirational deputy director, in the driving seat, NMS started life with one teacher, two pupils and an old trunk in which to store classroom materials.
Five years ago Whelan, who was a director of the Family Education Trust before joining Civitas, came up with a radical new educational initiative: a chain of affordable non-selective primary schools with a strong Christian ethos that could be
replicated nationwide. They would offer the high- quality education associated with the best independent schools but with far lower fees – £5,300 a year (compared with about £11,000). There are currently three NMS schools of various sizes and at different stages of development across London.
The emphasis is on providing education in its broadest sense. 'Nothing gives you an insight into the world and the way it works like a liberal education,' Whelan says. Good manners and respect for others is another NMS building block, as is the use of traditional teaching methods. The phonic method is used to teach reading and writing, and there is a healthy emphasis on subjects given short shrift by the National Curriculum, such as history and French, as well as music, art, dance and PE.
To keep fees low, NMS schools don't get drawn into the 'facilities arms race', as Whelan calls it, choosing instead to rent playing fields, swimming-pools and sports halls. Each school expands gradually, enabling them to grow slowly and keeping costs down for the parents. An important part of the NMS model is its belief in an education that prizes all disciplines, so the children have a shorter academic day – lessons in the mornings only, with afternoons devoted to creative and physical activities. These are often organised by parents, who are much more involved than at conventional schools.
'The challenge is to the prevailing political idea that the answer to educational problems is lots of money and centralised control,' Whelan says with gentle insistence. 'We want to show that the first is unnecessary and the second destructive. We don't think NMS will ever be massive, but it doesn't have to be to show that the model works.
'I compare us with the Society for Improving the Condition of the Labouring Classes, founded in 1844 by the seventh Earl of Shaftesbury. SICLC wanted to develop a model of good housing for poor people, but didn't go beyond a small number of developments that others could imitate – to show it could be made to work. Their most famous construction was the model housing erected in the grounds of the Great Exhibition in Hyde Park which now stands in Kennington Park. It was very widely imitated, as the design could be expanded vertically and horizontally. I would say the same about our little schools.'
In the absence of any state funds, NMS schools are financed by altruistic investors who buy shares giving only a five per cent annual return – any other profit is invested back into NMS, with the eventual aim that they become self-financing.
The staff-to-child ratio at NMS schools is, on average, one teacher to every 10 pupils, and class sizes never exceed 20. There are now 124 pupils across the three schools. Creativity is highly valued, as is academic excellence, achieved without the constraints of the target-driven National Curriculum. There are no entrance exams or Sats, and they hold the nurturing of creative, responsible individuals as paramount.
Sarah Counter is the first head teacher of Faraday, the third NMS school, which opened in September. She takes the tug to school only when accompanying visitors; she prefers to cycle from her bolthole a mile away in Canary Wharf, leaving Edward Kemp, the captain of SS Assassin, to look after the two pupils who travel by boat from the Greenwich Peninsula (the other six come by school minibus from Canary Wharf, or are dropped off by their parents).
On board today, Counter points out the landmarks – Canary Wharf tower, the David Beckham Academy, the East India Dock Basin. It is all so different from Milbourne Lodge, the leafy prep school in Esher, Surrey, where she was headmistress for seven years.
Derelict for years until the London Docklands Development Corporation began a regeneration programme in 1998, Trinity Buoy Wharf is now a dynamic arts and business centre that is home to 350 artists and creative enterprises, including the English National Opera, the London International Festival of Theatre, the circus training centre Genco, and the University of East London's dance studios.
For Counter, a music graduate and former educational consultant (she worked on Labour's first city technology academy, Unity City in Middlesbrough), the location was as much of a magnet for her as the presence of an arts community and the fact that NMS's core Christian principles chime with her own.
'When I saw the Times Educational Supplement's advertisement for a headteacher for a school with a Christian ethos, not just in a creative arts community, but in the heart of the Docklands, it rang all the right bells,' she says. 'At the time I wanted
to start my own school in the Docklands, which would have been pretty similar to NMS – one that offered the core curriculum, with wonderful science, history and arts. I saw a need; there are only two other independent schools in this area and young professionals with children are moving out as a result.'
When we spoke again five weeks into the term, being part of an arts community was already reaping dividends. 'The ENO have said they would give me scraps of material and any props I might need for plays,' she said. Counter's alma mater, Trinity College of Music in Greenwich, which runs a local outreach music programme, has also told her it needs children for its students to teach. 'There is link after link after link. It is quite phenomenal.'
Equally dynamic is the use of Container City, the low-cost modular construction system that, Lego-like, is used to make new buildings and extensions out of shipping containers. Faraday School occupies a Victorian gatehouse but has expanded its site through the addition of a rooftop playground constructed from old containers. This philosophy is central to the NMS model: start one school with only a few pupils, add more pupils, seek out bigger premises; open another school, and another. It is an organic process that is quite the opposite to the instant start-up of academies, which need substantial funding to get going.
Maple Walk, for example, NMS's first school, which started life five years ago with two children in a corner of a sports hall in Kensal Rise, north-west London, now has 96 pupils, housed in gleaming, purpose-built premises in Roundwood Park, Willesden. Maple Walk is funded by the Craigmyle Charitable Trust; in return, NMS pays rent for the premises. All NMS schools are financed along similar lines.
'We will never have a large pot of cash to become players in the property market,' Whelan says, 'because if we had to borrow large sums on commercial terms, the charges would have to be passed to parents in higher fees. We are always going to be in need of supporters who share our vision. The Fishmongers' Company is supporting Faraday School, for example. But we aim to have schools self-financing after three or four years, so we are seeking loans rather than outright gifts.'
On the way to Faraday School, named after the Victorian chemist and physicist who conducted his optical research in the Experimental Lighthouse at Trinity Buoy Wharf, we pass an old docklands hut. A sign hanging outside reads the faraday effect. Inside is an interactive installation documenting the life and work of the scientist. 'We haven't had time to take the children in yet,' Counter says, 'but we will. Here we are!' She leads me up to the first floor of the gatehouse.
The founding pupils – six girls and two boys aged between four and five (the aim is that by 2014 there will be 140 pupils) – are crisply turned out in uniforms of red sweatshirts and grey trousers or pinafores. They have been at their new school for three days, and yet, to my amazement, they chirp up with 'Welcome to Faraday!' as I walk into their small classroom. 'We use traditional teaching methods and promote high culture. But we also put a strong emphasis on politeness, courtesy and formality,' Counter tells me.
Next door, in the cosy fledgling library, she shows me the nature table bedecked with fresh produce to mark the harvest festival. Bright cushions in a dinosaur print are scattered on the floor. 'I spent the weekend making those,' Counter says, before ushering me past photographs of elephants ranging through the Maasai Mara (taken, I later discover, by Counter) and into the art room. 'We think of it as the messy play area,' she says. There is a tower of cardboard boxes in the middle of the room. 'We're making the Faraday Lighthouse.'
We can see the lighthouse from the rooftop playground that allows for both sheltered and outdoor activities. Three 40ft and three 20ft containers were lowered on to the building's flat roof. 'I call it our playground in the sky,' Counter says. She points to the cloud and porthole shapes that have been cut out of the bright blue painted metal to afford a view. 'I specifically asked for them to be low enough for the children to be able to see out of.'
As we take in the 360-degree panorama, I ask Counter if the children were primed to welcome me. Absolutely not, she says, adding that you can always tell if children have been coached. 'At least I certainly can. I'm an Ofsted inspector. The point is children learn by example. They've heard me welcoming visitors. For the same reason, I sit and eat with the children during meals.'
Maple Walk has a waiting list of several hundred children. It ticks every box for the aspirant parent who despairs of the limitations of the primary state sector but who can't afford the independent one. As Emily Compston, the mother of Oscar, six, and the project manager for the Maple Walk build, puts it the morning she shows me around the new schoolhouse, 'We can't do all the bells and frills of normal private schools. That's not what we are about.'
But Maple Walk does boast impressive green credentials. 'We've got a sedum roof,' Compston says, pointing up to the flowering dwarf succulents that absorb carbon dioxide and provide a home to various wildlife. 'We've got solar panels up there, a ground-source heat pump that harnesses energy from the earth, a rainwater harvesting system, and natural daylight tunnels inside the building. There's going to be a nature garden for the children, too. Oh, and a climbing frame. Some parents bought it off eBay.'
If it all sounds rather make-do, that is because it is – and it brings out the best in parents who value quality of education above inspiring buildings. 'I liked the fact that the emphasis was not on the premises,' Compston says, 'but on back-to-basics good education and a nurturing environment. Having 20 in a class was also very appealing.'
Oscar started reception in September 2007, when Maple Walk was in its original, very modest premises on Kensal Road – now occupied by the second NMS school, Stephenson. 'I liked its pioneering spirit, and was impressed by the early parents who had taken a leap of faith and sent their children to this brand new school. I respected the energy they brought to it,' she says.
An active PTA – the Friends Committee at Maple Walk – fundraises to buy any extras the school needs. 'We pay for the PE teacher, for example, and for coaches and books,' Compston says. 'Last Christmas we paid for a theatre company to do a production. One parent, an artist, has organised an artist-in-residence for the school. Parents are involved in enhancing the cultural life of the school. The idea is that teachers should have the time to teach, rather than get caught up in all the nitty-gritty and admin of after-school clubs.'
It is this sort of chance to be involved with fundraising and after-school activities that many NMS parents relish. 'Being involved makes you feel closer to your child,' says Maureen Vivian, a fashion stylist, whose son, Zak, eight, and daughter, Edie, four, both attend Maple Walk. 'You are relied upon to help in a positive way. I don't think anyone at Maple Walk wants to write a cheque and walk away.'
But paying out means you want something in return. What does Vivian feel she is getting for her money? 'A low cost, no-frills school with amazing teachers,' she says. 'Zak adores school, loves it. He was quite a shy child when he arrived. All the wonderful characteristics that I knew were there inside him have been brought out. The school is very nourishing; it's about details. Once a month, for example, we have Books Day: parents come in and look at everything their child has done. You don't talk to the teachers. You just talk to your child. Each child is considered as an individual; there is no sense they must fit into one box.'
Compston agrees. Oscar, she says, is thriving, and so, she feels, are all the children. 'I still come in to do snagging on the building and I see the children in the middle of the day, which most parents don't. What I see is a lot of very animated, happy, very polite, confident little people.'
Is it, I ask them, another posh, privileged private school in liberal, creative clothing? No, Vivian insists. 'It's more like a village school in a little country town in England where people actually know each other. The children shake hands with their teachers and say good morning to them each day. Manners are fundamental to the school. I'm a huge fan of that.'
Only seven per cent of the population is currently educated in the private sector. Last month David Cameron and the shadow chancellor, George Osborne, urged us to embrace austerity Britain, announcing that if the Conservatives were elected there would be a freeze in public sector salaries in 2011. Teachers were on the hit list, we discovered, after being told that 'we're all in this together'. Nevertheless, the shadow schools secretary, Michael Gove, has expressed a commitment both to improving the state sector and to the creation of new schools, independent of local authority control.
The trouble is, parents can't wait, and nor should they, Whelan says. But he goes one step further. 'Improving state schools doesn't remove the need for independent schools,' he says. 'The reason that state provision in many areas is so bad is because the state has a monopoly, or near monopoly. We need competition from different providers to keep up standards and show what can be achieved, otherwise complacency sets in.
'NMS does not exist primarily to expand the independent sector. Its role is to offer a model that could be imitated by state schools as well. We are trying to show how we think schools can be run. It so happens that we can only do this by being totally independent, given the complete lack of flexibility of the state model now, in which everything is rigidly controlled from the centre.'
If there is any doubt about the efficacy of being able to teach outside the curriculum, Counter will put you right. Her children spent their second day learning about the water around them, and then blowing bubbles and trying to catch them in their mouths. 'Oh, the hilarity!' she laughs. 'I couldn't have asked for a better group cohesion activity on day one.' Maybe learning can be fun, after all.
Counter says there is something else she wants to show me. 'Come on!' she says. 'Follow me.' So I do, of course. More ropes to jump over and a vehicle to manoeuvre past, then a short, narrow passageway flanked by wire fencing and leading to a brick wall. 'See! It's Banksy.'
Sure enough, there is one of his signature graffiti art pieces on the wall. 'The children love it,' she says, as she whizzes me back towards the jetty. 'Fun here, isn't it!
No comments:
Post a Comment