I’m A Boarding School Survivor

My father worked in Bahrain and as was the custom in those days when children reached a certain age they were educated in the UK while the rest of the family continued their life in far flung corners of the world.

I was sent to boarding school in the late 50s at just 8 yrs old.  I remember standing in this great big hall next to a huge trunk which held everything I owned. My mum went and that was it. I didn’t see her for another 3 weeks and then I didn’t see her again for another 8 months. 

In those early few weeks and months I don’t ever remember crying, I just got on with it. Over time a survival behaviour was established, the toilet was the only private place I could go to and give expression to my sorrow without risk of being ostracised. To this day I still excuse myself to the bathroom when upset. 

I spent school holidays with my Grandparents who were the most wonderful of people and they just loved me. I had this awful daily situation absent of all human love, but then I had the incredible fortune to have these amazing grandparents who were able to give me that rock solid support – albeit at termly intervals.

I was living the contrast of two total extremes, and it proved so formative. 

The sudden withdrawal of love & security has enormous psychological effects; for me it completely eroded any sense of value I had for myself.

Despite my best efforts to be removed from the school by foul means or fair, I remained there until I was 16 and a half. By this time I’d struck a deal with my father – if I buckled down and got my ‘O’ levels he would let me leave. I got my ‘O’ levels, and my freedom.

When I left I went completely mad. I was reckless, took repeated risks, hitchhiked everywhere, had frequent, constant boyfriends. I felt totally lost and bewildered, I had no value in myself.

I look back and see how incredibly angry I was. I know now that you need to let anger out. I was able to act mine out in those years before meeting my husband, thankfully without significant consequence. Culturally we are scared of anger but it’s far more dangerous inside than it is out. That was the last thing my mum said to me, before she died “you were such an angry young woman”. She didn’t understand.

Turning things around is credit to my grandmother. I looked at her life; a very simple soul, living in the village in the fens, hardly going anywhere, but I valued her above anyone. Hers was a life well lived, with strong values. I cared what she thought. 

One thing boarding school had given me, despite trying my hardest to avoid it, was a good education.

So I found the passion to do something – I became a teacher. 

My early experiences have been a driving force in my work. I sought roles with young people who experienced a wide range of disadvantage, I taught those who were marginalised and different. Even now, a retired special school headteacher, I still try to turn those personal traumatic events from a long time ago to good effect for other young people.

I think boarding school has made me one of life’s fighters. It taught me that the only person you can depend upon is yourself, which I’ve known to be both a strength, and a weakness.

And alongside the good education I happened upon, boarding school has also given me a unique appreciation for my own family.