On one especially lovely summer’s day when the hedgerows were alive with the buzz of the honeybee, and planes carved a cat’s cradle of vapour trails across a sapphire sky, a judge from Britain in Bloom poked around the parish of St Andrew’s, Guernsey.
The fellow was something of a bloom-judging veteran. After spending half a life-time sizing up hanging baskets at village hall from Alderney to Aberdeen, he had seen the lot.
Even so, his attention was seized by what he discovered at St Andrew’s School. The children took him on a trip through their willow walk; gave him a guided tour of the veg patch; showed him the flower beds, and the water garden. Best of all, they showed him their real pride – the sensory garden. At that time of the year the scent from the mint, sage and lemon balm hung heavy on the air and an inferno of marigolds blazed in the borders.
The wily judge asked if the grounds had been shaped by a landscape gardener, or a professional horticulturalist. No sir, said the children. They had done the lot themselves, with mums and dads helping, as well as a team from the school’s friends at Waitrose.
He let out a slow whistle and said: ‘This school is something special. Please, hang on to it.’
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is exactly what parents and teachers are trying to do at St Andrew’s School. Hang on to it, while some misguided, badly-advised politicians do their best to destroy it. They have a Vision for Education. And the Vision cannot accommodate a small parish primary school. The best you can say about that is: beware of politicians with Visions. It seldom ends happily.
So, the school struggles to hang on. They wear their blue ribbons, and keep the faith for the sake of the generations of children who will be denied the priceless chance of an educational experience that is unique in Guernsey. Unique, but not necessarily better than other schools. Because who is to say what ‘better’ means in education? You can’t put a value on a child’s happiness. It doesn’t show up on a balance sheet. It doesn’t mean it has no worth.
Neither can you enter the value of a school’s place in the community in any ledger. It is something that either happens, or doesn’t happen. And St Andrew’s in so many ways IS the community. It is the school that gives until it can’t give any more.
Shortly after the Britain in Bloom judges left Guernsey (after awarding St Andrew’s a Gold Award), another group visited the school to enjoy the grounds. They were the men and women from the Guernsey Blind Association, the school’s next-door neighbours. On fine days they love strolling through the sensory garden, especially. The one that was designed, planted and nurtured by the children, for no better reason than that it made the surroundings more pleasing. They are always welcome guests.
Of course, if the old school bell rings for the last time, and the building is boarded up, and the gardens are abandoned to the weeds, they will have to find somewhere else to spend their afternoons.
Perhaps there is a provision for it in the Education Department’s Vision. You would have to guess not though.
And so we are left to live with one more in a thousand little ripples of regret which will eddy out from the greater catastrophe of the closure of a school. Another tiny part of what makes Guernsey special will be lost. A little part of the island will have died.
The blind people can see it. Those with the Vision can’t.
They should have another look.