Interview with a Head Master Mr Jones-Parry is surprisingly eloquent. He spoke quickly, confidently, about anything we cared to ask - within, of course, our own discretion - with an unhesitating fluency that might almost have sounded rehearsed if it hadn't been so directly pertinent to the questions we fired.
I'd hate to think our questions were so unimaginative that he could have predicted all of them in advance. So I have to readjust my previous opinion of him as being unfair - I suddenly realised when we began the interview that until now the only occasions on which I had ever heard him speak at any length were in Abbey. There, the endless, booming acoustics mean that sermons have to be delivered grindingly slowly, or they'll be drowned out in their own echo.
TJP in person is different: not, in fact, the Dickensian stereotype Head Master, raining down hellfire prophesies from the pulpit on the dangers of cyberspace, although his speeches to the school have been known to contain subtle apocalyptic overtones. It was something different to hear him speak at leisure, in the spacious office he occupies above Common Room, decorated in an imposing regency style with thematic Westminster Pink.
Although it was impossible for Charlie or I to detect whether he had any actual enthusiasm for the times we have to move with, he was certainly making preparations for them. He was keen to plug the new IT facilities that have sprouted all over the school in the past year: the sparkling, well-heated IT room; the computers now found throughout all the houses, linked by extensive networking cable; the fully modernised library now offering video tapes, CDs and DVDs. An expression of gratitude was given to Messrs Dudley-Smith, Hindley and Stevenson for their infectious enthusiasm for new gadgets, which has diverted substantial school funds into new technology. He admitted though that the trial programme of giving fifth-formers personal laptops would not be continued nest year. It had been an interesting experiment, but next year the laptops would be used instead as a spare bank of machines, should they be required for lessons.
There has been some tightening of loopholes since TJP's arrival , or at least the reintroduction of old rules that had been allowed to lapse. Perhaps our iciest moment in a pleasant interview came when we asked about the banning of lessons outside in Little Dean's Yard during good weather. Our query was batted back (with a hint of fierceness, I thought) with the comment that the new rule was in fact an old one, enforced in order to keep down the babble of noise that tended to disrupt other lessons. Outdoor lessons, he reminded me, were perfectly acceptable (and commonplace) in Ashburnham Garden and on Green.
There's certainly something distinctly old-school and disciplinarian about TJP's conduct - in his appearance, his mannerisms, his use of language, that vaguely intimidating height, even his track record. The fact that this is his third incarnation at Westminster (pupil, master, Head Master) had made me for one assume he was a somewhat conservative, traditional figure. If it ain't broke, one shouldn't fix it. Certainly there's something of that approach that applies particularly well to Westminster (aren't we the best, and the best-qualified, at complacency?).
But his actual agenda is quite at odds with his public image - as is his message. There was something weirdly fascinating about his dissertation at Commemoration in October: there's a juxtaposition of contrasting style and substance in him that can sometimes bewilder. In fact, TJP is something of a liberal reformist, or at least possessed of a keenly modern sense of social welfare within schools. Since his arrival two years ago the School Council has been set up, a student body which meets to discuss new ideas with the staff on a regular basis. Whether this Council has the power to do anything except make suggestions is a moot point, but at least it's a step forward in terms of pupil feedback.
The other key reforms TJP was keen to promote, other than the miniature IT revolution currently sweeping the school, were the anti-bullying schemes. The newly revamped peer supporter scheme is a year old now, and has apparently been a great success. The discretion of the scheme is such that, even were it to have bombed completely, most students would have heard little unless they had actively participated in it. Certainly help for the troubled pupil is now freely accessible; house notice boards are crammed with flyers and information posters offering sessions with the school counsellor. On the matter of actually dealing with the "bullies", the Head Master explained that the policy was one of playing it by ear. Sometimes, he said, the problem could be dealt with and smoothed over, but that occasionally tougher measures had to be taken.
He revealed a surprising pragmatic realism when touching on the sensitive matter of drugs when he admitted that it was impossible for the staff to ever actually gauge the extent of Westminster's drug problem. "You know better than I," he said, looking straight at us, "how wide spread drug usage is in the school." And of course, he was right.
But neither drug abuse nor bullying has ever been a chronic problem at Westminster; as such they didn't occupy a large proportion of the interview. A greater concern as to the future of the school lies with the academic syllabus itself, and it was while talking about the new A-Levels (to be instituted nationwide next year) that TJP became really vocal. It has become something of a personal crusade for him; last year The Times published a spirited correspondence between him and the High Mistress of St. Paul's Girls School in which he fiercely took issue with many of the claims made for the changes. His objections, he explained to us, lay not in the broadening of the number of subjects studied but in the lack of depth that the new courses contained - some of them, particularly the languages, are more akin to GCSEs than the current A-Levels. Given the fact that most Westminster students study for four or five A-Levels anyway, breadth is not a problem for them anyway.
TJP's other objection was the system of modular courses, whereby AS-Levels are taken at the end of the Sixth Form to determine University offers. He argued, completely plausibly, that to place exams of such significance at the end of the first year would destroy the Sixth Form's character. It would become yet another year of swotting and cramming for exams, and the pressure placed on students would displace the extra-curricular activities that, he said, were so much a part of Westminster's atmosphere. Plays, music recitals, opera; he expressed his particular enthusiasm for the welcoming, creative feel of the art department. It was the first time I had ever heard a member of the teaching profession mount an argument against exams. And although there was the underwritten assumption (in this defence of the old-fashioned, non-modular A-Level) that his argument could only ever apply to the high-flying public schools, it still rang true. As a general tenet, education should be less about exams, more about learning, and more about activities outside the classroom.
Whether that will, in fact, be the shape of the future remains unclear. The Head Master would not say whether Westminster was to hold out indefinitely against the new system; he admitted that beyond the next two or three years it would be impossible to say what would happen. We await with angst whether TJP will continue his stand.
Paul Kreitman (BB)