Reflections of an Educational Leader: A Journey Beyond the Battlefields - a WW1 Pilgrimage

It was early Friday morning when we gathered, two coachloads of excited yet groggy Year 9 students, for our pilgrimage to the battlefields of Belgium. Organised by my esteemed colleague Elizabeth Carr , this trip had a clear educational purpose: to contextualise the horrors of WW1 for students, connecting the names in their textbooks to the landscape where lives were irrevocably altered. Yet, as I reflect on this trip, it became so much more than a History lesson—it was a lesson in life, empathy, and character.

Our jam-packed itinerary—quintessential Avanti Grange style—defied the doubts of even the tour guide, Phil. We accomplished the impossible: Hill 60, Paschendale Museum, Tyne Cot, Langemark, the Menin Gate, Newfoundland Park, and finally Thiepval, (not to mention some of the smaller sites visited). Along the way, our students were immersed in the stark reality of conflict, but it was the quiet, unexpected moments of reflection and growth that lingered with me.

At Hill 60, the massive crater—a scar left by the explosion at Caterpillar Hill—stood as a poignant reminder of destruction. Yet it was equally a testament to healing, as nature has slowly reclaimed the site. It was both a scene of industrial scale horror, and a scene of sublime beauty, inspiring me to collate my thoughts in the following poem:

Pool of Renewal

Where once the earth split open wide and deep, now the pond rests,

its surface mirrors the sky’s quiet sigh, mildew

softens the edges with green,

healing, unseen.

This image though mirrored the students’ journey: confronted with the brutal past, they too were growing, healing, and evolving in their understanding of the world. At sites like Tyne Cot and Langemark, the sheer scale of loss humbled us all. The students, usually so vibrant and talkative, fell silent in awe, absorbing the weight of history.

But the highlight for me, the moment that crystallised the trip’s true value, came at Newfoundland Park. There, our students stood atop the monument, beneath the bronze caribou, honouring the sacrifice of the Newfoundlanders, enveloped by the sounds of nature and a collective, almost sacred silence - broken only by the sound of birds chirping and cawing. It was here, more than anywhere else, that our students fully embraced the Avanti Way—demonstrating integrity, self-discipline, and empathy in a setting that demanded nothing less. Once more - I could not let this moment pass without penning my thoughts in poetry:

Newfoundland Park

A crow flaps through the cold air,

its black wings cutting into the quiet,

circling above where my students stand,

their heads tipped towards the stone beast—

that caribou, frozen in defiance,eyes set on what was lost.

A caw breaks the silence, sharp and lonely,

while the breeze whispers through the grass,

soft like history’s sigh,and birds—small and delicate—chirp faintly,

as if daring to speak here, where the earth holds so much.

I watch them, proud.

Not just for their silence, but for the way they listen.

Phil, our tour guide—an ex-military man steeped in the traditions of combat and military history, and a fondness for the closing remark "THAT IS ALL" —initially treated us like any other group he had led. But over dinner in Ypres, we spoke, and he acknowledged that our students were unlike others. They were open to reflection, to serious contemplation. His remark, “What you consider poor behaviour is completely ignored by other schools I have toured,” resonated with us as a team. At Avanti Grange, we hold our students to high standards—not just academically, but as human beings. This trip was their opportunity to practice those virtues in real-time.

The Menin Gate ceremony was perhaps the most outward display of these virtues. As three of our students laid a wreath, their actions represented not just our school, but the generations that came before them. It was a moment of deep respect and humility, a tangible expression of the values we strive to instill in our students daily.

Beyond the cemeteries and the trenches though, this trip was about the formation of character. It wasn’t just a History trip. It was a space where we, as educators, had the privilege of shaping young minds. In the quiet moments on the coach, during the drizzle at Thiepval, or while preparing sandwiches at dawn, bonds were formed that go beyond the typical teacher-student relationship. We saw glimpses of the leaders, the compassionate changemakers, they are becoming—students who will go into the 21st century with conviction, a sense of humanity, and a deeper understanding of what it means to live in a world shaped by both beauty and tragedy.

But this journey of character formation extended beyond just our students—I, too, have grown as a person, educator, and leader. Time spent away with colleagues like Laura Higley , Madeleine Roy , Eleanor S , Genevieve Millard and Alison McCulloch offers a unique opportunity to strengthen the bonds that underpin effective teamwork. It’s a chance to 'talk shop,' share stories, and strategise our next steps. For me, this trip was another step forward in my leadership journey, but I also hope that for colleagues newer to the role, it was a valuable experience in personal and professional growth.

As we returned home, exhausted but fulfilled, I knew that this trip would remain in the minds of our students—not just as a chapter in their education, but as a part of their growing-up story. The juxtaposition of past devastation and present learning created a unique opportunity to teach, and in doing so, we prepared them for far more than their next exam. We prepared them to navigate the world with integrity, empathy, and resilience.

I look forward to many more of these transformative journeys with our students—trips that go beyond history and become vital steps in their lifelong journey of growth.