Let me start with a quote. This quote, I know, is one of Mr Parker’s favourites. It’s a good quote and, like pretty much any good quote, is the tip of an iceberg.

Peter Drucker, a man famous for his business acumen and insights to leadership, tells us that “culture eats strategy for breakfast”. What does Drucker mean? Well, he’s suggesting that the most important thing about a business or a team or an institution is not their fancy plans or clever techniques or sophisticated protocols, but their mood and cohesion. Their willingness to pull together for a common aim. Their sense of a shared destiny. And he’s right – culture trumps strategy every time. You can have yourself the best strategy in the world, but if your culture isn’t right, the strategy will fail. We see this often in sport. Great team, wonderful players, beautiful stadium, fantastic game plan … toxic dressing room culture, failure on the pitch. Manager gets the sack.

This theme of the pre-eminence of culture is picked up on by one of my favourite writers on the subject of schools and education, the American academic Neil Postman. In his book Teaching as a Conserving Activity, Postman notes, “Schools are generally acknowledged to “have” curriculums although typically it is not acknowledged that they are a curriculum. But, of course, they are. Everything about school has an effect - intentional or not - on shaping the young … the total school environment is the most visible thing about school and certainly what is most remembered about school by everybody in later years.” His point is that children are learning all the time. That, apart from sleeping, is all that children do do and they can’t stop, whether they like it or not. Humans are intellectual sponges, and they have to be – because they have put all their survival eggs in one basket: the basket of being brainy. Without sharp teeth and powerful jaws, without ripping muscles and slashing claws, without poison to inject or a horn with which to gouge, humans have no choice other than to be smart, if they are going to make it through to the next day on Planet Earth. So, understanding this to be the case, humans invented a technology called “school”, where they packaged up knowledge via a technology called “subject areas” (all of which, in reality, overlap and are best approached simply as Life), and delivered it through a technological partition of time, called “lessons”. 

Postman understands this process very well, and also understands that the choice of “subject areas” at a school is critical to its culture and to the kind of human beings it will help create. In another of his books, The End of Education, Postman riffs on this theme: “My favourite subject of all time”, he writes, “is found in a curriculum developed by Confucius, which required students to study and practice archery - not, incidentally, because they were being trained as soldiers, but because the subject taught them discipline, precision, and concentration. Confucius also insisted in students studying what we would call “good manners”. Can you imagine a school today requiring as a major subject the study and practice of good manners? Surely no one can say that it is not an important subject.”

Indeed, it is an important subject. If we’re going to get along with one another and fashion a world fit for decent people to live responsible lives, we really had better understand the concept of “good manners” – and, by extension, both how vital and how contested that concept is among the different people who share the planet. But Postman is wrong in supposing that no school would take such a subject seriously – because ICHK, as you well know, takes it very seriously … seriously enough to have created a curriculum all about manners and etiquette and conventions and rituals and modus operandi and customs and traditions. Of course, we call it Human Technologies.

And what culture does Human Technologies seek to promote? Again, you know it well, or, if you are one of our younger students, are coming to know it. It promotes a culture of happy, confident, intelligent warriors. Or, in other words, courageous people who are content and at ease with themselves, not complacently but thoughtfully, and who know what is worth defending and, if necessary, what is worth fighting for.

How do we achieve that aim? Well, again, I trust you know the answer to that question, too, and I’m teaching my grandmother to suck eggs. We achieve it through crafting and nurturing a culture in the school. And if Neil Postman’s favourite course of study is archery, for the discipline, precision and concentration it fosters, then I have my own candidate, one which is offered, naturally at ICHK, because, if we say we are going to do it, well, let’s do it. 

At ICHK, then, we don’t offer archery for discipline and precision – or not yet; but we do offer “Rope Rigging for adventure and rescue”.  

Rope Rigging for adventure and rescue – and for boldness, self-mastery, trust, and joie de vivre. Because it’s in that spirit that we believe young people should grapple with the challenges and opportunities that life brings. And, yes, we’re back with happy, confident, intelligent warriors – for that is ICHK’s culture.

Which brings me on to the second part of my presentation today – what could have been the sadder, even distressing, even disturbing, part, were it not for the fact that the culture of our school, now eleven years in the making, is so well-established and so strong.

It’s impossible for anyone with any history at ICHK to hear the phrase “happy, confident, intelligent warrior” without immediately having a certain tall, storytelling Scotsman spring to mind. It was Ben Blain who coined the phrase and it has been Ben Blain who, year on year, as Head of Year 7 inculcated successive new generations of ICHK students into the school’s philosophy and ethos. Ben helped children to face down their fears, to continue to find wonder and pleasure in their lives as they grew into their new pre-teen and teenaged selves, and to conquer the world as members of tight, inspired, and determined teams. And after a decade of service, Ben is leaving ICHK.

And not just Ben. This year we lose more teachers than in all the previous six years combined. In addition to Ben, six other truly exceptional colleagues take their leave, heading for new challenges in far-flung corners of the globe.

Douglas Kidd, who as Deputy Head played a significant role in shaping the vision of the school, and especially honing that vision into a pioneering outdoor leadership experience for students who, in many cases, didn’t know they had it in them.

Dawn Johnson, who in taking on and transforming the SRC has left a legacy that has given ICHK students something to strive towards, to be inspired by, and to be proud of for years to come.

Victoria Lee, a supremely determined Head of English, whose dedication to extending students’ passion for written expression, was exemplified by the succession of writing talents she nurtured through their contributions to the Peek, the archives of which extend back to September 2013.

Jamie Holden, who doubled up his progressive vision of Mathematics with a commitment to equipping young people with first aid and lifesaving skills, which led, memorably, to an ICHK student feeling confident enough to step in and provide CPR when he witnessed a fellow traveller collapse on the MTR. Truly, lifesaving. 

Vincent Wang, who despite only being with us for two years, has left an indelible impression on the learners he has worked with, not least because of tremendous good humour and warmth. Vincent is a man who literally always has a smile on his face.

And, finally, last but by no means least, Chris Cook, who has uncovered and developed so much artistic talent in the children she has worked with over the years. If Neil Postman is right and every aspect of school has a shaping influence on the children who attend it, how vital it is that the school environment gives cues and clues about beauty and playfulness, colour and light, luminousness and resonance. My intention has always been that the campus should be an artwork, a living museum, a permanent installation – and Chris has achieved that.

And, yet, despite all these friends and colleagues departing, despite the skills and attributes they take with them, despite their many and priceless contributions being at an end, I cannot feel downhearted or dismayed. They leave behind them the school they have helped to build and the culture that they have helped to broaden and deepen.

Ben is leaving, but Nelly Loi-Fong is here to care for Year 7. Douglas departs, but Dave Addison will steward the outdoor leaders. Dawn moves on, Phoebe Wong will mentor the SRC. Victoria says farewell, Richard Barnes will take the English department to new heights. Jamie waves adieu, Kirstyn Lowe will straddle Maths and First Aid and bring urgency to both. Vincent exits, our amazing Chinese teachers will bring another fresh face into the fold and shape them to their unique style. Chris packs up her paintbrushes, Amy Thibeault will ensure that art remains an everyday, inspiring presence in the life of ICHK.

In short, culture eats transformation for breakfast. Provided it’s the right culture. And, thanks to the efforts of those who are moving on – and to whom we give our profound thanks – I have faith that ICHK’s culture couldn’t be better.

Safe travels to all – those who leave and those who will return. Enjoy the summer!