So, here we are: the end of another school year. Congratulations to you all, children and adults alike, for the opportunities you have taken, for the progress you have made, for the things you’ve learned, the connections you’ve drawn, and the growth that you have experienced -- not just here, in school, but also in your lives more widely. All that effort, all that engagement, creativity, risk-taking, diligence, and participation is how we deepen and expand as individuals and as a community. It makes us smarter and stronger - and it happens, of course, day by day, week by week, month by month, provided that is, we keep our brains active, our minds open, and our spirits up, ready to adapt to the challenges of life.

For my own part, this has been a memorable year. After thirteen years in the thick of things at ICHK, buffeted by the turbulence of daily events and by the non-stop flow of happenstance, I have been able to stand back, let Mr McDermott handle most of the aggravations and escapades that go with being Head of School, and focus instead on the mission and vision of what we are doing and where we are headed as an institution. To be specific, to focus on how it is that by “learning together, thoughtfully”, we are optimally equipped “to educate all our students, unlock their potential and offer an experience that best prepares them for life beyond school.”

To share all that I have learned in the last twelve months would take many presentations and many assemblies, and, you’ll be relieved to know, I don’t intend to do that now. But I would like to offer one conclusion that I have reached - or, rather, one impression that I have had confirmed to me - over the course of the year.

It’s the impression that ICHK is a little unusual and, in its unusualness, has escaped a trap.

Let me explain.

I’d like you to picture the computer you use each day. Now, think of its keyboard. What six letters begin the first line?

QWERTY.

That’s an odd combination, and there’s a story behind it. It’s a rather perverse story - a story of technical limitation and deliberate damage to human potential. A story of hobbling people, constraining them, of reining them in. The story goes like this.

Once upon a time, if you wanted to keep a permanent written record of a meeting, discussion, contract, or agreement, it had to be written in longhand by someone specifically skilled in that task. The process was slow, prone to human error, and relied heavily on the delicate artistry of penmanship. The legibility and accuracy of the record depended on the scribe's skill, and revisions or duplicates demanded painstaking effort. As empires and corporations expanded, so written communication steadily grew in importance, yet producing records remained labour-intensive, time-consuming, error-strewn, and expensive.

Enter the typewriter—a marvel of nineteenth century ingenuity that would revolutionize the way information was captured, copied, shared, and preserved, and change the face of the world forever.

But not without hiccups along the way. Early typewriters relied on metal arms, or typebars, to imprint letters onto paper. If adjacent typebars were pressed too quickly, they jammed. To solve this, Christopher Latham Sholes designed the QWERTY keyboard to slow typists down by spacing out commonly paired letters. This solution, while ingenious at the time, was ultimately a workaround—a design intended to accommodate the mechanical limitations of early typewriters, not to promote the potential of their human users. Think about that: the needs of the machine came first.

Now, as the typewriter evolved and its technology improved, the constraints of jamming typebars faded into irrelevance. Yet the QWERTY layout endured. Why? Because by then, it had become embedded in practice. Secretaries and typists trained on QWERTY machines had become indispensable to businesses and could not be replaced. Even when alternative designs, like the Dvorak Simplified Keyboard, were shown to be more efficient and ergonomic, they had no hope of dislodging QWERTY. The cost of retraining, retooling, and overcoming habits was simply too great; institutional inertia had taken hold; the world was stuck with QWERTY.

The QWERTY keyboard is a classic example of what’s called path dependence: the way early decisions can set constraints that persist long after their original rationale has disappeared. And while the story of your computer keyboard’s stalled evolution may seem quaint, the implications of path dependence can, on occasions, be more far-reaching and, ultimately, troubling.

Which brings me back to us, here, as we conclude our latest year at ICHK.

Because the fact is that the modern school system, much like the QWERTY keyboard, bears the hallmarks of now dubious anachronism. Emerging during the 1800s, schools were designed to prepare students for a sudden glut of jobs - in administration, bureaucracy, and factories - thrown up by colonisation and the Industrial Revolution. This preparation emphasised docility, obedience, conformity, rote memorization, regimentation, compliance —the qualities of character required to contribute to an economy dominated by repetitive tasks, mindless labour, clear hierarchies, and predictable processes.

This program made sound economic sense at the time, stamping young people with the skills and behaviours required to secure employment in a rapidly industrializing world. But, just like the QWERTY keyboard, this vision of education’s purpose became entrenched, and its structure, focus, values and assumptions persisted, even as the world changed.

And, as the decades passed, the world did change - repeatedly. Although judging by the school system, you would barely have guessed it.

Today, as you and your parents are coming to appreciate, with the advent of digital technologies and artificial intelligence, the routine bureaucratic and administrative careers that schools were designed to serve are rapidly disappearing.

AI now performs repetitive tasks, processes vast amounts of information, gathers and presents arguments, writes code, synthesises disparate data sources, and makes complicated decisions faster and more accurately than humans. As we watch on, the foundations upon which the school system was built crumble. And yet, the system itself remains largely unchanged, oblivious to the ruination, funnelling students through an educational experience designed for a world that has ceased to be.

But here’s the good news: as I suggested earlier, ICHK is different. I believe, with good evidence, that we have managed to escape the QWERTY trap.

And with another year at school behind you, I hope that you yourselves feel the difference. I hope you feel the extent to which you are being encouraged not just to learn about the world, in ways that can be written down and tested and graded, but rather are being encouraged to learn to be in the world, in ways that, finally, can only be lived and undergone. To learn to be in ways that feel authentic and resonant, that engage you in complex and challenging situations, that enable you to form and maintain better relationships, that involve you in ethical and moral dilemmas, that prompt you to provide support and service for others; in short, in ways that add to the strength and depth of your characters. Because that is the impetus behind your apprenticeship at ICHK: behind the choice you experience in Free Learning, the immersion you experience in Deep Learning, the self-reflection and self-regulation you experience in Human Technologies, the challenge you experience in Outdoor Learning, the variety you experience in Activities, and the flexibility you experience in Enrichment and Flow. To build experience.

As I finish my time as Head of School, passing on to Mr McDermott the responsibility for leading ICHK into the exciting times that lie ahead, I reflect on our vision at ICHK. I mentioned it earlier: “to educate all our students, unlock their potential and offer an experience that best prepares them for life beyond school.”

I believe it is these experiences, summed up as Curriculum X - comprising the elements that path-dependent education neglects or ignores - that best prepare you for life beyond school. They expand on the art and craft of being human, they enjoin you to ‘human well’. And I look forward to watching you keenly from afar as you continue to take advantage of them all, as you throw yourselves into life at ICHK, forging yourselves into the people that you want to be, shaping the world you want to help lead.