1960: Yogi Jain: Visiting Teacher: Letter to Aitkenhead
‘John, for whatever it may be worth’
Yogi was one visitor the children enjoyed because he made a contribution to the life of the school as can be seen from the Broadsheet article that Yogi included in his writing. It's undated but probably around late 196os As he wrote in the accompanying letter to John . . ‘for whatever it may be worth’
KILQUHANITY HOUSE
Background
Royston Lambert, writing in Alternatives to School, comments on radical schools in the country. ‘The situation is one of retreat. On the one hand, many of the old self-styled radical schools catering for adolescents have given up and deliberately departed from the wholehearted implementation of their former creed; Abbotsholme, Dauntsey’s, Bryanston, Rendcomb, Leighton Park, Badminton have joined the Public Schools to which they were originally set up in opposition and are now virtually indistinguishable from them.
Bedales and some other schools have retreated to a middle-of-the-road position. No radical independent school of the old kind has been set up since 1940. In fact, there are only about six of them left which pursue the full unadulterated progressive ethic – Kilquhanity House, Monkton Wyld, St Christophers, Wennington, Summerhill and Dartington Hall School.’
Impressions: From the moment John received me at the bus stop, dressed in a colourful kilt, I knew it was going to be an exciting school to visit. Nothing I had read could possible have prepared me for K.H. Kilquhanity House. Coming straight after Gordonstoun, the contrast was complete.
Typically (so the staff informed me), John dropped me off at the school and left for the day – he was to go to Ayr to speak at a public meeting enquiry about dumping atomic waste in Galloway. Though he was not hopeful about the outcome, he was totally involved. I thought to myself: ‘If this is what he is like at the age of 60 or 70, what must he have been like when the school was founded – by him, of course?’ I could only marvel at him. I spent three days at Kilquhanity – three fascinating, bewildering days.
There was much that I saw and much more that I felt cannot be reduced to words. In some ways I felt it was an unreal world – can freedom be such a shattering experience for someone who has been conditioned differently? Was I seeing a lousy rundown school where people disappeared into various parts of it and did various jobs? Or was I seeing an extremely beautiful creation shaped by the will and sacrifice and dedication of one man and his wife? Or did the truth lie somewhere in between?
Though it was a school based on Neill’s concept of freedom, the pupils were expected to attend classes. I asked John why this was so. He said he had come around to this point of view after a few years at Kilquhanity. Something he had once written illustrated this. ‘Proudly our first (and only) prospectus quoted Barbour’s Bruce and declared that here there was freedom of attendance at lessons. And by this we meant quite simply that a child could come or not come to lessons exactly as he pleased. Today at Kilquhanity a child may choose what to learn, but if he wishes to remain in the class, he must attend regularly.
I think this is more real, and nearer to the meaning of freedom. Popularly we are called a free school, with all the silly connotations and inferences indulged by the sensation-loving press and gossiping critics; yet within the school the youngest pupil learns through experience the meaning at the hard core of the term freedom. I illustrate this sometimes rather crudely: a man is free to jump in the water or not jump in; but if he chooses to jump in he is not as free as he was before. For instance he is not free to remain dry.’ John also felt that Neill to had slowly come round to this point of view but felt that he could not retract from a stance that he had adopted.
As John talked passionately about the early difficulties he had had and how Neill stood by him, I got the impression of a dedicated man who had the courage of his convictions. He had battled against great odds to keep the school going; going about bankrupt frequently, risking jail. He narrated an incident concerning the time he was on trial for refusing to join the war.
An earlier defence had been rejected. On appeal now, he defended his school passionately and requested the judge to see Kilquhanity for himself. He was granted C.O. status. He chuckled as he narrated his story. I speak a lot about John and his convictions here, more than at any other school, the personality of the founder-head is inextricably woven into the character of the school today. Bedales had its Badley, Dartington had its Elmhirsts and Curry, Gordonstoun had its Kurt Hahn but Kilquhanity still had its John Aitkenhead. The school has never been without him. . . .
The morale of the school seemed high at times and low at others. The emphasis seemd more on living than learning. Some children displayed apathy and ennui at times – could it, perhaps be frayed nerves as the result of forty people living together in such intimacy for a long period of time?
To me it seemed greater demands must be made of the staff to hold and sustain the interests of the child. There are no gadgets or gimmicks to help you achieve this. No hierarchy appeared to exist and the children spoke their minds. They frequently used words like ‘fucking’ even in class – I never saw anyone being corrected for it. Is this defensible? Where do you draw a line between curbing freedom and teaching good manners? Can the two not be reconciled? Some kids appeared to love the place. Brendan told me, ‘I would never have gone to a state school; they’d have hit me and pushed me.’
Their main gripe appeared to be food – a common enough lament at most schools. So I cooked them a curry; they loved it.
There was a variety of activities going on - and the children were involved in pottery, farming, carpentry, etc.
In some ways, K.H. appeared to be a dream world – tree-houses and swings over ponds. I spent time in a tree-house and swung over the pond and enjoyed both immensely. The kids took me around, showed me their hideouts; they seemed fond of these little spots. Kilquhanity may not get many people to Oxford – does it matter? I have thought a lot about Kilquhanity since my visit there, (I even bumped into a Kilquhanity parent on a train form Petersfield to London, and she was absolutely delighted I had been there). Kilquhanity, I think, will haunt me for a long time to come.
I reproduce below an article that appeared in Kilquhanity Broadsheet No.349 soon after my visit there (not to show what a nice chap I am but merely to balance the picture) which John very kindly sent to me.
Visitors in General – Yogi in Particular
Kilquhanity attract a number of visitors every year, impelled by interest and curiosity. It is interesting for us, too, to see how different people respond to what they find here, to reap the benefit of their various experiences, and to hear their views before they leave.
Last week an Indian teacher, Yogi Jain – presently studying at the London Institute of Education – came to stay for two days as part of his own investigation of schools which fall under the broad category of ‘progressive’ or ‘alternative’, with a view to setting up, or encouraging the setting up of similar organised schools in rural communities in India.
Two days is not much time, of course, in which to make one’s mark but Yogi, will remain in our memory for some while yet on account of his having prepared for us a most delicious curry, and perhaps equally on account of his modest and affable nature. Most people here will have spoken to him on at least one occasion during his stay, which is an achievement in itself, for it is not a simple matter to get accepted in such a short time by a community of forty quite disparate characters of varying ages. In this respect, therefore, it might well be said that on such occasions visitors themselves are as much ‘on trial’ as the school.
No special arrangements are made to ‘entertain’ those who visit here from personal motives. After a conducted tour, generally by one of the younger members, and an introduction to staff at coffee time, it is then up to the visitor himself how he will spend his time. It is often a pleasure, of course, to invite visitors to join classes, especially if they can be engaged in conversations on subjects which are foreign to us, or in which we have interest but little knowledge.
Yogi’s specialist knowledge of India history prompted discussions about British Colonial involvement since the 15th century, the consequent exploitation and the inevitable struggle for independence.
The expression of his own feelings about British rule in India – that it succeeded in destroying, or at least supplanting much of the indigenous culture – was in marked contrast to history text books published in this country which give prominence to the supposed benefits of British government and administration, and ignore the deleterious effects of our forefathers’ arrogant sense of superiority and spiritual insensitivity. Clearly it is valuable to have opinions from different sources. It is all too easy to accept what appears in print without questioning the point of view, or suspecting the prejudices of the author.
