Rector John Light’s Valedictory Speech

My lords, ladies and gentlemen

Let’s get one thing established. This Exhibition is about you, the pupils of the Academy. Obviously it’s special for those of you who are leaving today; and for those, because they get their applause, who are prizewinners. But emphatically the Exhibition is about you, whether you’re a Geit or a Sevenths, whether you’re short, round, curvy or straight up and down, blue-eyed, freckled or curly.

You are the reason we are here on the platform. You make us laugh, and tear what we nostalgically call our hair. Your energy is our oxygen and your daftnesses – of which there are and should be plenty – are our joy and our challenges. A few incidents for you. I stood umpiring at New Field in May, when there was a huge flash of lightning, followed a few seconds later, by an equally enormous rumble of thunder. One of my own team was standing by me and said in all seriousness; Sir, do you think it’s going to rain. The words no and Sherlock, separated by a noun, sprang to mind, followed by a mental note; that Head of Geography just has to go.

A few weeks ago, two strangers to the Academy entered the Music School and had a look around to see what they might pilfer. They were seen by one of our Seconds pupils and I asked him for a description; height? clothing? footwear? Vague answers. Any distinctive features? A wicked look crossed the lad’s face and he said straight-faced; ‘e ‘ad a scar right down ‘is cheek and across his fore’ead.

Back in November we had the Christmas Fair. Why anyone buys anything for Christmas before December 23 rd is a mystery to me, but Academy parents are evidently raving shopaholics and the event was a huge success. There in pole position at the entrance to the Science Centre sat a posse of Sixths and Sevenths pupils, Young Enterprise directors, dressed like loan sharks. The pink ties, smart suits, sharp shirts had a purpose. They were selling. Their product was £10 a throw; but the product, a recipe book, hadn’t been produced, it hadn’t been designed or printed, it hadn’t even been compiled. Still they raked in about £500 in advance orders and gave a whole new meaning to the term short selling. But full credit to the designer label crooks; they delivered the goods and I know from experience that the recipes were great.

My own teaching has been hilarious; ineffective but hilarious. If you teach languages, you get used to exchanges such as: “What’s the weather like today”. “A hamster.” “How do you come to school in the morning?” “She has brown eyes and she’s a secretary”. “Describe to me what you’re wearing”. “Mathematics”. It’s the sort of conversation which reminds one of the story heard last week about the wonderful Humphrey Lyttleton. He described his lifelong friend and pianist, Colin Searle, as a worker of miracles because his piano playing could turn a blind man deaf.

On the senior games fields, (you’ll see the link in a second) wonderful moments of sublime skill this year, particularly from two outstanding talents. Alex Blair and Tom Brown were a duo who played in harmony, unlike their namesakes, Tony and Gordon. They were part of a very fine and a very entertaining 1 st XV who were relatively small in stature, but who deserve to go down as one of the best in decades. Sadly, there was another mob up the road at Colinton who were also exceptional, and we came second to them on two disappointing occasions. Three points down in the first match against them; less than two minutes to go; penalty in front of their posts, and we run the ball - because no one on the field is sure about the score. Our coach has been waking up at night screaming ever since, but intensive counselling is doing the trick. Second match, a cup game, real needle encounter; Academy go ten-nil up after a converted try and a penalty. A group of Junior School pupils, hugely excited, chant “Easy, easy”. The icy kiss of death, what we oldies call the Murray Walker moment. Never presume when Lady Luck is around.

Incidentally, at that same game, as the nameless opposition drew ahead, one of their supporters, armed with a great bass drum indifferently concealed on his chest, decided he would go parading. He walked round the pitch away from his own supporters, and banged his instrument right in the faces of the Academy contingent. Like a flash, one of our colleagues was upon him; he quietly led the lost lamb away and escorted him back to his own flock. Superb schoolmastering, no fuss, no big incident, but boy, would I love to know what he said to him.

We’ve also seen amazing courage this year. Last term, Connor Docherty, a pupil from St.Aloysius in Glasgow, injured his vertebrae in a collision with one of our 1 st XV players. For some time, it looked as if his outlook was grim, for he had no movement below the waist or in one arm. A couple of weeks ago, I learned that he will be out of hospital by the end of this month, that he has enough movement to get about on crutches, and that he will be accompanying St.Aloysius’ rugby players on their summer tour to South Africa before resuming at St.Aloysius in August. He has a special brand of determination and my word, he deserves a round of applause wherever he is.

Moving on, another event last term was the production of “Mikado”. Oh, it’s just another Gilbert and Sullivan, some might say. What’s “just” about G&S? The music is challenging for singers and orchestra; the words are timeless but difficult, and it’s not easy to pull off well known pieces and to give them freshness. This was terrific. Great singing from the principals; three sparky little maids from school, a terrifying, wonderfully costumed Katisha, and a Ko-Ko who was laconic and artful, but right on the button throughout. I went on the first night, having only just written a scathing end of term report on same Ko-Ko which almost melted the laptop; I scurried back, shamefaced after the performance to change it.

And public speaking. My, have we heard some good stories there, and not only in the past year. Every year, the standard is remarkable, thanks in large part to a remarkable instructor. January past, I reckon I heard the finest Immortal Memory I’ve ever encountered from anyone, adult or school pupil, given by this year’s Dux, Alex Sutherland. Witty, learned, cleverly paced, thoughtful; there’s someone who can work an audience better than dry Rectors and heidies. Who knows, he might end up a judge.

Amid all this colour and, for me, sparkle, is interwoven the everyday thread of the Academy. Daily assemblies which lay down the values of this community; often Christian, often from another angle. Knock on the door towards the end of last term; Sevenths pupil; Sir, we reckon we ought to have a week of atheist assemblies. Gulp, that’s a mailbag to look forward to, but no point in playing Canute. So, begging your pardon, Norman, we had indeed a week of humanist/atheist addresses, inviting everyone to look outside themselves, but from a different perspective. That’s healthy – provided that everyone thinks for herself or himself.

Which other threads make up the fabric? Art and Design Technology for sure; at the heart of the Academy. There are exhibitions for you to look at if you have a moment; please go and see the work of pupils of all ages – and spot the vibrancy and the ideas which they display. Anyone who exhibits their own self on a wall, or can plan and execute work in metal, wood, plastics or, next year, jewellery, has my undying respect and admiration.

Music also; not one Mikado and that’s all for the year. Chamber concerts, composers’ concerts, a Queen’s Hall evening in May with such a range of demanding, interesting pieces and with soloists of real style and panache. Then, in this hall a fortnight ago, a huge choir with full orchestra and soloists, rolling over Beethoven and Haydn and Mozart. What a privilege for young people; I hope that you appreciate it.

Last month, another group of musicians enjoyed a different privilege. How many teenage pipers and drummers have had the chance to march out of the Castle, on to the Esplanade, to beat retreat in front of a Major-General and a Lieutenant-General? Our group of schools in Scotland have that opportunity, and it was particularly significant for us this year, as the Academy’s Cadet Force celebrated its centenary with a reception in the Great Hall of the Castle after that parade. It’s worth pointing out that this wee school boasts no less than 9 holders of the Victoria Cross. Several recent Accies are or have recently been engaged in Afghanistan or Iraq, in conflicts which they and their comrades did not choose to enter. We should not forget what we owe to the men and women in our armed forces, and although it’s not without controversy, I am glad that the cadet movement thrives in this school.

The Academy really is a richly woven tapestry, ladies and gentlemen – and I haven’t yet mentioned the nuts and bolts of the school, namely what goes on in the classroom. That’s the boiler room job in a school, and it takes hours, months, years of patient toil which, some will feel, go unnoticed. Well, ladies and gentlemen behind me, you’re not unnoticed. You are great professionals, you do barrowloads of work to promote standards in your own fields, and you do a whole heap of other things besides, including trips to Iceland and Costa Rica, visits to museums, sailing on or in the oily waters of the Forth, coaching games, producing plays, above all teaching people, not just subjects. You are the best people I have ever, ever worked with, and I’m sure that parents and pupils here share my admiration and my enormous affection for you all.

A few people I have to single out this year. David Standley is a cornerstone of this school, and he knows every hidden corner of it. He has been fixer, adviser, sounding board, mickey-taker and utterly loyal friend for the last thirteen years – and I cannot find enough words to thank him for his energy and his get-the-job-done approach. What a player; what work behind and in front of the scenes. David, shake a hand.

Sandy Blackett is further away - but as Bursar he has had a huge task this year. He has provided the admin for the recruitment and the arrival of a new Rector; he pulls together the strings of a considerable number of improvement projects; he oversees financial monitoring and other information for the Court; he falls down holes, all but busts his ankle, limps two miles across moorland back to his car without a moan and misses just a couple of days at work even though his foot looks like a large blue haggis. His shoulders are broad indeed – but not infinitely broad, and I do hope that all here appreciate his enormous contribution to the Academy.

Finally, Head Ephor Barney Paton. Like all who have preceded him, he has had to tread a delicate path this year. He has been ambassador for the school, yet he has maintained friendships with pupils at all levels. He is a smiler by nature, an enthusiast and a participant, and I envy him his easy manner and his effortless good nature. I’m sure that he will have secured the passage to read Law at university, and am equally certain that he will make his own strong mark when he starts out on his career. Well played, Barney; you have been a terrific friend.

Farewells now – but before them, a thought for a colleague who should be here, but isn’t. Jenny Coutts is with her husband, Julian, a great friend of ours, who is very ill. We wish her and Julian and their daughters all the very best – and wish we could do more. Think of them in the next weeks; look after them, for they are gems, next year.

Unusually, we are saying good-bye to colleagues mostly of short duration. Wendy Boyd joined us in January to provide maternity cover for a colleague in the Modern Languages Department. She pitched in straightaway, got involved in her Department and in many other aspects of the school, and her willingness has been tremendous. I hope that she will find something more permanent in the near future, and perhaps that you will see her back here in years to come.

Steven Ashforth has done a full probation year in the Maths Department, and he too has been a great contributor. He has cared about his pupils, he has asked good standards and he has moved forward in fine fashion in his short stay. He has been offered a full time post at Stewart’s Melville, and I am sure that he will make an excellent impression having learned his trade willingly and well in the past three terms.

Leo Lane also finishes her time with us as part-time but very expert teacher of Spanish to small groups of senior pupils. Leo, thank you so much for your smile and your hard work, and for the elegance which you always maintain, even on a bicycle. A lady of real quality.

The baby-faced James Pillinger ends his second stint with us, for he was here from 1996-99 before being lured down to the douce south. Then he came back to Scotland, initially to Dollar Academy, before returning here in January 2007. Five terms later, he is off again, this time to a promoted post at Fettes, and his ambition is clearly to tick off every school in the British Isles before he is 21. We have really enjoyed his special enthusiasm and his care for all his pupils, whatever their ability; good luck to you, James. Please remember, when you go into the staff bar in your new school, don’t forget your ID.

Finally, one colleague moves away, but I hope not right away. Peter Backhouse is sitting here, and he won’t be at the 2009 Exhibition because he is taking, I hope just a year out, to pursue his own music and his individual teaching. I really don’t want to make this a farewell paragraph, because I hope fervently that the Academy will not lose a musician who is world class and a teacher who has the priceless ability to engage with young people. I wonder if you younger pupils realise, as you occasionally forget to observe commitments or lark around in his lessons, that this man is a master in every sense. Don’t let him go; Chairman, give him the Wayne Rooney treatment if necessary; but get him back after his break. Best of luck, Peter; to use your own words, it was quite good. There is no higher praise.

So, there it is, ladies and gentlemen. You’ve had the misery of a speech lasting about 18 minutes; Katy and I have had all the enjoyment of 13 years at the Academy. I know who had the better bargain. No sentimental sloshings from me; no farewell words of gravestone wisdom. Thank you, Katy, for all your support; great girl indeed – you deserve your own big round of applause – but now we’ve had our kick at the ball, and it’s time to hand the jersey to Marco Longmore. He’ll do a great job; he’s got a wonderful team to support him; and the school roll next year, in Junior and Senior Schools, `will be very healthy indeed as he sets out on his own journey. Good luck to him; special good luck to all who are leaving today; thank you to you all behind me, beside me and before me, for the friendships and for the achievements which we have seen during our time with you. It has been, quite simply, a huge amount of fun.