This morning, I’d like to tell you about six words that changed my life. Before I start, I realized after I’d written this, that it’s a moment that’s lived in my head, for 20 years, which I’ve never shared with anyone – but I share it with you, now. Once upon a time, I lived and worked in London. I commuted each day on the Central Line: that flat-lining red on the underground map that pierces the city’s smokey heart before bouncing a guilty getaway towards Essex. I’d survive my cramped and sweaty tube journeys with all the usual tricks: reading a book with my face in someone’s armpit; guessing what kind of a day the person next to me had, based on the state of their work clothes; and challenging myself, on the way home, to a game of nap-gamble: could I sleep for exactly long enough that I’d wake up in time not to miss my stop? It was high-stakes: my stop, Ealing Broadway, was the end of the line: missing it meant waking in a cold sweat to find that the train was already taking me back to work. One such ordinary journey home took place in the hot heights of Summer. I’d spent a very sweaty 45 minutes trying to read my book whilst squished unthinkably close to a man whose shirt – creased, untucked, and flecked with specks of broccoli and chocolate pot pudding – told of a particularly unfortunate day at the office canteen. At Ealing Broadway, the train expunged us all – apart from that day’s nap-gamble losers – and I emerged into the night with hundreds of others. Then my day changed. Flooding through the ticket barriers, I saw a man at the entrance to the station. He stood out immediately because he was boldly facing commuter deluge head on, like a fish swimming up-river. He was evidently hungry, homeless and begging for small change. I’d always been taught that the best way to help the homeless was not to give money directly, but to give to relevant charities – so I just looked at the man, slightly sheepishly, and said “sorry mate”. In a sudden, quiet, gently smiling blaze, his eyes fixed on mine as he said those six words : “At least you spoke to me.” At those words, something shifted in my head; I glimpsed in a flash how it might feel to be rejected by society; to be in the country’s busiest, most iconic city, yet washed over by a wave of a thousand commuters who look right past you. “At least you spoke to me”. Now I need to be clear here: I was a young adult, in my twenties, and I’m not suggesting you start speaking to strangers on the street: as young people, you should actively avoid doing this. But there’s a powerful principle here: to reach out to the vulnerable; to validate those on the edge; to show compassion to those others overlook – this you can do in all sorts of ways. Jesus was the master of it. Did you spot the odd details in our reading, as he meets the woman at the well? Collecting water in the Middle East 2000 years ago was done by women – but usually early in the morning (before it got too hot) and usually in groups, because it was a social high point of the day. But this woman is there at noon – blazing heat o’clock – and she’s alone. Why? If we read on, we’d find out: she’s an outcast, shunned by her community: “cancelled”, we might say today. Worse, she’s from a community that itself was excluded: Jesus’ community and this woman’s community were arch enemies. This conversation should never have happened. And yet here’s Jesus, reaching out to this outcast woman with six words of his own – “ Will you give me a drink?” The conversation changed her life. It’s not a one-off. We don’t have time for the full stories of Jesus reaching out to Zaccheus – the hated tax collector who Jesus went to tea with; or the countless times Jesus healed those whose medical conditions tragically made them outcasts; or the time a shunned woman crashed a party to pour perfume on Jesus’ feet, to be rebuked by the hosts, but welcomed by Jesus. Jesus never waited for any of them to be socially acceptable enough, or cool enough, or clever enough, or talented enough... Reaching out to the lost, the unseen, the excluded, exactly as they were, was Jesus’ whole mission, right up to what happened on the Cross. Romans 6:8: “For God showed his love for us in this: whilst we were still sinners, Christ died for us”; or 1 John 4:10: “This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us.” Jesus’ loving kindness is grace : not kindness that needs to be earned or qualified for; not “kindness because” – but “kindness anyway”. So what about you, today? You can choose your point of reflection – from Jesus’ loving grace in this Bible reading, to the moments in our friendship groups where we really annoy each other and it might be time for a bit of “kindness anyway”. Some of you might head for a lifetime of leadership and service where your career sees you reach across boundaries to care for the excluded who society chooses not to see and finds it hard to love. I hope so. But there’s something you can do today , too; and at the very least it will show you that I’ve been listening in recent assemblies. What would happen to our school if we took the “quiet leadership” that Rosie spoke of on Trafalgar Day, or the “bold compassion” that Ben spoke to us of on Wednesday, and multiplied them by the accumulation of marginal gains that Dr Clark endorsed week before? What would our doorways and corridors, our classrooms and study spaces, our changing rooms and practice rooms and our pitches and our palace, be like, if adorned with a thousand tiny daily expressions of “kindness anyway”? A thousand “at least you spoke to me” moments? That’s just one or two each, by the way. I see so much of this here already – but what if we all did it? What would happen then?  Well: let’s see, shall we? Because let me remind you where I started: I didn’t tell you, grandly and nobly, as I emerged from that stuffy train dabbing the sweat from my forehead, that I changed a man’s life at Ealing Broadway that day. No: I told you that he changed mine.

The Lower School’s Michaelmas Concert at the King’s Centre was a whirlwind of colour, confidence, and heart-melting musical performances. From plucky guitars to dreamy harp tones, the night showcased our wonderful young performers. The Guitar Ensemble set the tone with Corena Cracknell’s Bajito Samba, plucking their way through Latin rhythms with impressive focus. The toe-taps in the audience spread like a ripple—always a good sign—and the students handled the syncopations with style. Then the Infant Choir delivered a double bill full of charm - Orange and Yellow and Brown painted the autumn season with warm singing, followed by a wonderfully spirited Monster Stomp—suitably growly, adorably fierce, and 100% crowd-pleasing. Celebrating recent successes in the Concordia Recitals, 3 pupils were chosen to showcase their solo instruments starting with Moli Li on the keyboard, who dazzled with two Classical gems: Spiritoso by Clementi and Sonata in C Major by Kuhlau. Crisp phrasing, calm poise, and beautiful musicality. Next was the Reception Choir who took us to France with some traditional tunes: Un, Deux, Trois, Sur le pont d’Avignon and Frère Jacques. Delivered with bright eyes and sung entirely in French, each piece was sweeter than the last. The String Ensemble then took to the stage and brought a wider emotional palette, with Golden from K-Pop Demon Hunters—a sleek, modern contrast to the rest of the programme. Their expressive playing continued through every bar, showcasing impressive maturity for such young string players and also highlighting some impressive solo playing from Phoenix on the Violin and Max on the Cello. Another of our Concordia recitalists, Harpist Georgia Cornell Du Houx offered a serene contrast with Jeremiah Clarke’s Chaconne before filling the hall with glistening textures in The Flower Duet by Delibes. A truly magical moment—audiences leaned in as if the Harp itself was casting a spell. The Lower 2 Little Voices group lived up to their name and lit up the stage with Happy Song —a bright, bouncy number complete with air guitars! A real crowd pleaser! Our final Concordia pupil Betsy, played with crisp articulation and elegant control on the keyboard, bringing Germaine Tailleferre’s Sonata “All Scarlatti” to life with stylish flair, followed by a tender and lyrical rendition of Alexis Ffrench’s Last Song. A beautifully balanced pairing. Moving into pop territory, the School Choir delivered a heartfelt version of the classic Time After Time with some beautifully blended harmonies and a spirited version of the Foo Fighters’ Learn to Fly. Voices were warm and full, and their enthusiasm was nothing short of infectious. Closing the evening with poise, the Chamber Choir offered a beautifully controlled performance of The Water is Wide, followed by the up-tempo Scottish Riddle - full of tongue twisting brilliance! A perfect finale to a wonderful evening of music making. From thundering tiny monsters to shimmering harp lines, the Lower School Michaelmas Concert was a glorious showcase of talent and pure joy. Whether it was a first stage appearance or a seasoned young musician polishing their craft, every performer contributed to a heart-warming evening that left families beaming and teachers glowing with pride.

On Tuesday 19 November, an author called Dave Rudden came to the Blake Studio to tell us about being an author and how we could become one too! He talked about his latest book called ‘Conn of the Dead’ as well as well his trilogy of books called ‘Knights of the Borrowed Dark’. The trilogy is about a 13-year-old boy who is slowly turning into iron and ends up saving the world. He also talked about his family and friends. He told us one of his friends head-butted a Darth Vader actor, saying to his parents “run, save yourselves!” It was really funny! After lunch, I learned some pointers about how to write a story. Dave taught us about ‘person, place, problem’. This means first deciding on your character and their features. After that, decide on the setting or place, where and what it looks like. Finally, you should decide on a problem for the characters to face, for example, defeating some monsters. He said to add in the others details slowly as you go. We practiced writing a story using this method. I most enjoyed the afternoon when Dave was teaching us about being an author and when he gave us a copy of his most recent book! I hadn’t considered being an author, but Dave has inspired me to try! By Henry Bulman U3I