News & Events

Deep in the summer holiday, my dishwasher broke down. It started beeping maniacally, relentlessly and making a deep, unhealthy gurgling sound. We are dependent on technology in so many aspects of our lives, it is frustrating when that dependency is abruptly cut off. An August of suds and rubber gloves was an unwelcome prospect.  I have little skill to fix mechanical things. Very little. Faced with this problem, I thought I’d turn to someone - or some thing - in my household that might help: my own intelligence fell short so I thought I’d see if Artificial Intelligence could assist me in my predicament. Could one machine fix the other? I fed the symptoms of my dishwasher’s distress into the Large Language Model, Google Gemini. ‘What should I do?’ I asked it, pathetically. It quickly diagnosed the problem: water was trapped in an inaccessible part of the machine. Now, I do own an assortment of under-used screwdrivers; with a flash of inspiration, I suggested that I could unscrew some prominent screws at the bottom of the dishwasher. ‘No!’. Gemini advised me. Sensibly, it told me to not do that under any circumstances or I would break the thing forever. Screwdriver hanging limply in my hand, my exchange with Gemini continued… You will know Artificial Intelligence is the subject of much debate. Some claim, optimistically, that it will revolutionise human life for the better, solving difficult problems and removing drudgery. On the other hand, some claim unrestrained AI development could lead to the extinction of humanity. That would, at least, solve the dishwashing problem. For those of us in schools, the emergence of generative AI poses a challenge to the purpose of education; it can now do many of the tasks that have, until now, been the preserve of humans. Put simply: AI can – efficiently – find any information, read and summarise a text, write fluent and polished prose, offer instantaneous translation, complete every part of a mathematical or scientific problem, and generate music or art in any genre. Is it, therefore, still important to learn to do these things for ourselves. Before Easter, I asked senior year groups for their views on AI. I am grateful to the 400 in U5 and above who responded with eloquence, supported by their experiences. Whilst many noted positives - that AI can bring efficiencies – it was notable that the majority expressed concern, frustration or even anger about the impact that AI may continue to have. Some cited environmental concerns, or problems of biased, deepfake or hallucinated information. Many noted that AI can compromise academic integrity and enable cheating. A majority expressed concern that dependence on AI may result in people losing the ability to think critically or independently. This view is increasingly supported by hard evidence. A study by MIT in the USA last year indicated that dependence on AI for essay writing resulted in students having a much shallower understanding of the subject, weakening their critical thinking and formation of long-term memory. A recent Chinese study of 27,000 students found the exam performance of those who used AI for their regular work was worse than those who did not. Many of you said you are confused about what is permitted and that the school has not given sufficient guidance. That’s a fair point. The answer is not simple, but I can set out some broad principles. Firstly, in the age of AI, the cultivation of your intelligence and creativity remains an intrinsic good. Intellectual and creative effort has value. Even if AI can do a task, we should be interested in developing our own learning for its own sake; to encounter astonishing new things that change us as human beings. To let you into a secret: when I set a history essay to a class, it isn’t because I actually need 25 copies of that essay. It is because the process of producing the essay develops your learning. Efficiency in production is not the goal of education. Learning requires your brain to work hard and you can’t bypass that difficulty or offload it onto someone or something else. It would be analogous to repeatedly driving a car for 26 miles in the expectation that you will be fit and prepared to run a marathon. Secondly, if AI is used, it should be to support learning, not undermine it. There are AI tools that can be powerful in helping to develop thinking and your teachers may introduce these to you. But their use should not circumvent intellectual effort that is a necessary part of learning. Thirdly, we recognise the growing importance of AI literacy; as the technology becomes embedded into our lives, it is essential that we understand its capabilities and limitations, as well as ethical questions that are raised in a world where AI may become ubiquitous. Mr Fisher has done pioneering work on this with his Fifth Form Elective course and I look forward to working with Lawrence Doe on his red gown project to develop how we do this further. Finally, AI must not diminish our humanity or our relationships in this community. The ‘real’ matters and it was clear in your feedback that many of you are repelled by AI-generated material that is synthetic or impersonal. In particular, you felt strongly that if you put time, effort and love into something, that you want it recognised and considered by a teacher, not assessed by a machine. As with all technology, AI should remain a tool in service to our needs. Dependency on technology for intellectual tasks – tasks much greater or more complex than washing dishes - runs the risk that we become incapable. So, what was the resolution of my dialogue with Google Gemini? It concluded – firmly - that I should step away from the dishwasher, lay down my screwdriver, and call out a mechanic; a real person with the knowledge and skills – the human intelligence - required. When he arrived, he sorted the problem within 15 minutes. I could return – sheepishly - to my dependency on the machine.

I was glad when they said to me, ‘Let us go to the house of the Lord!’ (Psalm 122:1) We’ve been in the cathedral a fair bit since term started. I want to start with a question for you to think about, whether you’re new here or whether you’ve been around for a while: How many different ways into the cathedral do you think there are? When you came in this morning, you had a choice of two doorways – the two west corners at the back. On the first day of term, for a bit of pomp and ceremony, we opened the main west doors to allow a procession in and out. There are other ways in through the gift shop; or through the north or south transepts. All the way up at the east end there’s a door that leads from Edith Cavell’s grave outside to the inside of the military chapel. There used to be a suspended walkway from upstairs in the Bishop’s Palace across to the first floor level in here to save the bishop getting rained on. I’m actually not sure myself how many ways into Norwich Cathedral there are now. If you know the answer – or if at some point you have a spare ten minutes to walk round the building counting the doorways – perhaps you could let me know. Many years ago, before I lived and worked in Norwich, before I was even a priest, I visited Norwich Cathedral with a group of year 6 children from South London. They were in Norfolk on their week-long school journey to experience something different to their usual. I don’t remember which door we came in that day. But I do remember that I was a bit concerned about one of the pupils in the group. His name was Daniel. He was the naughty one. I was worried he was going to find the cathedral boring and start messing around. As it turned out, I was completely wrong. We started our tour in the cloisters – the outdoors space on the south side surrounded by walkways and pillars. Our guide was a retired teacher who guessed that, before we saw the stained glass windows or the bishop’s cathedra, we might like to see a game played by the monks who originally lived here. It was a very simple game – the monks would stand on the ledges in the cloisters and swing round the pillars like apes. (We know that they did this because their feet wore grooves into the stone that you can still see today.) Our guide had already spotted Daniel, and he asked him to demonstrate swinging round the pillars. Sure enough, Daniel’s feet naturally fitted into the grooves as he moved. From that moment, he was fascinated. I think partly because he simply wasn’t expecting there to be fun in the cathedral. But with the help of the guide, Daniel found his own way into this place. Later we were shown some hidden medieval graffiti. Right in the middle of it we happened to find Daniel’s initials, carved by someone centuries ago. It was wonderful to watch Daniel feeling like he belonged here. However many literal doorways there are, I hope you can all find your own figurative way into this cathedral. If you have some kind of a maths brain, the physics and the proportions around us are extraordinary. A while ago Dr Leeder gave an assembly on how many Smarties you can fit in this space. Let the numbers inspire you. If you’re someone who likes Art and Design, there’s no shortage of craftmanship in here that you can get up close to. It’s not all in the past; even today you might see a modern stonemason winching a block of stone up the scaffolding outside to repair centuries of rain and wind erosion. Be inspired by the necessary work of people who are really good at 3D Design. If you’ve just started a course in Psychology, ask yourself why human beings are motivated to begin buildings like this in the first place. The first ever Bishop of Norwich, buried at the east end, was consumed by shame and guilt; he began the construction of this cathedral as a penance. Just about everything we teach is represented: languages, like Latin and a little Anglo-Norman; or poetry, written on the walls; or music, of course; or history, in bucketloads. It’s all here, waiting for you to spot something that catches your interest, and which will take you further in. What is generally true in education is true here: there are many ways in. Just choose your doorway. I want to close by reading part of an email that I got from an ON recently. This is someone who has been away from Norwich School for two decades and now lives in Australia; these are his recollections. Looking back, it is quite remarkable that a load of teenagers meet in the cathedral in the morning… I barely noticed how unusual this was at the time, but the very act of starting the day within an enormous, time-tested cathedral and singing together has by itself a very unifying and edifying effect. When catching up with my peers occasionally, one repeated theme that emerges is how we miss the sense of the transcendent that pervaded school life in the cathedral close. It's so easy to become busied up with urban life and work… longing for meaning and fullness and forgetting where it comes from. You may know that on this date 25 years ago – the 11th September 2001, or 9/11 – there was an attack on the World Trade Center in New York and the Pentagon in Washington which sent shock waves around the globe. We keep this anniversary in mind as we come to our prayer for this morning, which is the Benedictine Prayer for Peace. Benedictine prayer for peace We would like to be people of peace; to walk the paths of peace our whole life long, and to lead others into the ways of peace. May there be peace in our hearts, peace in our homes, peace in our sorely troubled world. May we be peace-makers, ready to take the first step in ending bitterness, being the first to hold out our hands in friendship and forgiveness. May peace, grace and love permeate our daily living. In the fullness of time, may we know the reward of being peacemakers.