“At Tallis, everyone dances.”

When Jon Nicholls reached out to me on Facebook to ask if I'd like to contribute to the Tallis Tales, he wrote that he often says this to visitors. This not only brought a smile to my face, but took me very much back to 1993 and the first time I danced at Tallis...

Reading many of these Tales, what truly comes out is the spirit and heart centre of the school, often naming individual teachers who, quite literally, changed lives.

There were many during my time in which I can say truly impacted my life - our year head Tim Joyce, who led with compassion, laughter, music and the best kind of tough love. Our Head Teacher Colin Yardley, who 'quietly' offered a safe space for the LGBTQ+ kids at the school to meet one another under the guidance and supervision of the school counselor (in the 90's, there were still a few dusty and very dangerous Thatcher laws in place, Section 28 being one of them, which 'forbid' the 'promotion of homosexuality' by local authorities). That 'safe space', which we named 'The Library Club', was our saviour. Around 10 of us would meet up once per week, and a bond and support network was created that I'm sure must have saved lives. We remained friends for years (reunion time??).

The teacher which planted the seed for what would end up becoming my career, was Deborah Khan.

​‘Boys Dance’, read the flyer for an after-school activity. Ms Khan wanted to remove the stigma surrounding boys who dance. There I found my love of movement and creativity, and I also choreographed my first work here, at the grand old age of 12. In addition to the Boys group, we often had dance for PE (I hope this still continues... it was quite rare back in the day!) and professional companies that were performing locally at Greenwich Dance Agency would be invited to come to Tallis and give workshops. I was so inspired.

Ms Khan was a bit of a rebel pioneer (that's how I remember her!) with her plans for the performing arts at Tallis, and in 1995 she staged a school production of Cabaret. I remember it being so brilliant, with a touch of scandalous excitement! I played a bisexual dancer in the Kit Kat Club. At 13. In the 90's. Brilliant 🙂

I was not the only one that Deb Khan encouraged and saw potential in. That same tiny school production of Cabaret included Dominic Cooper and Sam Spruell, who are both Hollywood stars today.

That same year, she took a few of us to Sadler's Wells Theatre to see the inaugural premiere season of Matthew Bourne's all male Swan Lake. Deb had trained at Laban Centre with Bourne, so she pulled a few strings. This performance changed my life. I never knew you could fly like that. The feelings I had when I left the theatre I shall never forget. I thought to myself, 'That's what I want to do'.

Five years later, in 2000, Matthew Bourne invited me to join the cast of Swan Lake. I was an original cast member his production of The Car Man.

In 2010, I was awarded the Sadler's Wells Global Dance Prize, given to one choreographer per year.

These two moments, and the career I continue to enjoy today, were only possible because of Tallis.

-- Ihsan Rustem

The habits and characteristics we teach at Tallis are, at face value, obviously good. Imagination changes the world and honesty is proverbially the best policy. But what when they go wandering? What when imagination leads to suspicion or paranoia, or honesty leads to hurt and lingering distrust? It is possible to model nuance, and fine distinction, or just to be glib?Some colleagues and I had a sit-down last week to clear the air. We’d found ourselves singing a bit disharmoniously from a range of hymn sheets and this had led me to an outburst of asperity. We decided honestly to air it all in the hope of moving on united by our commitment to the Tallis cause. The meeting was long but productive and we all felt better afterwards. As the next crisis was already waiting impatiently in the wings stamping its hooves and hissing a bit, it was just as well. We’d mended the roof during a lull in the storm and commended ourselves nicely on our construction and constructiveness.   
 
This little summit came between a formal procedures including an interview for Deputy Head. Unlike the sit-down, both of these come with fancy structures to support, validate and protect correct and complicated decision-making. In both processes, some people are made happier by the outcome and others are made unhappy. It is difficult to get this quite right, so the formalities and conventions help, giving a language wherein honesty may nest.

And at the same time, I’ve been listening to the most extraordinary podcast. It’s about the Trojan Horse affair. For readers in far posterity, this was a letter alleging wrongdoing in Birmingham schools that led to the imposition of the bizarre fabrication known as ‘Fundamental British Values’ upon us all.  Who wrote the letter, why, what it meant or whether it was true are still largely unknown. There were inquiries, reports, disbarrings and sackings, but no real statement was ever given – and if the podcasters are right, justice is yet to be served. Yet the application of the controversy to schooling has changed the tone for a generation of schools and school leaders. It would be good to know the truth, that the knock-on wasn’t purely political exploitation. Without it, imagination is left to its own devices to the detriment of our national life, wrecking what we used to call community coherence. 

And in the papers and on the ground a thousand and a half miles away, the war rages in Ukraine. Does Putin lack the imagination to see the world as it is now? Or does he imagine it would be better with a Greater Russia, soviet-style but without the soviets? Our children at Tallis have walked for Ukraine so that that they may express despair for the children there.
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Closer to home, the story of Child Q and her appalling treatment at the hands of those whom the state pay to protect her. We simultaneously sentimentalise and demonise children in this thoughtless country.  Was no one, in school or police station, able to say ‘Honestly, that’s not right. This is a child.’? Are our agents unable to imagine themselves or their own children in that position? Our children at Tallis have stood in solidarity for Child Q so they may express despair for her, and for themselves.

Thomas Tallis survived a dreadful time in English history, of religious wars, summary executions and blood feuds.  We know so little about him that imagination must lead to speculation. How did he survive? He probably stayed true to the Roman church and he probably hid it, daily. Does that count as dishonesty? What did he imagine he was doing? Or was survival his only priority? Tallis’s polyphony - different voices making glorious harmony and so on - is a gift to any cheesy assembly-giver.  Tallis’s Canon is a lovely exercise in continuity and trust in those who follow after you, also useful for assemblies and other occasions for uplift. His most famous piece, however, takes more unpicking.

In its early days, possibly due to the rather unfortunate reputation of the Ferrier Estate which was on its doorstep, Tallis was certainly not the flavour of the month. However, by the 90s, according to National league tables, it was considered to be in the top 200 schools in the country, at least for A-Level. How did this ‘bog standard comprehensive’ in SE London attain such pre-eminence? No doubt the headteachers: Beryl Hussein, Colin Yardley, Nick Williams, Rob Thomas and more recently Carolyn Roberts, and key Deputies – Allen Skuse, Agatha Maguire (who sadly passed away so young), Spyros Elia and Rosemary Leeke, all helped set a tone and create an environment where teachers and pupils could thrive. However I am sure that they would all say that it was everyone - all teachers, pupils, support staff, even the building itself that helped make and ensure that Tallis was a very special place. While always maintaining respect for others, Tallis was an institution that had a clear sense of confidence in itself, its identity and practices, and this led to creative innovation, self belief and solid teaching, and dedication that demanded the best from its teachers and pupils. There was envy around. I once heard a teacher from another school say in a public meeting, “Oh, Tallis, you have to be a girl with a double barrelled name, play the cello and live on the Cator Estate to go there”. And such myths were marvellous because the facts were quite different. Indeed as SENCo, each year, I organised reading age tests for all incoming pupils, and generally at least 75% of the year were at, or more usually below, their actual age. Obviously as a local comprehensive we had no say regarding entrants, even our own children. Lewis was initially 93rd on the waiting list. Only the parents of Statemented children had that right and many, many used it, no doubt attracted by the overall success of the school and because Special Needs had a very good reputation. The school was the first in London to gain the prestigious ‘Basic Skills Agency Quality Mark’. Also, the Local Authority chose Tallis as the home for the Speech and Language and Hearing Impaired Units.
 
So success must have been due to the practices developed once students arrived. The old school was crumbling but not in spirit! There was a clear sense that both the pastoral and the academic – the whole child – were important. Great emphasis was given to extracurricular activities - after all, if you ask a student about memories it is usually what went on outside the classroom that first comes to mind. For myself, I am very proud that as football manager for the older students I managed to get to a few London Cup Finals, including beating private schools on the way, and winning the competition later became the norm under Richard Ankar. Also, when I moved into Debating after an invite from a competition the day after I was sacked as Football manager by the inimitable Terry Richards (after a couple of sendings off and the worst refereeing display I had ever witnessed, including a goal being disallowed for offside after our captain, in his anger at decisions, had dribbled from just outside our penalty box past every one of the opposition team and put the ball in their net). Not only did we win various debating competitions but we were also asked to represent London in Paris as part of the Entente Cordiale celebrations.  Various public schools requested that we join their Debating League. Turning up to compete at Westminster School will be remembered by us all as one the scariest moments of our lives. John Bradshaw’s generosity of spirit also led to us to representing the school in a discussion group at 10, Downing Street for a meeting with Tony Blair and George Brown. Wow!
 
For a mixed comprehensive to be successful it has to ensure that all abilities want to go there and that it maintains a healthy mix of girls and boys. Colin was brilliant in managing to get middle class parents to demand and trust Tallis instead of sending their children to private or selective schools, of which there are many locally. This was achieved not only by going on a ‘Ferrier Watch’ every lunchtime and chasing after any miscreants, but also emphasising the importance of Art, Drama, English and Music, ably assisted by people such as Howard Nicholson, Cath Barton, Geraldine O’Mahoney and Keith Lark, in leading their subject teachers; too many people to mention, all brilliant. Speaking of Colin, as a ‘Gooner’ I always saw him as George Graham, with Nick Williams as Arsene Wenger – keeping up the great defence but with a bit more style. Indeed the old school could be seen as Highbury, without the grandeur, and the new build as The Emirates. It looks good but perhaps something is missing.
 
Some stories:

When every teacher left they were given a farewell speech and if they had been there for a couple of years they were expected to reply with their own. When Colin left it was a bit more special… far more song and dance, including a rendition of ‘Love Letters’… In the breaks I read out, totally flat and without dramatics, words from the many disciplinary letters he gave to me. I don’t think anyone could fully understand why I got so many. One was because I had been absent – in fact I did not have a day’s absence for more than 22 years. On the day in question I had organised paternity leave anyway; however, sadly, on that day, my mother died… and yet there was his disciplinary letter! But I loved the man.
 
A few more words about The Pavilion. It was the on-site unit for pupils who were struggling, or creating struggles in the classroom. One boy ‘just’ came to the unit for drama. That subject ruined his entire week. Another could not face any ‘normal’ lessons. Each student had their own reasons, their own stories. I came with quite a therapeutic, psychoanalytical background, and it was interesting to introduce these approaches both in the 'Pav' and in training sessions in the school. I grew to be doubtful about the convergence of therapy and teaching, but it was really fascinating at the time. There was only one pupil who frightened me in over 45 years of working with young people. I interviewed them all on entry to the Pavilion. He sat so tightly, saying nothing. I was quite fearful that he might suddenly explode and attack me. My dog Charlie came in and rested by him. I was very afraid for my dog. The boy did not move and did not respond to my words. Charlie’s head rested next to his knee. This seemed to go on forever, and then the boy’s hand moved and he started stroking Charlie. Symbolically he was joining the group, and Charlie had done all the sophisticated work.