Keeping the Faith

John Dunston, Headmaster of Leighton Park School, explores the changing role of faith in schools and asks - what exactly is a 'faith school'?

'Step into the small confessional,
There the guy who's got religion'll
Tell you if your sin's original.'

At the time that tom lehrer sang words like those back in the Sixties ('The Vatican Rag'), it was a very different world. More irreverent, perhaps, less PC. Was it a world of stronger faith, or not? And what part did schools and education generally play in answering that question? Political ideas come and go in education. Teachers who serve for long enough (and new legislation should help to increase that number over time) often recognize initiatives being re-introduced that were already in place when they began their careers and that have since spent many years out in the cold. 'We've come full circle', 'We've been here before', 'If you wait long enough, everything comes round again' - these are the familiar refrains. Is it the same with the faith schools that seem to dominate so much of the education debate today? And what, precisely, is a 'faith school'?

We accept education in our society as a right for all young people. The introduction of even the idea of free and universal education represents a giant leap, if not yet for all of mankind, at least for large parts of it. Expectations have certainly changed in England since the time when schooling ended in one's early teens, and of course much more fundamentally since the age when it was provided solely by the church, which managed the dissemination of knowledge and had the enormous advantage of technology at its disposal. But what a vision that was: institutions that became known as schools, set up by the religious authorities to educate the young, literally to 'lead them out' from darkness to light, helping them to pick up much Latin on the way. Were these 'faith schools'?

Turning to our own age but elsewhere on the planet, we have heard frequently, and particularly since 7th July 2005, of institutions abroad - Pakistan is often mentioned in this connection - which young Moslems from England have attended and where, ostensibly in the name of religion, they are alleged to have been taught attitudes harmful to the West and to the society in which they have grown up. Are these 'faith schools'? Our informed knowledge is scant, but we judge easily. We spend far too little time trying to understand the mindset of 'the other', or putting current politics and events into their historical context. The significance of that failing will be referred to later.

Perhaps neither of the above models springs to mind when we use the term 'faith schools' in this country in our day. We think perhaps of a local school known to us personally, which includes something like 'Church of England' or 'Catholic' or 'Voluntary Aided' in its title; we might also think of schools named after saints, which today may or may not have a religious ethos determining their identity; or our first thought might be of the public schools - independent schools - that in many cases have foundations inextricably linked to one of the major religious denominations. So this is not a private/maintained schools debate. It goes to the heart of the vision that this country has for its future, since the long, transitional, post-imperial period of history in which we fi nd ourselves just now sees an undeniably multi-faith population living in a state where the monarch is head of the established church, religion (under whatever name) is 'taught' in almost all schools, yet the steep decline continues in attendance at places or worship, and even in overt attachment to a particular religious denomination. It is a paradox that at this time, faith schools are so much on our minds. Are they seen as somehow a way to save the nation and restore its spirituality? Or is it just that their pupils are perceived to get better exam results? (How mundane and demeaning would that be?)

The experience of Northern Ireland is enlightening in this context. 'The Troubles' are fortunately already a part of recent history, even though the process of establishing a new political framework is predictably tortuous. The terms 'Catholic' and 'Protestant' have a particular resonance in Northern Ireland, and each group has its own schools, which overtly help to educate the young - their young - in the ways of the faith as they see it. It could be argued that this segregation has only served to perpetuate the hatred and prejudice that have characterized relations for so many decades; the churches would argue that only by offering an education based on their understanding of the truth can the faith be successfully passed on to the next generation. A rock and a hard place: a tough position for faith schools.

There has been an experiment to fi nd an alternative. The integrated schools movement has existed now for many years, without much support, if any, from the major churches. This is understandable, for the integrated schools have exactly equal numbers of Catholic and Protestant pupils and teachers; exactly the same number of Protestant and Catholic visiting speakers and clergy; and exactly equal treatment of all issues relating to religion. Thousands of young people have now grown up with real friendships from across the divide, and with a better understanding of each others' perspectives on this most divisive of issues. A new generation is bringing new approaches to dialogue, even to questions of intermarriage, and certainly to the quality of respect that can lead ultimately to peaceful co-existence. Genuine faith schools? Maybe, but completely at odds with the educational vision and aims of the mother religion. As a result, the integrated schools movement remains small and vulnerable, however forward-looking it might be.

Who actually goes to faith schools? The proportion of pupils whose families are adherents of the denomination represented by any individual school varies now from 100% to signifi cantly under half. Under half? So what is the big attraction? Again, this is not an issue of difference between independent and maintained schools, since the figures are the same in both sectors. Clearly, there exists a perception among large numbers of parents that schools which have an ethos linked to a faith, or a religion, or in some way offer an intangible extra over and above the taught curriculum, are likely to give their children something valuable, perhaps indefinable, but certainly of lifelong value. Perhaps it's something those parents feel unable to give at home, if religious faith is not a defining factor in their lives but they have nothing against it. Perhaps, judging the schools on paradoxically secular criteria such as exam results, attendance records, or reputation for good discipline, they are perceived to be 'better' schools. The question is then begged: are those good qualities the direct result of the school's link with a faith organization, or at least with a faith?

The recent survey of primary and secondary Headteachers carried out by Education Guardian and EdComs has shown that 47% of those who replied to the questionnaire felt that the number of faith schools should decrease, or at least not increase; 32% wanted no change; and only 9% supported the Government's policy of increasing the number of faith schools. The anticipated worries about spreading fundamentalism were voiced, as well as concern over the integrity of admissions policies (the 'sudden convert' syndrome). In addition, almost half the Heads replying thought the presence of schools with a religious character actively contributed to less tolerance in society, while a quarter thought the opposite. The recent fi asco over the proposed 25% quota of pupils who were to belong to faiths other than the faith of the school showed just how muddled the issue has become, and how difficult to defi ne what a faith school is, and what it is for.

My own experience is as a Head successively of two Quaker schools, though I am not a Quaker. My background is Jewish, and indeed only one of the seven Quaker schools in England now has a Quaker Head. The proportion of Quaker pupils and staff at the schools is very small indeed: approximately 90% of pupils and an even higher proportion of staff are probably from different religious or non-religious backgrounds. Yet they are undeniably faith schools, where the diverse communities are brought together in a spirit of equality in the silence of worship, where we seek to respond always to 'that of God' in each other, and where we recognize that insight and truth may be found in many different religious traditions. They are a model of a faith school, not the only one, but, as The Independent recently wrote - 'schools that have a moral compass but without the dogma'.

And elsewhere? What does the term 'faith school' mean in, say, the United States, or Iran, or France, or China? If we think it's tricky here, we might refl ect that at least we are wrestling with the idea, knowing deep down that a free society must offer the opportunity for engagement with spiritual values, despite the awful lessons of history that we seem unable to heed. It need not lead to prejudice and violence and persecution. Perhaps we must be patient for a little longer.

And meanwhile, let's keep the tolerance that could allow Tom Lehrer, the American university mathematics teacher, nearly two generations ago, to poke gentle fun at all our religious establishments.

John Dunston is the Headmaster of Leighton Park School, Reading.
This article first appeared in the Spring 2007 issue of Attain.