Vivat et memoria,
Nobis in aeternum,
Magni sint honores.
Having recently attended the 109th Old Bancroftian’s Annual Dinner Party, it was nice to have met familiar faces and teachers, and a shame to find out that current headmistress Mrs Ireland would be retiring at the end of this academic year. It was a good time, even with a few too many drinks; the salt cod “cappuccino” starter was really fishy (in a good way!), the lamb was nice and pink in the middle, and a sickly chocolate pudding finished the meal. The night was full of banter and everyone was glad to see some old faces.
If there was one thing that I didn’t do, it was properly singing the Bancroft’s School song – to be exact, I was lip-synching.
Blasphemous! Heresy! One could go on…
This was a foolish decision and one which could be considered to be a kick in the teeth. I feel that I’ve let down the teachers who I saw again – the ones who managed to make my horrible Sixth Form life a little bit more bearable until the end. I’ve always been a believer of actions speaking louder than words so I’m not going to excuse myself for what I did.
Unfortunately, I feel very detached from Bancroft’s School; for me, an Old Bancroftian is a label which I can’t say I’m 100% proud of. It is with great sadness that I was more than eager to leave after enduring a torrid Sixth Form marred with depression, and I rushed off to university, which helped me regain most of the confidence I had lost. I can, however, look back at previous years (up to GCSEs) with some fondness.
In the near future, I will sing Floreat Bancroftia, but not because I’m proud of being a Bancroftian. I will sing it for the individual teachers who actually wanted me to get through the mess and do well in the future. I feel that this is a fitting tribute to make up for some of the things that have happened, and maybe one day I will get that moment which reminds me to be proud of being an Old Bancroftian.