I tried to leave the teaching profession several times in my early twenties but somehow (by twist of fate) landed a job at one of Britain’s top schools - Millfield. Renowned for breeding Olympic athletes and educating the children of famous Hollywood stars (such as Elizabeth Taylor), it had more of the atmosphere of a university campus. Any fresher at Millfield would be asked on their first day ‘Who are you?’. It was no ordinary school and catered for the very rich and also very bright and the majority of its 200 or so tutors were ex university dons or ex international sportsmen. David Hemery the Olympic hurdler was a teaching colleague and so too was the grandson of Leo Tolstoy. I shared a chalet on Glastonbury Tor for a brief period with the Great Britain badminton champion Phil Scott. Duncan Goodhew was in the sixth form, so too Sean Connery's daughter and the world golf champion Arnold Palmer's son admitted to me two years later on the day he left that he was not actually Arnold Palmer's son, despite looking the splitting image! This was a unique school, the teaching ratio was six to one and students thanked you after each lesson.
So where did I fit in? Not very well as I struggled to hold my own in the staffroom amongst so many academics and celebrities and so I escaped to the scruffy workshop where I taught “Carpentry” and a few interested 'loner' students would join me during tea breaks. It was a converted garage belonging to Jack ("Boss") Meyer who founded the school in 1936 and was about to retire. ‘They seem to like you lad’ he muttered in a Yorkshire accent when the school prefect singled me out and led me to his study at the end of my interview ’Do you know who said that? I shrugged my shoulders. ‘Wilfrid Pickles’ he said. Astutely he then said ‘Well have a think about it and let me know withinin a couple of weeks’.
Back at the Bristol Secondary Modern where woodwork was top of the school curriculum my colleagues told me I would be mad to turn down a job like this but the truth is 'Carpentry' was a wet weather subject at Millfield. Now few people got to teach there without offering a sport so I bluffed my way for a while coaching trampolining on the bare credential of gaining my college colours at gymnastics. There were only four of us in the Gymnastics club at Shoreditch college!
At 23 I was the youngest tutor at Millfield and in retrospect, seeing how good looking I was (I didn't realize it then), it was little wonder the 19 year old South American head girl flirted with me (telling me she was lonely) and she and her equally beautiful friend, the film star Stanley Baker's daughter courted my company in the evenings when I was renovating my workshop to make it fit for teaching. The only power tool was an old Wolf DIY drillstand. This was the most expensive school in Europe and I was passionate about woodwork!
The truth is I felt excruciatingly lonely, stirred by these gorgeous young women and felt academically inferior in the staffroom as nobody valued my subject except the students who were taken from me daily to do other more important subjects. It all came to a head in the winter of 1970.
I had my first major nervous breakdown and tried to take an overdose. My guardian uncle Patrick immediately flew down from Scotland to see the new headmaster Colin Atkinson, and I mustered up just enough energy to drive up to my 'home', his Scottish estate, to convalesce. My aunt could not understand how this good looking talented young man with everything going for him could suffer like this. But I think it was my 'missing gene' rearing its ugly head.
To my surprise Millfield held my job open and paid my salary until the end of the academic year. It was a remarkable gesture as I had only taught a term there. It was nobody's fault. I returned to teach a further year out of appreciation to the school and requested to my doctor in Scotland that a good psychiatrist could be found in Bristol to keep an eye on me and I found lodgings with a vicar and his family in Chewton Mendip, half way between Millfield and Bristol. After the agreed year I threw my cards to the winds and became a self-employed woodworker - or should I say 'carpenter'. I was invited to help set up a nearby Crafts Commune called The Dove Centre of Creativity, the first of its kind in Britain.
A short extract from 'Missing Jean' by Jeremy Broun
Jeremy Broun in his early twenties with one of is many minis
At 23 I was the youngest tutor at Millfield and in retrospect, seeing how good looking I was (I didn't realize it then), it was little wonder the 19 year old South American head girl flirted with me (telling me she was lonely) and she and her equally beautiful friend, the film star Stanley Baker's daughter courted my company in the evenings when I was renovating my workshop to make it fit for teaching. The only power tool was an old Wolf DIY drillstand. This was the most expensive school in Europe and I was passionate about woodwork!
The truth is I felt excruciatingly lonely, stirred by these gorgeous young women and felt academically inferior in the staffroom as nobody valued my subject except the students who were taken from me daily to do other more important subjects. It all came to a head in the winter of 1970.
I had my first major nervous breakdown and tried to take an overdose. My guardian uncle Patrick immediately flew down from Scotland to see the new headmaster Colin Atkinson, and I mustered up just enough energy to drive up to my 'home', his Scottish estate, to convalesce. My aunt could not understand how this good looking talented young man with everything going for him could suffer like this. But I think it was my 'missing gene' rearing its ugly head.
To my surprise Millfield held my job open and paid my salary until the end of the academic year. It was a remarkable gesture as I had only taught a term there. It was nobody's fault. I returned to teach a further year out of appreciation to the school and requested to my doctor in Scotland that a good psychiatrist could be found in Bristol to keep an eye on me and I found lodgings with a vicar and his family in Chewton Mendip, half way between Millfield and Bristol. After the agreed year I threw my cards to the winds and became a self-employed woodworker - or should I say 'carpenter'. I was invited to help set up a nearby Crafts Commune called The Dove Centre of Creativity, the first of its kind in Britain.
A short extract from 'Missing Jean' by Jeremy Broun
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