Reflections on a Royal Visit

Now that the event has passed, I am finding trying to write something about it unexpectedly difficult, and disconcertingly depressing. Certainly it counts as one of the few times, if not the only one, where knowing that I was representing the school filled me with more shame than pride.

If this is coming across as melodramatic, then that has been one of the problems with the whole affair. Questions over the sincerity of my concerns, as well as the nonchalance with which the majority of the school went along with everything, have formed a key element of my frustrations. I really am proud of my school. I thought we were the epitome of a liberal educational establishment, fighting to provide equality of opportunity, not caring who you are, or where you came from. By chance or design, I was in a school whose values I both shared and cared deeply about.

Except that on that one day, it did not feel like that at all. With the lower sixth in the standing upright in perfect silence in the Winterflood theatre, awaiting the entrance of the princess, so that she could be the first to sit down and enjoy all of the five minutes of the play she was going to watch, I could only feel embarrassment that my school was giving such a ludicrous level of respect to such a figure. Apparently our school is so confident in its pupils that the best way to showcase our talent is through a mixture of highly artificial demonstrations, and trying to keep the students out of sight. And also with a second plaque in the concourse to commemorate the visit. I don’t think I can come close to understanding why the school feels she is that important to us.

But perhaps the most galling think is that I managed to do precisely nothing in voicing my protest. A petition was ostensibly dropped for being too confrontational, but it was due just as much to a lack of support from peers, as well as varying levels of hostility from teachers. I thought that I could at least write a letter, but by this point, I was doubting what there was left to gain. I had wanted to see the school defend itself, to admit that this was all a cynical marketing ploy for good publicity, but would good would that have accomplished? No reply, it seemed to me, could have helped the situation.

Maybe I was just trying to find an excuse to avoid the battle. I was disheartened enough by events for this to be plausible. But for whatever reason, nothing was said.

The real kicker, and what upsets me most, is that I do understand how this could work out in the school’s favour, and how the publicity might even lead to us being able to fund more sponsorships. I profess only a tentative belief in my original position now, but even this strikes me as somewhat irrelevant. Even if I am wrong, there was a view that went unrepresented. And that may have been my fault.

So not only did fellow students not agree with me, many did not even take me seriously, or worse, did not care. Not only had my school invited a vip I did not care for, but to protest that decision afterwards could only make the school look worse. Not only did I feel strongly about the situation, but because of cowardice or whatever other reason, I did nothing of any note. Not only did I not do anything that I wanted to do, but it could be the case that I was wrong all along, and that using members from the royal family is a route to a net benefit for the school.

As I said depressing.

I’m not sure anyone, least of all myself, comes out of this in a good light.