January 29, 2026
A Values-Based Education places character, judgement and community at the centre of school life. As January’s value, and the first of the year, Happiness comes to a close, our Acting Assistant Master (Pastoral), Mrs Lindley, reflects on what happiness can mean in practice, shaped by gratitude and the strength of our community.
Values-based education is not something that sits alongside the curriculum; it is part of the curriculum in its fullest sense. It shapes how pupils think about themselves, how they relate to others, and how they understand their responsibilities within a wider community. Each month brings a shared value, introduced in assembly and explored through form discussion and reflection. Pupils are encouraged to engage seriously with ideas such as kindness, resilience, integrity, courage and service – not as abstract ideals, but as lived practices.
January begins with Happiness – not as a slogan, but as a subject worthy of serious thought: how it is shaped by gratitude, belonging, purpose and the quality of our relationships with others.
When I first saw that January’s value was happiness, it felt slightly ironic. After three weeks of holidays, time spent with family, and the joy and excitement of Christmas, returning to school on a cold, wet January morning didn’t immediately feel uplifting. When I sat down to think more carefully about happiness, I found myself struggling to find ‘happy content’. I was recovering from a painful wisdom tooth extraction, facing the rather unappealing prospect of eating Christmas dinner through a straw, and feeling disappointed about missing the end-of-term festivities. I was also trying to organise an early-January birthday celebration, only to discover that Dry January, New Year detoxes, and fresh starts are all excellent reasons not to come to a party. Even cake, it seems, struggles to compete in January.
Christmas and New Year are powerful markers in our calendar. They invite us to pause, to look back on the year that has passed, and to notice what has changed in our lives – sometimes for the better, sometimes in more difficult ways. They’re also a time when many people make resolutions, hoping to improve something about themselves or their circumstances. All of this reflection can be helpful, but it can also highlight how complicated the idea of happiness really is.
Of course, like many, I enjoy my sleep, good food and quality time with my favourite people. But when I look back over the past year, the moments that stand out as most positive are rarely about my happiness alone.
They are moments shaped by the delight, excitement, or quiet contentment of others. Most recently, I think of introducing my children to the Home Alone films and watching their laughter at scenes I’ve seen countless times before. The excitement of stockings on Christmas morning, new football kits, Iron Man costumes and chocolate coins. Just as memorably, the satisfaction on my husband’s face when Sunderland beat Newcastle just before Christmas – an event which, I can assure you, felt extremely important in our house.
It is a comfort to return to memories like these and to recognise the warmth they still carry – the way another person’s happiness, pride, or relief can lift one’s own spirits. But alongside those lighter moments, there have also been times of real challenge for my family this year. We have been learning to live with the loss of my Dad, who passed away just after Christmas last year, and supporting my Mum as she adjusts to life on her own after more than forty years of marriage. I’ve watched my son Louis cry most days of his first term in Reception as he struggled to find his place in big school. I’ve felt the parental pang of missing moments as I’ve tried to balance family life with the pressures of a busy job that I love. There have been sleepless nights, weekends of solo parenting when everything felt exhausting and overwhelming, and moments when it genuinely felt as though YouTube sensation ‘Miss Rachel’ had become the third parent in our house, bringing a little calm when it was most needed.
And yet, although those moments were genuinely hard, I realised something important: even when life was difficult, I was never deeply unhappy. I wasn’t always cheerful or relaxed, but there was still a sense of steadiness underneath it all – a feeling that I could cope, that I was supported, and that things would not always feel this way. Perhaps that helps to clarify happiness a little better. So how does one build a kind of happiness that lasts – not just moments of excitement, but a deeper sense of peace and belonging?
One way is by practising gratitude and paying attention to the communities we are part of. Gratitude isn’t about pretending everything is perfect; it’s about noticing what is already good. WUS is a community where there is much to be grateful for: interesting and challenging academic lessons, sport, arts, drama, music – but most importantly, it is a place where people support one another.
During the challenging times I’ve mentioned, I was always met with warmth, kindness, support and plenty of laughter here at school from colleagues who have become true friends. That support didn’t remove the difficulties, but it gave me reassurance, strength and a strong sense of belonging.
When a culture is founded on genuine care, people are better able to face challenges, and in turn, that care strengthens the whole community.
It can’t be said often enough: there are so many people in this school who genuinely care about one another – and showing that same care for others can, in itself, deepen happiness. It spreads through communities.
In our weekly church service, the reading from Paul’s letter to the Philippians spoke about learning to be content in all circumstances, in times of plenty and in times of need. Paul doesn’t deny that life can be hard; instead, he points towards a deeper contentment – the kind that steadies us and gives resilience and courage to face whatever comes.
As the term continues, the hope is that happiness might be understood in this deeper way – not something to chase, but something to grow; steadily and together.
I would like to end with a quote from American naturalist Henry David Thoreau:
“Happiness is like a butterfly: the more you chase it, the more it will evade you, but if you notice the things and people that exist around you, it will gently come and sit on your shoulder.”