Ooh, matron!

The boarding-school matron is no longer a terrifying, comedy figure, but a much-loved and empathetic expert in everything from allergies to ipads. Tessa Waugh meets the wise women who are in a position of trust

Years ago, people said “get on with it”, but it’s different now. We’ve become very good at reading body language

WHO can say the word ‘matron’ without thinking of Hattie Jacques, gliding menacingly down the wards in

Carry on Nurse? The word comes with a whiff of carbolic soap, the chink of bedpans. You didn’t mess with matron and, in many cases, the school variety fitted the stereotype. ‘Terrifying battleaxe,’ claims one former schoolboy, adding hastily: ‘Don’t use my name in case she reads this. I might run into her again.’

Matrons may have changed a lot in 50 years, but they’re more vital than ever. Now, they don’t really see their role as a job—it’s more of a vocation due to the all-consuming nature of looking after so many children around the clock.

At Aysgarth prep school in North Yorkshire, head matron Anne Armstrong (fondly known as Miss A) has steered the boarding ship in her calm, no-nonsense way for 27 years. ‘It’s like being a mother to 160 boys’, she says, which would make most people feel very nervous.

Not Miss A, who’s a reassuring presence in sensible shoes and a bum bag, whether dealing with anxious parents, touchline casualties or the titanic quantities of washing, mending and ironing. She refuses to name an aspect she dislikes and confesses apologetically: ‘I even enjoy nit checks.’

The biggest change in her tenure? ‘One word: emails. It all used to be done through the school secretary, but I now receive several each day, ranging from so and so’s missing a sock to “my son needs…”.’

This is one of the major differences between schools now and 30 years ago: parents are not the remote figures that they used to be. ‘When I started, we had boys who lived up the road and didn’t really understand why they were boarding, because nobody at home had explained it to them. That was hard,’ notes Miss A.

Today’s parents are much more involved and matrons often provide that valuable link between child and school. The relationship is even more loaded if parents live in another time zone. Caroline Ferguson was naturally anxious when her eldest son, Henry, started at the Pilgrims’ School in Winchester as a full-boarder when he was eight. His parents dropped him off and began their journey back to the US, where Henry’s father had recently started a new job.

Two days later, they had a call saying that Henry had broken his arm. ‘It was every parent’s nightmare,’ remembers Caroline.

In loco parentis: the modern matron needs to be as adept at mending an injured soul as they are at mending an injured finger ‘An eight-year-old son at a new school in huge pain and we were across the Atlantic, but Mrs Ford, his matron, was on hand in minutes. She stayed with him for hours in A&E, getting to know him, listening to him. Mrs Ford is not only my go-to if Henry is unhappy about something, but also, and more importantly, she’s Henry’s go-to person.’

With so much emphasis these days on mental well-being, the modern matron can’t afford to be fierce and authoritarian. Being approachable is something they all see as vital, as they’ll often be the first port of call for a child who’s sad or unsettled. ‘Sometimes, it’s just about being here rather than actually doing anything. It’s about being ready,’ explains Diane Davidson, matron of Carrington House at Fettes College, Edinburgh, who I interrupt preparing 60 bagels for the mid-morning snack.

At Shrewsbury, best friends Nadine Jones and Tania Jones have shared the matron job in School House for 20 years. They’re a joyful, fun-loving pair. ‘We have such a laugh with the boys, and it’s always terribly sad when they leave,’ says Tania. ‘They love to jump out of a wardrobe and surprise us, anything to wind up matron.’

Both are fully aware of the serious ramifications of what they do. Nadine adds: ‘The training we’re given is so good, about anything from allergies to mental issues to the gadgets children use now. Years ago, people used to say “get on with it”, but it’s different now. We’ve both become very good at reading body language.’

At Sedbergh in Cumbria, matrons have been rebranded as assistant housemistresses. Catherine Clark holds this position in Carus House, home to 70 girls, describing herself as the mother figure, with the housemistress taking the fatherly role. ‘We’re dealing with children who are away from home,’ she explains, ‘so it’s important that we’re able to listen and be empathetic with them and their parents.’

Catherine feels her background in mentoring holds her in good stead: ‘I love the interaction with the girls, the conversations that I have with them. It’s a privilege to watch them develop.’

She has put a blackboard up in her office and it’s covered with messages such as ‘Life’s a journey, not a race’, ‘It’s okay to not be okay’ and ‘Be the best version of yourself’ to reinforce the positive vibe. ‘If they’re fed up or at a loose end, I tell them to go and write something on the blackboard.’

Dealing with illness and injuries is still a big part of the job, but this has also evolved. Old Aysgarthian Toby Milbank now has two sons at the school. He admires the nuanced approach to the boys’ care, which is so different to his own memories.

‘We used to get saltwater mouthwash for everything from a sore throat to a broken arm and if we hurt ourselves on the pitch, we had to make our own way to the san— not easy when you’d suffered a knock to the head.’

Unnamed clothes, dirty socks and vomit still loom large in matrons’ lives, but even these are tackled differently. Tania confesses: ‘I don’t like sick, but magic crystals usually do the trick.’

Any battles between parent and child at home will, of course, be replicated in the boarding house. When it comes to dealing with teenagers, these women are experts and it seems that the carrot often wins over the stick. ‘Nagging doesn’t always achieve results,’ claims Diane, who likes to award pizza to those with the tidiest rooms.

The modern obsession with mobile phones can be a curse, but it can also be helpful when it comes to discipline. Tania explains: ‘If they’re naughty or messing us about at bedtime, Nadine and I just knock on the door and say “If I hear another sound, don’t bother coming for your phones in the morning”. After that, you don’t hear another thing all night. It’s much more effective than putting their name in the tardy book or telling them off.’