In a CLASS of her own
When Viv Morgan read a Mail report about a bullied teen’s suicide, she vowed to help other troubled children by opening a special school... in her own home. Her story is a lesson to humble us all
GRANDMOTHER Vi v Morgan’s £1.1million home looks just the place for a successful, widowed businesswoman to enjoy a quiet, well-earned retirement.
Nestled in the Warwickshire countryside, the rambling farmhouse has lovely aspects, overlooking green fields. Outside, all you can hear is the gentle bleat of sheep.
But as Viv, a sprightly 75-year-old, leads the way through her pretty front door, all expectations are turned on their head. Where are the tasteful antiques and soft furnishings? No bridge table? Surely, there must a golden Labrador dozing by an Aga in the kitchen and cruise tickets sitting on a Welsh dresser?
‘A cruise would be my idea of the worst torture,’ chuckles Viv, whose pet dog Benji is no pampered pedigree, but a lovable rescued street mongrel. ‘My late husband Fred once tried to teach me bridge and we almost came to blows. I hate golf. I just love working and don’t ever want to retire.’ Viv was widowed two years ago when Fred died aged 93. They had been married for 49 years.
It soon becomes clear that Viv is not the type of pensioner content with a daily crossword or leisurely visits to National Trust tearooms.
Inside, her home is a hive of activity; the air diffused with an energy so uplifting it’s almost tangible. For the rather grandly titled Northleigh House is, in fact, a remarkable — if unlikely —little independent private day school, devoted to helping the most vulnerable and emotionally fragile of pupils.
Opened in 2012, children arrive here either broken by bullies or so overwhelmed by anxiety they can’t cope with mainstream school, but leave as confident, capable learners full of hope for the future.
Since then, more than 80 pupils — from the smartest private schools to the humblest of backgrounds — have passed through its doors. ‘It’s quite magical to see these children blossom. I only wish I could take more,’ says Viv, who has a waiting list, thanks to the hundreds of calls she receives from parents desperate for help for their children.
What used to be Viv’s spacious sitting room, with views over the garden, is now a bustling office with five members of staff tapping away at computers and manning phones.
Almost all of the ten bedrooms have been transformed into well-equipped classrooms — including a science lab and a photographic studio complete with dark room — staffed by dedicated teachers. I see calm, contented children quietly concentrating on textbooks and giving lessons their full attention.
Some of the 30 pupils, aged between 11 and 17, are studying for GCSEs, following the national curriculum, others more vocational courses. They’re all day pupils, predominantly from Warwickshire, who receive funding from either their local council or charitable trusts.
At break time, a succession of cheerful, polite teenagers wander into the kitchen to make toast or grab a doughnut — as if they own the place — which, in a way, they do. A second lounge now serves as a common room, while a third is nicknamed ‘the kennel’. This is where ‘therapy dog’ Benji works his own magic, absorbing adolescent sadness with some canine TLC.
Certainly, there’s no risk of Viv spending her old age rattling round empty rooms or battling loneliness. But where does she actually live?
She leads me back through a warren of corridors to a tiny bedroom, with a spartan single bed, which doubles as the school sick bay.
But Viv insists she couldn’t be happier. The sacrifice is more than worth it. ‘Only the other week I had a call from a father in Hampshire who said he’d be willing to live in a mobile home near the school during the week if we could offer a place.
‘His daughter had been badly bullied and was refusing to go to school through fear. He was terrified she’d kill herself.
‘In the end she didn’t come here, but we receive many similar calls, even from parents with children in private schools which, like many mainstream schools, are increasingly focused on results and may not want children who are struggling. It’s very sad to see parents turn up with heads bowed, desperate for help.’
So how has this inexperienced grandmother succeeded where other vastly better resourced establishments have failed?
Viv’s simple formula boils down to patience, understanding, gentle encouragement and hours spent listening to the child, plus fresh country air, peace and quiet. ‘There is no shouting here, or punishments,’ says Viv, who dreams of opening a primary school too.
Remarkably, this educational sanctuary — rated ‘good’ by Ofsted in 2016 — wouldn’t even exist if Viv hadn’t picked up a copy of the Daily Mail ten years ago. Then the Morgans, who owned a Birmingham blinds company, ran Northfield House as a B&B. ‘It was great fun, and we met interesting people, but I wanted to do more,’ says Viv.
That opportunity came when a guest left behind that copy of the Mail. Viv was horrified to read the story of 15-year- old Simone Grice, who took her own life in 2009 after being targeted by bullies.
‘I just couldn’t stop thinking about this desperate girl who was found with a rag doll in one hand and a mobile phone in the other’, says Viv, grandmother to George, aged nine.
‘I couldn’t get my head around the fact that children were contemplating suicide, let alone doing it, so I decided to turn our B&B into a school. I wanted to stop these poor children from killing themselves.’
It was a daunting challenge for two pensioners, whose only experience of education had been as comfortably off parents who could afford to put their own daughter Angela, now 46, through private school. But determined Viv marched down to the local council offices to find out how to turn that vision into reality.
With so little provision for such children outside mainstream schools, Viv and Fred were met with encouragement. Using her businesswoman networking skills she set about finding the right people for the right jobs — many of them volunteers — and seven years ago the council placed their first pupil at Northleigh House.
‘The social worker said to us, “If you don’t take him, he’ll end up in prison, healthcare or dead”, remembers Viv, who’d assembled a small team of tutors and volunteers. ‘He’d been excluded from school for kicking in the science teacher’s door because he couldn’t do physics. He could just about read and write.
‘We didn’t know what to expect, but this young chap was just delightful. He used to help look after our 25 chickens, collecting the eggs, and spent hours talking to Fred. He ended up doing a carpentry apprenticeship and is doing very well now.
‘Then, there was this other little chap, who’d been bullied and was so anxious he used to collapse on his way to school. He was such a pale, little beaten sprout when he first came here. He’s 18 now, but he came back last week, sat on my desk and said: “I’ve made up my mind, I am going to be a doctor.”’
That student is Aaron Kirch, who is now at college taking A-levels in biology and psychology. He plans to take A-level chemistry next year and hopes to apply to medical school.
Diagnosed with dyslexia aged nine, Aaron struggled with the transition to secondary school. Name-calling, pushing and shoving on the morning bus added to his anxiety.
‘When I refused to leave the house, my parents started driving me to school, but some days I’d run in front of the car to stop them driving away. If my mum hadn’t found Northleigh, I don’t think I would have passed any exams at all,’ says Aaron, who spent five years at Northleigh and passed GCSEs in all the core subjects, plus photography and psychology.
‘It was just so relaxing, more like home than school, with a fire in
‘It’s quite magical to see these children blossom’
winter and we wore our own clothes. The teachers were so patient and understanding, I loved it there.’
Today, Viv employs 25 fully qualified teachers, of which around six are full-time. There are four learning mentors devoted to pastoral care, and a Special Educational Needs co-ordinator.
Responsible for the day to day running of the school is director Elaine Simmons, who brings the organisational flair and financial acumen from a previous career in banking. ‘It has been a very steep learning curve,’ admits Viv, who is Chair of Trustees. ‘When we first opened, two ladies from Ofsted spent three days with us. At the end they said: “We really should close you down, but we like what you are doing, so we’re going to give you six months to improve.”’
It was in the Jacuzzi at her local health club that Viv struck up a conversation with ‘inspirational’ English teacher Jill Cornfield, who would later become the school’s first headteacher.
In the books section of the local Oxfam shop she met a retired teacher and former Ofsted inspector who also offered expertise, advice and guidance on Department of Education requirements. This month Viv’s dedication was rewarded when Prince William presented her with an MBE for services to education, watched by daughter Angela, son-in-law Richard and grandson George.
Despite her age, she has no plans to slow down. ‘Every single child arrives here highly anxious. Some are so exhausted all they can do is sleep to begin with,’ says Viv.
‘Many of them have been badly bullied, but often they can’t even talk about it because they feel they are in some way to blame because their self-esteem is so low. They’ve been targeted for all sorts of reasons — because they’re too fat or too thin, have red hair, are too clever or not clever enough, or too pretty. Once the bullying starts, it very rarely stops.’
Social media exacerbates the problem. ‘It’s one thing to say something nasty to someone’s face, but quite another when it’s written down and you can read it over and over again,’ she says.
Other children, who may have special educational needs, struggle to cope with the size, noise, pressure, rigidity and academic expectations of mainstream schools. ‘We had one girl who had laid down in the road in Solihull in the hope a lorry would run her over. When the police took her home, she said: “I don’t really want to die, but there’s nothing for me. If I can’t study, I won’t get a job.” She did marvellously well here and is now at college.
‘Just being in this peaceful environment can be incredibly healing. We try to give the children what they need — kindness, understanding and respect — and if they want to study something in particular, we try to make that happen for them. We have two students at the moment who are very good at computing. One has won a national award and now wants to work in Silicon Valley.’
Viv shows me outside where the barn has been converted into a dance studio, assembly hall and games room with pool table. One pine garden lodge houses a cookery suite, another is the woodwork cave — learning spaces paid for by fundraisers and charity donations on which the school depends.
There’s even a small football pitch and a basketball court, where energetic Canadian sports coach Andy Ransberry makes PE fun rather than an ordeal.
Mobile phones are handed in at the start of each morning. Everyone is encouraged to be sociable, developing face-to-face relationship skills to build confidence.
Most children arrive with an education health care plan (a legal document detailing a child’s special educational, health or social needs) and are funded by councils, at a cost of £30,000 a year each.
It sounds a lot, but Viv says that doesn’t go far when you factor in staff wages and other costs associated with running a school.
Other children are funded by educational charities, and the school — which offers a few bursaries to parents — is heavily reliant on charitable donations for its existence. One pupil, the child of a police officer, was funded by the police benevolent fund.
Former pupil Lily Povey, 18, doesn’t like to think how her life would be now without the help of staff at Northfield House.
Bullied from the age of eight, she became so distressed she was out of mainstream education for two years. Before she arrived here in 2015, she says she sometimes felt suicidal with despair.
‘I was so anxious, I couldn’t even leave my house, and I don’t think I would have passed any exams if I hadn’t come to Northfield,’ says Lily, who spent two-and-half years at the school and is now studying hairdressing at college.
She passed GCSEs in English, maths, science and photography.
‘They don’t force you to attend lessons and support from the pastoral sessions really help when you’re feeling anxious and develop new ways of dealing with stressful situations. I’m a completely different person now, much happier and more confident.’
Viv is making plans for Northleigh House School to continue after she has gone and plans to place part of her property in trust. ‘I’m hoping to find and train someone to take over my role if I pop my clogs,’ says Viv, who adds that her family know better than to try to persuade her to slow down.
‘What we do is really just a drop in the ocean, and when I told Prince William about how many more children we wanted to help, he told me: “I am sure you will succeed.”’
Given what Viv Morgan has achieved so far, who could possibly doubt that?
‘I’m a different person, happy and confident’