Carrdus School

Since 2023, Mrs Samantha Bagshaw; grew up in Eastbourne and read political sciences at the University of Birmingham before five years in London primary schools and a 12-year stint in Dubai and Shanghai. Now back in the UK with her young family, not a million miles from Stowe, where she did her A levels.

Hands-on, practical, quickly likeable; in her previous job, ‘I could go a day or two without any connection with pupils,’ but here she’s in the thick of it (not least because her own children are pupils). Predecessor - interim head for two terms - is now deputy and they make for a fresh and ambitious team. Previous head’s departure in December 2022 shook this small community, but they’ve spotted an opportunity to give the school a boost. ‘There’s excitement about the next chapter,’ staff tell us: Mrs Bagshaw seems chipper and there’s an energy around the school.

Parents welcome recent consultation over how things are going and their verdict seems to be, ‘so far, so good’. ‘It’s nice to see strong leadership,’ they say, praising the ‘unstuffy, modern feel’ that she’s creating. Trendy mustard-yellow cushions provide pops of colour on the sofa in her office, where we found ourselves so busy chewing the cud that we didn’t get around to the pastries laid out for us (almond croissants, too, more’s the pity).

One priority is developing pathway to Tudor Hall, who’ve owned Carrdus since 2011; an important element of the provision for girls (not the boys: Tudor remains steadfastly single sex). They work closely together: ‘Coming from all-through schools, I am very used to talking about A level results,’ she says, grateful for the benefits the relationship brings to Carrdus – sharing sports, DT facilities and some senior staff – and, of course, the relative security of being part of a group.

Lives with her partner, who teaches at a local primary, and their three young children – twin boys and a girl – who started at Carrdus the term before she did.

One big family, a home-from-home, if, that is, your family is 100 happy youngsters and home is as splendid as Overthorpe Hall, a perfectly proportioned old lodge built from local ironstone, the colour of ginger cake, crenelations atop the leaded windows. High-ceilinged classrooms look out across school’s lovely parkland towards Banbury’s (unlovely) outskirts. Original architraves, heavy wooden doors: comforting and pleasingly un-institutional.

Considerable change since we last visited. Boys no longer leave after year 2; younger year groups now approaching even numbers (patchy further up). Outnumbered, they seemed to stick together. The other headline is the introduction of a uniform, just as Covid hit; eyebrows were raised by parents, fearing it would stifle that glorious sense of freedom that makes the school different. Ruffled feathers have now been mostly smoothed over.

Remains academically unpretentious. Learning objectives displayed clearly so that children understand direction of travel. Teachers kind: ‘Some people have been practising, and will be able to do this easily,’ one told year 6 as they revised their times-tables, and, later, ‘Have you changed your mind? That’s OK!’ when someone realised they’d made a boo-boo. Tailoring is a real strength: parents appreciate individualised homework; preparation for entrance exams depends on what specific children need; even in reception, the pace of phonics can be adapted to the cohort. ‘Every year we think the next teacher can’t possibly be so fab,’ says one mum. Specialist maths and English teachers from year 5. Year 6 have their own devices; there’s a set of school laptops for use by year 5s and below. Noticeboards throughout are visually enticing: photographs of pupils; keywords in bubble writing; displays about the rainforest backed with hessian sacking.

Sunshine floods into reception’s classroom, where we met the guinea pigs (some debate about whether they’re actually hamsters), one hiding sensibly in a painted loo roll. Early years offering a current focus: expect more forest school, a more practical uniform and an improved playground to entice nursery children to go through to reception. Nursery calendar currently in line with school terms, but head is looking at viability of a year-round offering to suit parents.

SENCO is exceptional and learning support a source of great pride. Caters for specific learning difficulties, ADHD, dyslexia, as you’d expect, though we felt that the school would try and accommodate different needs too: ‘We see intervention in a positive light, it’s normal at Carrdus to have learning support.’ Though only 16 per cent of pupils are on the SEND register (just about national average), the department is central to school life and pupils were desperate to show it off. Board games piled high – ‘Learnopoly is like Monopoly but you learn’, our guide helpfully explains – and resources neatly categorised. Can organise drawing and talking therapy or play-based therapy alongside an array of OTs, SLTs, counsellors (at an extra cost). Staff ‘always keen to upskill’ to support everyone; ‘information sharing is key’, including with future schools. Staircases make the school inappropriate for a child with significant mobility issues. Nobody currently on EAL register.

Sporting culture is join in, have fun. Head pushing for more team sport, particularly for boys in upper year groups: touch rugby, mixed age-groups for teams and co-ed hockey all potential strategies to boost opportunities, though being uber-competitive is not in the Carrdus DNA. New optional hockey and football on Saturday mornings; a director of sport, shared with Tudor, being recruited. Outdoor pool set in utterly charming walled garden complete with lemon tree (it could’ve been Capri on the unseasonably warm September day that we visited); ‘seasonal swimming presents its own challenges,’ says head, though pupils sweetly point out that, ‘Swimming’s wet anyway!’

Not a huge number of clubs available, but this isn’t a big school; what is on offer seems lively and well-attended. Choir, sport, science, art. Rollerskating club every Friday is unmissable, ‘What I really like about it is that your parents can come and help you learn,’ says one girl (bless). Small music room for classroom teaching; drum kit next door. Around two-thirds learn an instrument; we watched a small girl practising her scales, sitting up very straight as her teacher encouraged her (we saw her again in maths and then on school council – this is the kind of place where you learn faces quickly). Up in drama club, girls (no boys yet) created freeze frames of a beach scenario, complete with ice cream eating and swimming with dolphins. Fabulous art room abuzz with activity; ‘It’s always a very messy lesson!’ says teacher, thrilled. We found children lino printing images of bees and next they’re going to make their own paints; it’s not every day that we come away with some bumf about a community hedgerow pigment project. Children use DT facilities at Tudor Hall.

Forest school is a jewel: ‘Playing is a huge thing, that oblique time when they learn,’ says forest school lead. Here’s that freedom again: ‘I trust them to use secateurs to make dens under the bushes.’ ‘Look, we’ve made a seesaw!’ said a pair of boys pointing to a plank teetering across a crate. Shrieks of joy from under the parachute as children tumble around. Sessions start and end with circle time, ‘we’ll sing songs, drink hot chocolate, celebrate the seasons’, often with a sense of ritual; St Brigid’s day (the start of spring), for example, is marked by making candles and telling stories. All this talk of equinoxes and solstices… Do we detect a Stonehenge-hippy vibe, we wondered? No, for the record, this is agricultural, not druid; but whatever it is, it’s unusually well thought out. Parent fundraising about to buy a cabin to facilitate year-round outdoor learning.

Deputy head oversees pastoral – a new role – and is rationalising existing systems and putting new policies in place. Having older boys has changed the dynamic – eleven-year olds have different needs from 7-year-olds. Gentle guidance around behaviour is all that’s needed (‘Brilliant,’ says a teacher, ‘but next time, put your hand up,’). ‘They don’t like to tell us off,’ pupils say. House points earned for Carrdus Pathway values (confidence, imagination, resilience, independence, aspiration, empathy – for once not a naff mnemonic of the school’s name). Responsibilities for all – we counted four house captains, two pathway leaders, two school counsellors, two cloakroom monitors and two librarians from a class of 15: ‘Being a librarian’s very important, because otherwise who would stack the books when they’ve flopped over?’

Friendships can become intense in small groups, ‘but we learn to get along’, said our guides, who explained by way of example that, ‘We used to not like each other because he put pine needles in my wellies, but now we’re friends, aren’t we?’ Weekly buddy-time builds genuine friendships between year groups. ‘We’re all one big gang, but there are sections within that of course,’ one explains sagely.

Lots of opportunities for (not-too-risky) risk-taking and feeling the wind in your hair. We always rejoice in a school where children climb trees, but this is the first time our guide has scaled one mid-tour (‘I can go higher, but I’d better come down.’) Classes take turns in the treehouse. Tube slide’s another favourite (‘We play a game called Blockers, even though we’re not allowed to. Don’t worry, no one’s ever got stuck.’) Over lunch, children full of their outdoor escapades: one had found a beetle this morning, ‘though it was asleep’ (RIP).

They’re unselfconscious, young, happily eccentric. Ponytails, velvet hairbands, flowery summer dresses (often tucked into waterproof trousers) for the girls; boys in cord shorts. Many, many freckles. Chatty and curious: more than one asked what we were writing in our top-secret GSG notebook. Lots of imaginary play: year 1 had created not a mud kitchen but a whole mud café (real slugs’ eggs, anyone?) whilst year 4 were playing a rolling game of Matilda, ‘she’s Miss Trunchball and she’s Lavender and she’s Miss Honey’.

Food delicious, on the whole. On the day we visited: macaroni cheese (‘it’s so cheesy!’) or paella. We choose the latter, packed with all the yummy bits, as did one of our companions, though she subsequently left it, explaining through gappy teeth that she ‘should’ve had mac and cheese like my friends’. You live and learn. Chef Darren's chocolate sponge cake contains hidden beetroot; he bakes sensational cookies (we had two…) for children on their birthdays.

An unspoilt school. Harvest Festival donations sitting in main hall were thoughtful and practical: Sainsburys cereals, Morrisons spaghetti. Most families are dual-income and school does not take support for granted. Tasteful bunch of flowers in reception says it all: we look after your children nicely but we’re not going blowing the budget on fancy florals. Friends Of Carrdus School raises meaningful amounts and school spends it carefully, realistic about the pressures that everyone’s under.

School announced in November 2024 that 'unless a commercial solution can be found' it would close at the end of the spring term 2025.