From Pupil to Head Teacher – John Budding

I grew up in Garden Suburb, a charming little area with tree-lined streets and cherry trees – the kind of place planners built in the early 20th century. My parents worked incredibly hard to give me the opportunities they never had. My dad was a butcher, and my mum helped out in the shop when she wasn’t looking after me.

My dad started working as a butcher during the war, and it became his life’s work. He always knew it wouldn’t be something that lasted for me, though – he wanted something better. That’s why they sent me to Hulme. It was a big sacrifice for them, but they believed in giving me the chances they never had. My mum left school at 12, and my dad at 14 – which was just how things were then – but they were both sharp as anything. My mum’s handwriting in her recipe book was immaculate; you’d never guess she left school so young.

I didn’t really have big ambitions when I was younger – I was just finding my way, trying to figure out what I was good at. My parents didn’t push me, but they always made it clear that the door was open if I wanted to make something of myself. My dad’s mantra was, “It’s there if you want it,” and that stuck with me.

Starting at Hulme was a bit overwhelming at first. It felt so grand – like you were stepping into history. Even now, I still get that feeling when I walk into the hall and think about all the people who sat there before me. It made you want to do your best, and over time, I started to click with it. I wasn’t a star pupil at first, but by the time I was in Year 8, things began to fall into place. I worked harder, and I started to climb the rankings.

Looking back, I was lucky to have parents who believed in me and a school that opened up so many possibilities. It wasn’t always easy, but that combination of their sacrifice and Hulme’s atmosphere gave me a foundation that’s shaped my life ever since.

Some of my fondest memories are tied to the opportunities and experiences that helped me grow, both personally and socially. Making friendships also stands out—especially as an only child, I found myself naturally drawn to people from larger families. They almost “adopted” me, and that sense of camaraderie was something special.

Starting at Hulme was a whirlwind, and it took time to find my feet, but once I did, I fully embraced everything the school had to offer. The debating society and drama club were highlights, as was participating in altruistic activities.

One unforgettable memory was my first school trip abroad to Paris when I was about 14 or 15. It was magical. Seeing the historical landmarks like Versailles, exploring the city, and even practicing the French I’d learned in class made the experience so immersive. There was a moment where someone got lost, and I used my French to ask locals for help—something I never thought I’d have the confidence to do!

The trip itself was a mix of structure and spontaneity. Our teacher, Monsieur Bray, was quite modern in his approach, and the trip had a relaxed, almost laissez-faire vibe. We travelled by hovercraft and train, and everything—from the journey to the sights of Pigalle and even the unexpected discovery of the more “adult” aspects of Paris—felt like an awakening.

That trip ignited my love for travel and left me more grown-up and curious about the world. By the time I reached sixth form, that sense of growth and discovery continued to define my time at Hulme, solidifying many of my fondest memories.

Returning to Hulme as a member of staff felt like a natural progression after honing my skills elsewhere, particularly during five formative years teaching at Hathershaw. By the time I arrived as an English teacher, I was confident in my abilities and ready to take on the challenges of a new classroom environment. Those early days at Hulme were pivotal—students naturally tested me, but my experience meant I wasn’t caught off guard, which helped me establish myself quickly.

As for staying at Hulme for so long, that wasn’t my original plan. It often felt like fate intervened. Every time I considered moving on, an opportunity would arise that kept me here.    Whether it was stepping up as second in English, taking on pastoral responsibilities, or eventually becoming deputy principal, I followed a path that seemed to unfold naturally. Hulme offered me a chance to grow continuously, which was incredibly rewarding.

Regarding my teaching style, I thrived in the classroom. I enjoyed the banter and the quick-witted exchanges with students, which fostered mutual respect and trust. It wasn’t just about teaching English but building a rapport where students felt supported and challenged. Alumni often mention the balance I struck—accessible and approachable yet firm when needed. Assemblies, especially with the sixth form, were a highlight. Often off-the-cuff, they combined humour, life lessons, and occasional rants about hedonistic behaviour that students fondly remember decades later.

The relationships built in those years have stood the test of time. Alumni still remind me of moments I’ve long forgotten, anecdotes they remember. For me, teaching was always more than a job—it was a way to inspire and connect. Those relationships and memories have been the most fulfilling part of my journey at Hulme.

Oh, absolutely, there have been so many moments that still make me laugh. One that stands out was with a student named Ryan Wild (class of 2007), a very clever boy who often pushed deadlines to the limit. I kept chasing him about an essay—every lesson it was, “Have you done it yet?” And the answer was always no. Finally, on the day of the deadline, I asked him again, fully expecting the same answer and he said “no” again but then he dramatically said, “Ta-da!” and handed me the essay. Without thinking, I picked it up and threw it in the bin! Of course, I fished it out immediately, but it was the humour of the moment, and Ryan still reminds me of it to this day.

Another memorable moment came during assembly with a colleague, Jim Millican, who was known for his commanding presence. One day in the mid-nineties this was, while organising students in assembly, he was directing a line of boys including one boy named Mark Cox (important to note, spelt C-O-X). Jim, in his usual authoritative tone, said, “Boys with Cox, move forward!” The staff, myself included, had to hide behind pillars to stifle our laughter. The students didn’t know whether to laugh or stay silent, as Jim was such a formidable figure.

There was also the time Jim sat on a chair on the stage during assembly, and it collapsed beneath him. You could feel the collective effort of everyone trying not to laugh out loud. Moments like these, though unintentional, brought a lot of humour and humanity to our time at Hulme. They remind me how important it is to find joy and connection in even the most structured settings.

When I first came here as a pupil, the school hadn’t changed much at all—it had the same atmosphere and even many of the same teachers when I returned as a member of staff. However, over the past 30 years, the changes have been constant and significant.

One major shift was in 1976, when the school transitioned from a direct grammar school to an independent school. During that time, the Assisted Places Scheme was introduced, which I thought was brilliant. It allowed aspiring working-class families from areas like Oldham, Ashton, and Rochdale to access the excellent education offered here. That system lasted until 1997, and its loss marked a turning point. Since then, education here has become increasingly expensive, and the demographic has shifted, with fewer students from less affluent backgrounds able to attend.

In the years following 1997, financial concerns became more pronounced. While the school had substantial reserves in earlier years, these weren’t always used to invest in facilities. For example, there were plans for a drama studio, lecture theatre, and even a covered amphitheatre, but these ideas were never realised. Instead, much of the funding was used to subsidise student numbers as tuition costs rose.

Looking at the school now, much of it appears the same as it did when I was a boy or a young teacher. The classrooms and buildings are familiar, though there have been modern additions like touchscreens. However, the student population has reduced significantly while the physical layout of the school remains unchanged, which has created challenges for financial sustainability.

If I could relive one day, it would undoubtedly be the first night of a school show I directed. For many years, I had the privilege of running the school productions, and they were always such a mix of hard work, camaraderie, and joy. One particularly memorable show was around 1999 or 2000 – it was My Fair Lady, where Steph Eckhart played Eliza, Rob Hicks starred as Colonel Pickering and a young John Williamson was sweeping the floor.

Another standout memory is The Importance of Being Earnest, a play we put on that was absolutely fantastic. The production featured incredibly talented students, including Anthony Kinsey (class of 1995), who opened the play with a breathtaking piano performance, as well as Richard Eling (class of 1997) – it was a true showcase of talent and teamwork.

What made these shows so special was how they brought together students, staff, and the wider school community. Even footballers, whom I sometimes bribed to join, would discover the joy of performing and often grew to love it, with some even taking on main roles. Rehearsals were often chaotic, with late evenings and fraught Saturdays filled with shambolic moments and plenty of ranting about missed steps or forgotten lines. But when that curtain went up, and everything fell into place, it was pure magic.

The sense of achievement was immense—not just for the students, but for everyone involved. Hearing parents and friends of the school rave about the performance brought a huge smile to my face. Those moments of shared creativity, effort, and pride would definitely be the ones I’d choose to relive.

The Great Gatsby stands out as my favourite. I’ve taught it many times with sixth-form groups, both for coursework and exams. It’s beautifully written and incredibly rich, weaving themes of romance, dreams, resilience, and self-belief, all while exploring the tension between idealism and the harsh realities of the world. It’s a book that resonates deeply with me.

The ending, in particular, has always struck a chord. I’ve often thought about reading the last page during end-of-year assemblies because of its evocative imagery. The idea of “one fine day” and the eternal struggle of “boats against the tide” encapsulates the human spirit of striving, despite the odds. Gatsby, with all his flaws and his naive yet beautiful dream, is such a compelling character. His pursuit of a woman whose voice is “full of money” and who doesn’t truly deserve the depth of his dream adds layers of poignancy to the story.

As for adaptations, I prefer Robert Redford’s portrayal of Gatsby in the 1974 film. While Leonardo DiCaprio’s performance in Baz Luhrmann’s version was excellent, I find Redford’s Gatsby more aligned with the novel’s spirit. That said, I do appreciate Luhrmann’s modern take and his incorporation of contemporary music, as seen in his Romeo + Juliet. Still, the Robert Redford film remains my go-to for capturing the essence of this timeless novel.

The approach to education in the UK has shifted significantly over the past three decades, and not all changes have been positive. One major difference is the increase in state interference in schools. Starting with Kenneth Baker’s reforms in the 1980s, state oversight introduced accountability measures that aimed to improve educational standards. While these changes helped elevate the quality of many state schools, they also led to overregulation and excessive bureaucracy.

Today, the emphasis on inspections, micromanagement, and results-driven systems has stifled creativity in teaching. Teachers are under constant supervision, burdened with paperwork, and forced to follow rigid curriculums, leaving little room for spontaneity or deviation in the classroom. In subjects like English, where once teachers could draw on a wide range of texts and inspirations, the focus on covering dense specifications means there’s no time for enriching digressions.

This systematic approach has drained much of the joy and passion from teaching and learning, discouraging both educators and students. Thirty years ago, teachers were trusted to do their jobs without constant oversight. That trust fostered a dynamic and engaging classroom environment, where lessons could be enriched with unexpected poems or stories, inspiring students to explore literature more deeply.

To improve education today, we need to restore that trust in teachers, giving them the freedom to teach creatively and adaptively. By doing so, we can rekindle a love of learning and help both teachers and students flourish.

I would have focused on providing the kind of guidance and support that I felt was lacking in my own education. As a young student, I received very little guidance and was often left to navigate challenges alone. To address this, I would have prioritised not only academic success but also personal development, character building, and resilience.

I would have intervened beyond the classroom to identify students who were struggling—socially, emotionally, or academically—and ensured they received the help they needed. This would include fostering an inclusive environment where students felt safe to explore their identities, discuss personal challenges, and build friendships.

I would have created spaces for open conversations, offering guidance in areas like relationships, mental health, and even topics traditionally overlooked in schools during my time, such as sexuality and personal wellbeing.

Furthermore, I would have integrated opportunities for resilience-building into the curriculum. This could include encouraging students to embrace failure as a learning process, participate in team activities, and take on challenges that required perseverance. I would have talked openly about setbacks and how to grow from them, modeling resilience and adaptability.

Ultimately, I would strive to be a teacher who, like the inspiring educators I now admire, dedicates time and care to helping students grow into well-rounded individuals prepared for life’s complexities.

When I first heard about the merger of the boys’ and girls’ schools in the sixth form, I was absolutely delighted because I believed it would bring out the best in both groups. For the boys, it would offer a more balanced environment, and for the girls, it would challenge their perceptions and help them see their peers in a new light, moving beyond stereotypes of immaturity or thoughtlessness.

While the transition wasn’t without its challenges—especially resistance from the girls’ school staff and initial apprehension from some students—the merger ultimately created a dynamic, collaborative, and vibrant atmosphere. The pastoral setup we developed was instrumental in addressing concerns and supporting the students, helping them adapt and thrive.

What I found most rewarding was seeing the sixth formers embrace this new environment, building confidence and camaraderie that served as a perfect stepping stone for university and adult life. Reflecting on it, that period was one of the most enjoyable and fulfilling times.

And then Claire helps us wrap up this interview with a great question….

Well it’s short and sweet and the first thing that comes to mind is that it would be that Hulme is a friendly, vibrant, family-like place – and while it might seem cliché from a marketing perspective, it truly reflects how I felt about it.