National Thank a Teacher Day is an annual celebration of teachers and support staff across early years settings, schools and colleges. This year it will take place on Wednesday 18th June 2025. Last year over 82,000 Thank a Teacher Day personalised e-cards were sent and we had a media reach of 60,000,000 including national coverage on BBC, ITV, The Sunday Times, The Daily Express and The Sun https://thankateacher.co.uk/nationalthankateacherday/
After our prep school years which lasted until the end of Year 8, my brother Hugh and I pursued our Senior School Education to University entrance at Douai School, Woolhampton, one of the great Benedictine monastic schools in existence in the 1960s-1990s. The plan had been for us to study much more locally at Beaumont College in Old Windsor, owned and run by the Society of Jesus, another monastic order known as the Jesuits. The school announced its closure in 1965, deciding to focus the community’s efforts on their other school in England, Stonyhurst in Lancashire. Given that Douai was in easy reach of Maidenhead Thicket via the 1/1A bus service to Woolhampton, and a 15 minute walk up the hill to Douai Abbey and its school, as well as, of course, by car, the decision to board locally was one our parents found easy to make.
I left Douai in December 1971, having stayed back a term after A levels to take Oxford Entrance exams to Pembroke College and to play Rugby for the 1st XV. As anyone of our age will relate, a boarding education anywhere in the country was both spartan and at times, notoriously physical by way of punishment to manage behaviour. My first year at the school included ‘fagging duties’ which meant attending to the Sixth Form at meal times to serve them food, as well as cleaning the prefects’ shoes and meeting their idle needs as they felt fit. What made this apparent reincarnation of Tom Brown’s violent school days acceptable was the incredibly strong pastoral care given by my housemaster, Father Bernard Swinhoe, of Walmsley House. Throughout my time at Douai, he kept his eye on me as he did on the other 80 boys in the House, and communicated particularly well to my parents on my conduct (good or bad) in school. For example, he wrote to my parents during my O-level Christmas term that ‘Jimmy has joined a smoking gang’; this did not actually come as a surprise to my parents, both at the time habitual smokers, but it did cause me to take stock and be reminded that I was not after all quite so invisible at school as perhaps I thought. And that warning certainly caused me to avoid further physical punishment at school.
My final 4 terms at Douai were spent even closer to Father Bernard; his seemingly massive interest in, and knowledge of, everything made him an ideal mentor for A-level General Studies; together with the Head of English, William Bell, I was scrubbed up well for the exams I needed to take for A-level and Oxford, as well as taught niceties of working in seminars via an evening dining club known as ‘Parnassus’. He took an enormous interest in my exploits on the Rugby field as open side for the 1st XV, and kept in touch with me during the 3 years at university beyond. Father Bernard’s perceptible joy at being asked to assist at my wedding during the hot summer of 1975 was perhaps his recognition of the strength of admiration I held him in. As his obituary written by a fellow monk from Douai makes clear, the way he lived his life and the way he formed relationships were indeed remarkable, and I am one of his many charges who will never forget how he made us feel, welcome and wanted.
The abridged version of his obituary is below, the fuller version can be found here on pages 127-129 of the Douai Magazine.
If I were writing to Fr Bernard now, I’d add the following:
“Dear Bernie, above all of the many happy memories you helped create for me, it was your ability to keep the tuck shop fully stocked before film night, that you ran the best ‘smokes’ during the weekday evenings when we could come together and listen to the latest LPs that we had managed to buy from the Reading record shops, and above all, not to mock me too much when I forgot where I was and called you ‘Dad’. You saw my disappointment when I received the rejection letter from Pembroke, and made it quite clear that ‘Oxford’s loss was to be Leicester’s gain’. You never met the 2 sons that Jenny and I have brought up and now grandparent for, but they would hear your stories and completely agree that ‘Jimmy’ hasn’t changed much since, interested in everything and everyone, a chip of the same block from which you seemed to have been carved!”
We never had ‘Thank a Teacher Day’ during my childhood, and it’s a very good idea now that’s been around for 27 years. You can read more from their official website and as Michael Morpurgo makes clear, ““For so many of us, it was someone at school who changed our lives, was at our side through hard and difficult times, lifted us up when we were down, helped us find our voice, gave us confidence when we needed it most, set us on a path that we have followed ever since.”

Fr Bernard Swinhoe OSB, 1931-2020
Our much-loved Father Bernard slipped away into the hands of the Lord on Maundy Thursday night. It was no surprise; he had long been failing with gentle dementia, then a two-week stay in hospital over Christmas was followed by some weeks in a care home. What a fitting, peaceful end for a gentle, kind and sensitive monk. Charles Swinhoe was born in Rochester on 20 June 1931. His father was an army colonel in India, so he spent time there as a child. He was then some years at St. Richard’s Prep School at Little Malvern. He and his sisters and younger brother lived with their mother in a number of rented houses during the war years. Family was always important to him; mother, sisters and brother mattered a lot. In 1944, he came to Douai School, where he distinguished himself in many sports, captaining the rugby and cricket teams.
After National Service as a commissioned officer with the King’s African Rifles in Kenya, he joined the monastic community in 1952, taking the name Bernard. He was professed in 1953, obtained an English degree at Oxford and was ordained priest in 1961. He was, however, always somewhat less comfortable as a priest than as a simple monk. His mastery of English stayed with him all his life, and he loved to painstakingly hone his writing. His sermons were always beautifully crafted and elegantly delivered. One of his brethren once cheekily quipped that his university degree was in punctuation. Quintessentially a monk and full of life, Bernard was quietly self-effacing. Deeply rooted in the Douai soil, where he belonged for 67 years (or 72, including school days) he is now buried in that earth. Stabilitas loci! He was faithful to the end to the community and to the round of Divine Office, the praise of God. In his last fading months at Douai, he especially loved sharing the night prayer of Compline. He naturally accepted his final lot in hospitals and care homes, remaining ever appreciative of the nurses’ attentions.
Bernard’s genuine self-deprecation was not false humility; rather, reticence, scrupulosity, and dissatisfaction with himself. Mindful of the dangers of self-satisfaction, to which most of us are prone, St Benedict in chapter seven of his Rule strongly insists on turning from this undermining vice. It has been said that “the secret of one person’s success is another person’s success remaining a secret; some people would not provide to be so pivotal in your life had they been more concerned with their own”. And this was Bernard’s humility, mixed as has been observed, with a measure of quiet roguishness. One remembers his merriment recounting somewhat scurrilous anecdotes heard in an august commission on which he sat. For one former pupil, Bernard “did not suggest or rely on a hierarchical relationship with us as boys, he displayed an openness both to his own uncertainties and to your possibilities”.
Bernard had the inestimable gift of being ever available and accessible to all, boy or fellow monk. He would repair your rugby boots, fix your watch, mend your lock and make you a key, fill a gap to play double bass in the school orchestra, bind the monastery books or paint the missing oil portrait of a long-deceased abbot he had never met. His natural curiosity about everything, how many interests, his enthusiasms and skills, his practical knack and unremitting generosity remained with him until the end. He has left a mark on us all.
Fr Bernard died quietly on 9 April, during the COVID-19 lockdown, and was buried simply in the monks’ graveyard, after a private Requiem celebrated by the community on 17 April 2020. May he rest in peace.
Peter Bowe OSB
To repeat, Michael Morpurgo makes clear, ““For so many of us, it was someone at school who changed our lives, was at our side through hard and difficult times, lifted us up when we were down, helped us find our voice, gave us confidence when we needed it most, set us on a path that we have followed ever since.” I see this happening every day here at school, brilliant leading & learning relationships being forged between adults and children, and I do thank them (and my lucky stars) that I have so many teachers and support staff who have this vocation to make a difference to the lives of the children and young people they teach. If as a consequence of reading this blog, you feel moved to thank a teacher, please do so – it will really make their day!








