5 minute read
Last Word
Ralph Varcoe (1984-89)
argues that the most valuable lessons come once you leave.
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An emotionally unintelligent Master told me that I was wasting the education St Paul’s was offering. Only, at 16 I did not really know what emotional intelligence was. I just understood I was a crushing disappointment because I was not Oxbridge material. My heart was set on music college partly because I did not have any other options, and partly because it was the family business.
It was 1987 and I was not much good at any of my academic subjects. Certainly not in comparison to the ‘10 A’s at O’ level brigade’. I sought solace in rowing and music. Only, as an asthmatic, I was never destined for the 1st Eight. One more thing I was not to be much good at. 1989, and so bad was I at English that the school agreed I could drop the A level. My remaining 2 were rubbish. A measly B and C. I proved the emotionally unintelligent but extremely perceptive Master right.
I told myself it did not matter because I was heading for a career in music. I auditioned for the Guildhall and got in off the waiting list. I turned it down. I was mad. Mad because it turned out that the thing I was supposed to be good at, singing, I was not even good enough to get in without having to wait for others to drop out. I really was not very good at much.
A year later I got in straight from the audition, which felt like the first thing I had ever truly achieved. Yet still, my father, uncle, brother and sister were all Oxbridge. All my school friends were Oxbridge or Russell Group. I felt like the thick one.
In my first year at the Guildhall, I entered the English Song Competition and sung ‘Silent Noon’ and ‘Ha’anacker Mill’. I was certain every other singer was 20 times better than me. As the judge summed up the competition and announced the winners, I thought about leaving the room. There was not any point in staying, was there? It would be an opportunity to have an awesome judge confirm what I already believed about myself – that compared to all the others, I was not much good.
“And the winner is….Ralph Varcoe”. Jesus! What? Really?
Stunned does not begin to describe the overwhelm that rose like a volcano from the pit of my stomach. Five years’ worth of emotion surfaced in a nanosecond. My acceptance speech would have made an over-emotional Oscar winner look downright repressed.
Life moved in different phases. I left the Guildhall and studied Homoeopathic Medicine. Then took a job selling sports club memberships. Then selling some software. Once I was in I.T., I carved a career out of nothing but fear and determination to prove myself – over and over. Each job I took, each promotion, I told myself that I needed to feel the fear and do it anyway. It worked. I made it to Global VP. I ran marketing and sales teams. People relied on me to define their growth strategy. How the hell did that happen? Did they not know I was the seriously mediocre boy from a school that saw me as a crushing disappointment?
But career success grew at the same rate as the impending divorce apocalypse. While I was doing well in one aspect of my life, I was melting down in another. This was a wakeup call.
Over the past few years, I have had much time to reflect, coming to the conclusion that St Paul’s was both the making of me and the foundation of a lack of self-worth. The foundation of self-worth issues should be obvious from the story so far; the making of me because these very feelings have driven me to strive and prove that I can be something. But, through all of that, I have also realised that none of it provided much joy or happiness – not a real sense of purpose.
Roll forwards to today and I have discovered a different way to be. Things in life fall into three categories – to do, to have and to be. Instilled from school age is the need to do the work, get the grades, do the things that were expected of the job, hit the numbers, do the tasks, have the car, have the nice house as a reward. It has always been about getting/having and doing. But nowhere along the way is there much about being. Being fulfilled. Being happy. Being a better person, partner, parent. Being a contributing member of society. Just being.
So, today, I focus on being content, grateful and comfortable with who I am, what I am and how I am. Not all days do I succeed, but most are there or thereabouts.
That epiphany moment hit me hard, and it was like a weight, lifting from my shoulders. I felt lighter as I realised, I need compare myself to nobody.
It did not matter that I was a crushing disappointment to the school – their issue to deal with.
It did not matter that I didn’t get 5 A’s at A level or go to Oxbridge – nobody else cared.
It did not matter that others were better than me at singing – in fact, were they better, or just different?
In these unsettling health and economic times, with Lockdown 3 in place at the time of writing and the vaccine programme running with ever more haste, the mental health of our nation has never been more important. We are penned in, locked up, fearful, without normal social interaction. And do not get me started on the abnormal social interaction and highly polished veneer that is social media. If ever there was a threat to the nation’s health, there it is. While none of us can do, or have, what we did, or had, before, we can focus on being – being who we are, without judgement or comparison.
To request a legacy information pack or to notify us of your intention to leave the gift of a legacy to St Paul’s and join the Colet Society, please contact:
Samantha Bushell, Development Manager, St Paul’s School SXB@stpaulsschool.org.uk 020 8746 5313
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