The Business of Learning

Everybody likes a bargain. No matter where you go or whom you talk to, conversations invariably turn to some recent purchase that was a "steal", attesting to the outstanding bargaining skills or financial acumen of the speaker. Independent schools are no different. After all, we have a client base of parents who are spending a considerable amount of money to provide a service to their children that they could receive elsewhere for free. Consequently, it is the responsibility of every school to ensure that not only do they provide the best educational experience for every child, but that they deliver it in the most cost-effective way possible.

The Head and the Board of Governors have two complimentary responsibilities to ensure the long term health and success of any school. It is the Head’s job to design, staff and deliver the best possible educational experience for each and every child. It is the Board’s job to ensure that whatever we undertake is financially sustainable in the long-term. In a young school like Somersfield, where I am the Head, this is no mean feat! Without the large endowments and long lists of alumni that characterize many other independent schools, we have to operate pretty much on a “pay as you go” cash basis. The result is that we have to be creative and frugal at the same time. This is the month when we let parents know how deeply they are going to have to dig into their pockets to pay for next year. Although paying for schooling for their child is a bit of an act of faith, it is also critically important that they understand just where their valuable dollars are going.

To give you a baseline for comparison, the average per pupil cost of operating in the public system in Bermuda (excluding infrastructure costs) is about $23,000. At Somersfield (again excluding infrastructure costs) our per pupil operating costs this year amounted to about $16,000. We endeavor to be lean (but never mean!) in our operations, keeping our overhead as low as possible. However, a beautiful campus like ours cannot be created in under ten years without incurring significant debt. When you add in the costs of servicing and paying down a small portion of the price of constructing our fantastic gym, labs, and classrooms, our per student costs rise to about $18,330. By comparison our average tuition fee (when you factor in half-day students, and early payment discounts) is about $16,400.

Given that tuition doesn’t cover all of our expenses, where does the additional revenue come from? Somersfield does quite well in balancing its income. Tuition fees and other “hard” income (rentals of fields, gym, Common Room, playground, etc.) cover about 92% of our costs (that compares to an average of 85% in the U.S. and 90% in Ontario.) The rest is made up of donation income from Annual Giving, PTA fundraising and corporate gifts.

Where does the money go? Well, needless to say, education is a “people” business. Consequently about 70% of our budget goes to salaries, benefits, and professional development. At Somersfield, we pride ourselves on our ability to attract and retain the best faculty and staff members possible. This means offering competitive salaries and benefits and providing timely professional development to keep our staff current and on top of the latest trends and best practices in teaching and learning. Other major expenditures out of our budget include: bursaries and scholarships (5%); maintenance, repairs, and utilities (6%); classroom supplies (2%); general office and communications (2%); and loan interest and principal repayment (13%). At the end of the day, we do our best to keep costs down and quality up.

Okay, I’ll admit it, this is all pretty dry stuff! When I was being interviewed to come to Somersfield, I got asked whether I looked at the school as “a learning community” or as a “business”. The answer was, and is, simple. Independent schools are wonderful learning communities. However, they cannot provide a long-term, sustainable, positive and productive learning environment for the students in their care unless they are led and managed like a business. The two are not mutually exclusive or even in conflict. They are just the two key dimensions of any successful school.

That's the real "business" of learning.

Just another day in paradise.

In the future, when someone asks me what life is like in Bermuda, I will simply recount the time I spent in the company of the Transport Control Department (TCD) last week. After fourteen months of driving around the island in our little car and renting the occasional scooter from Oleander (they have my credit card on permanent file!), I finally decided to bite the bullet and buy a bike.

No 50cc scooter for me, I wanted something with some pep that would take two of us up and down the hills around our house without creating a major traffic jam. So, I found a nice, used 150 on E-Moo (Bermuda's "Craig's List") and plunged into the unknown world of motorbike registration. At first, it all seemed so simple. I had a bike, it was TCD tested, and it was insured until next January. All I needed were new plates (or at least a current sticker). Full of misplaced confidence, I arrived at the counter on North Street, took my number and sat patiently watching the three ads that play in a continuous loop on the plasma monitors at each end of the waiting area. When my number came up, I placed my documents on the counter, and announced my intention to license my bike.

A very pleasant (although no doubt long-suffering) agent read over my paperwork and uttered those dreaded words, “you have a problem” (As it turned out, this would not be the last time that this phrase would be used!) It turned out that the previous owner had received a “fitness” certificate, not a “transfer” certificate from the TCD and so it could not be used to register it in my name. “No problem”, she said, “just go outside and get the guys to change the type of certificate in the computer, and then come back in. I’ll let you jump the line when you return.”
I dutifully went outside circled the building in the wrong direction and finally found the bike “guys”. They cheerfully changed my form and sent me back in. “You have another problem”, she said. It was March 3rd, and my insurance was due to expire on January 31, 2011. As it turned out, to be valid, it had to expire no earlier than February 28, 2011. “Go down to Colonial Insurance, get it changed and I will let you jump the line when you return”. I dutifully went off, changed the policy, arrived back, jumped the line again (to the collective glares of everyone else).

“I can’t register your bike” she said, “you don’t have a motorcycle license. Your license is only good for cars and trucks”. No license, no transfer. So, I dutifully went around the back and made an appointment for a riding test for the next Monday. Monday morning I arrived back at the TCD. So as not to expose myself to possible legal action, I won’t recount how I got there with my still unlicensed bike but suffice it to say we both were there for the appointment. I was directed around the back.

“You have a problem”, the examiner said, “you can’t take a test on an unlicensed bike.” I explained my licensing dilemma—no license, no bike plates—no bike plates, no license. We both stood frozen in silence while he considered my plight. “Let me check inside he said” and returned in a couple of minutes “Nope, can’t be done”. “Can you borrow a bike from a friend?” I assured him that I had none. “Can I rent a scooter to take the test?” I asked. “Nope, you need a motorcycle, not a scooter.” Given that the test was just in the parking lot, I wasn’t sure of the legal ramifications involved, but there was no budging him. Then he made a suggestion that would never have occurred to me in Toronto. He said “Go to the bike shop across the street and see if they will lend you one.” I thought “Are you kidding me??! But, I was desperate. I walked in the door and sheepishly told my pathetic story to the salesperson. Before I was even finished, the woman who was working at the counter looked up and said, “Take mine!” I looked at her incredulously. She told her colleague to take a smoke break and drive her bike over to the testing range. It was one of the most wonderful random acts of kindness that I had ever experienced.
Fifteen minutes later, I was officially passed, licensed and waiting once again in line to get my plates. “You were lucky”, the agent said, “today was the last day of validity on your transfer test”.
Naturally, I thought.

But I also knew that faced with a bureaucratic maze, I was helped every step of the way by the advice and kindness of strangers. And, that is what life is like in Bermuda!