One fateful night, just before my 40th birthday, an overwhelming wave of sadness engulfed me, leading to uncontrollable sobbing. I was trapped in an unhappy marriage, with the pressures of being a working mom to three young children continuously mounting. As I experienced this emotional breakdown, my husband attempted to console me, but the one person I truly craved was my mother. I dialed her number, and she immediately drove over an hour to pick me up, taking me back to her home where she tenderly cared for me as if I were a child. While I was immensely grateful for her presence during such a difficult time, the experience was bittersweet. It dawned on me that she offered my adult self the comfort she had been unable to provide when I was a vulnerable child in need.
Years earlier, she had sent me away to boarding school, a decision many view as a privilege – a costly opportunity often granted to the elite. However, I came to perceive it as a punishment. Recently, a book titled “The Psychological Impact Of Boarding School: The Trunk In The Hall” shed light on “boarding school syndrome,” characterized by anger, depression, anxiety, difficulties in maintaining relationships, fear of abandonment, and substance abuse. While some argue that boarding schools cannot solely be held accountable for these psychological problems, the authors suggest that the most severe after-effects occur in pupils who felt rejected by their parents. Professor Susan McPherson of the University of Essex further explained that family dynamics and parenting play a crucial role in a child’s experience at boarding school.
I wholeheartedly agree that parental relationships are paramount; however, the institutions themselves should not be absolved of responsibility. In my opinion, there is no healthy way for children to be separated from their parents at such a young age. I experienced boarding school for five years, starting from the age of 11, and instead of feeling fortunate or grateful for my mother’s sacrifices, I resented the division it created between us. This decision affected not just my relationship with my mom but also played a role in my choice of partner as I sought security and feared abandonment.
Ultimately, when my marriage ended, those suppressed childhood feelings of abandonment resurfaced, leaving me once again feeling alone. Additionally, I struggled as a mother due to the lack of a template for normal family life. While this may sound extreme, as a therapist, I have encountered numerous former boarding school pupils who share similar sentiments, believing that their time away from family had a detrimental impact on their lives.
It wasn’t until years after completing my studies that I discovered the concept of “boarding school syndrome,” which suggests that repressed emotions surface in alternative ways. As evidence, I recall nightly episodes of vomiting in response to the distress of separation from my family. Astonishingly, the teachers never acknowledged the possibility that this vomiting stemmed from grief. We were intentionally forbidden from contacting our parents for the initial three weeks to sever the attachment. Later on, I was shocked to realize that many of the longstanding problems I faced, from an eating disorder to dysfunctional relationships, originated from that period of isolation.
Upon my arrival at Christ’s Hospital School in Horsham, West Sussex, in 1986, my expectations were far from reality. Despite my excitement, fueled by Enid Blyton’s tales of Malory Towers, a sense of adventure and midnight feasts did not await me. Prior to my enrollment, I was a cheerful child who shared a close, loving bond with my mother. However, when she dropped me off, there was no emotional release. My older brother had already been attending the school for three years, so it was a familiar environment. My fellow students whisked me away to explore the surroundings, a tactic to divert attention.
During those initial weeks without communication, I busied myself with a demanding schedule, forcing my emotions into submission. Expressions of vulnerability were ridiculed and only in hindsight did I realize that my vomiting episodes were a response to grief. Even after the initial three weeks, contacting home was challenging. With a single payphone serving seventy girls, weeks would pass without any phone contact. I would lie awake at night, consumed by fear that something had happened to my mother, but I had no means of checking on her well-being. Considering my father’s premature death from a heart attack when I was just one, it’s understandable why my paranoia flourished.
My peers faced similar circumstances, yet we never spoke about it. It was as if our home lives ceased to exist. Likewise, when it came to sharing our school experiences with parents, a code of silence prevailed. We were kept perpetually busy, shuttling between lessons, prep time, sports, music, and theater practice. This lifestyle creates overwhelmed adults who struggle to relax and unwind. During breaks, my mother continued to work long hours as an estate agent, leaving me without local friendships. Many former boarders find it challenging to answer the simple question of where they are from, as they often feel utterly rootless.
I never questioned my mother’s absence during holidays. Our relationship had become superficial, with little time or space for me amidst her hectic schedule. After completing my GCSEs, I left Christ’s Hospital School when the teachers informed me that I was not “academic enough” to continue to A-levels.
At the age of seventeen, I developed bulimia as a means of exerting control over my life. Eating and purging provided a temporary sense of empowerment. Unbeknownst to my family and friends, it continued until I sought therapy at the age of twenty-four.
Although Christ’s Hospital may have changed since my time there, in the 1980s, darker undertones tarnished my school experience, leaving me deeply scarred. Among pupils, it was an open secret that certain male teachers would invite “favorite” students to their homes in the evenings, serving them alcohol. While I was fortunate not to be targeted, it came as no surprise when several staff members, including our school chaplain, were convicted of sexual abuse years later. These convictions followed complaints from over twenty-two former students, with offenses spanning from the 1960s to 2001. Nonetheless, it wasn’t just these behaviors that left a lasting impact on me; it was the overwhelming sense of abandonment.
During my twenties, I began to harbor genuine anger towards my mother. I did not feel loved or significant in her eyes. This sentiment was shared by many former boarders I encountered, yet most refrained from expressing these thoughts to their parents. Only in therapy, during my late twenties, did I recognize that my eating disorder was a direct consequence of learning to suppress my emotions. When I eventually confided in my mother about my bulimia, she was horrified to learn about the connection to boarding school. She wished I had informed her of my unhappiness earlier.
Overall, the experiences I endured during my time at boarding school had a profound effect on my well-being and personal relationships. The concept of “boarding school syndrome” sheds light on the emotional turmoil experienced by former students, and it is evident that family dynamics and parenting play crucial roles in shaping a child’s boarding school experience. From my perspective, there is no healthy way to separate children from their parents at such a tender age. The negative consequences of such separation are far-reaching and can persist well into adulthood.
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