Immanuel will always be with us
Many of us alumni were devastated to learn that the school is closing after 35 years
Almost eight years ago I walked out of Immanuel College for what I thought would be the last time.
But of course it wasn’t.
Because since I graduated in 2018, I have been back to my alma mater at least half a dozen times – to give talks, be a madricha on the school’s Israel trip, and just say hi to old teachers.
So strong is the familial pull of Immanuel College, an institution which prides itself above all on “mishpacha”- “family” – that it feels almost impossible for former pupils to ever truly say goodbye.
That is why so many of us were devastated to learn that the school is closing after 35 years.
Founded in 1990 by Lord Jakobovits, Immanuel College is Britain’s only private Jewish secondary school.
It blends modern-orthodox Jewish values, a deep love and respect for Britain and Israel, alongside a high-quality secular education.
But all these facts tell you nothing about what Immanuel really is. Was.
Instead, I hope these personal encounters will.
I met the then Headmaster Philip Skelker for the first time during my entrance interview when I was 11-years-old. It was a brief encounter.
Yet, some 15 years later Mr Skelker has never forgotten my name.
He must have been the caretaker for thousands of identical-looking students across the several decades he was employed at the school.
Yet, he somehow remembered every single pupil.
Their name. Their interests. Their families.
And when I see him in Shul from time to time (he retired when I was in year 8) he still asks me about my career in journalism and reminds me frequently of my Immanuel College successes.
This is the spirit of Immanuel embodied in the man, once at its helm.
Then came modernising Mr Dormer, whose love of scholarship was such that he insisted on teaching an A level English class each year, in between headmastering duties.
He was a larger-than-life, yet approachable presence in the school, who always took a starring role in student-imagined YouTube productions including the annual Purim-themed music video, a mock “Dictator” trailer and an infamous re-make of the Hollywood film, “Fifty Shades of Dormer”.
When I reached out to old classmates and asked them to share their memories, the results were moving. It felt like stepping into a time machine to hear from old, dearly loved friends once again.
Some of our best memories may not be “quite appropriate” for your article, one conceded. But she reminded me of how we used to sneak extra helpings of dessert under the nose of watchful school dinner lady Jackie.
“Immanuel gave me the best friends in the world,” another ex-classmate wrote.
“Twelve of us still see each other every week”, she added.
Another described ICIT, the school’s flagship Israel trip, as “one of the fondest memories of my whole entire life”.
I concur. The trip imbued a strong, unshakeable love of Israel and Jewish life in my heart. When I close my eyes, I am still moved by the memories of that trip – tishes in front of the Kotel, wading through knee-deep water in skirts on one of the many tiyulim, lavish 5-star breakfasts at Kibbutz Lavi.
This trip and the one to Poland in year 12 were formative, causing me to pick up religious rites I still practice – including washing my hands before saying hamotzi and saying the first line of Shema before I go to sleep.
Despite the sadness I feel about the school’s closure, I know the lore associated with Immanuel will live on.
From the legendary C block spires, rumoured to be haunted by a ghost. The cows we used to name, watch and admire from the sports fields at the far end of the property. The hideously fluorescent yellow toilets in B block. And of course the E block portacabins (RIP) that dramatically burnt down in 2011, never to be replaced.
Much of the school’s energy exists in the legendary staff who brought life to the historic buildings.
Pam, the sweet school nurse, you could always go to for a hug. Ernest, the kind, smiley janitor, who radiated coolness.
Then the teachers.
Ms Sadeh, the germaphobic Ivrit teacher, who once scolded me for spoiling her 100 per cent A* record, with my measly grade A.
Energetic Mr Kerridge Phipps, who directed school plays, helped run the debating society with the legendary Mr Spitz, and organised walking tours of the East End.
The impassioned Jewish Studies and Beit Midrash teams.
Ms Amdurer. Mr Gooch. Mrs Shackell. Mr Baigel.
And on. And on.
In a group chat of alumni and ex-teachers, we spend the evening reminiscing about the school.
“Write that they used to put on a really good school play,” said one.
“Write about the tater tots on Tuesdays” added another.
It’s hard to sum it all up in just 800 or so words.
Immanuel was a one-of-a-kind, messy sort of school, born from the utopian dream that Jewish life could thrive loudly in suburban Hertfordshire.
And though it may be shutting for good this summer, the stories, memories and alumni will keep the school’s spirit alive for a few more years yet.
Sabrina Miller is the Whitehall Correspondent for the Sunday Telegraph
Keep community journalism free.
Jewish News is free for everyone. No paywall. No barriers. Just trusted journalism for anyone who wants to stay connected to Jewish life in Britain.
If you value that, please support us.
From as little as £5 a month, you can help keep our journalism free and accessible to all.
Every day, we report on the issues that matter to our community. We celebrate achievements, support charities, challenge antisemitism and ensure Jewish voices are heard more widely.
From as little as £5 a month, you can help us continue to:
- Report on the stories shaping Jewish life in the UK and beyond
- Bring our community together through shared stories, events and campaigns
- Celebrate the people, culture and moments that define our community
- Support organisations doing vital work across Jewish Britain
You can make a one-off donation or become a regular supporter. Every contribution helps keep our journalism free, independent and accessible to all.
If everyone who values Jewish News gave a small amount, it would make a real difference to our future.
