02/09/2026
In 1885, an eleven-year-old boy came from France to study at this ancient boarding school. He was shy and introverted, spoke with a pronounced French accent, and often felt out of place among his peers. Amid an unfamiliar culture, strict discipline, rigid religious traditions, and the exclusion of his classmates, the boy gradually learned to observe the world from the perspective of an outsider, and to reflect on human nature as it exists within the many constraints of religion, authority, culture, and identity. Many years later, this boy became one of the world’s most celebrated writers. His name was Somerset Maugham.
What is particularly poignant is that, after achieving fame, Maugham did not completely sever his ties with this formative chapter of his youth. On the contrary, he re-established a deep connection with his old school, becoming one of its important benefactors and donating a substantial part of his personal library to the school. There is little doubt that his experience at The King’s School, Canterbury, played a profoundly important role in his development.
For a young child, leaving a familiar environment for a foreign country and then entering a strictly regulated boarding school is, without doubt, a profound transformation in the process of growing up. The British public school of 1885 was, of course, very different from the traditional British schools of today. Education is no longer primarily shaped by rigid authority and religious doctrine; there is far more emphasis on respect, care, and communication between teachers and students. Yet traditional British schools still retain a strong sense of order and ritual: traditional dress, religious ceremonies, established curricula, codes of etiquette, and, in the digital age, strict rules governing the use of mobile phones and other electronic devices all remain part of school life.
The relationship between “discipline” and “freedom” is, in fact, worth reconsidering.
Freedom has never meant the complete absence of boundaries or restraint. On the contrary, genuine freedom is often built upon rules, self-discipline, and a sense of responsibility. Especially during the formative years of childhood, when guidance and direction are most needed, the purpose of a school is not merely to impart knowledge. It is also to help children develop a sense of order, responsibility, and self-restraint, while protecting their precious capacity for attention, so that they are not overwhelmed too early by fragmented information and instant stimulation.
It is on such a foundation that children can begin to direct their curiosity and capacity for learning towards richer and more meaningful pursuits: literature, art, music, science, history, sport, and genuine and profound human connection. When a child’s inner world becomes sufficiently rich and their mind sufficiently fulfilled, they gradually move from simply being “required to follow rules” to learning how to govern themselves.
Perhaps this is what is most thought-provoking—and most admirable—about the tradition of British independent-school education. Education is not understood merely as academic achievement or the accumulation of knowledge. Rather, within a framework of firm principles, clear order, and sustained self-discipline, schools seek to offer children a broad and enriching intellectual and spiritual world, while giving them opportunities for artistic cultivation, physical development, aesthetic appreciation, and the growth of an independent character.
Discipline is not the opposite of freedom. Good discipline may, in fact, be one of the paths towards freedom.
And perhaps this is what education matters most for: at a time when children have not yet developed the judgment to navigate the world entirely on their own, to provide them with a world that has boundaries and order, yet is also rich, expansive, and full of possibility—so that, in time, they may learn not only to discipline themselves, but also to choose the life they wish to lead.
