Chrishan Raja
was Head Monitor in 2006-2007. After leaving MTS, he
read Law at Magdalen College, Oxford and Harvard Law School. He now
works for a Wall Street law firm in New York City, London and Washington,
D.C., where he is currently based
Concordia
Merchant Taylors’ School
A
s I sit and attempt to do
justice to my time at Taylors’, it is
hard to believe that over six years
have passed since I last donned that
grey suit (boring but easy, I always
thought – I hear today’s 6th Form has
more trouble). That said, having left
more recently than the other Head
Monitors whose experiences have
filled these pages thus far, I apologise
in advance if this piece takes on
the same character of “stream of
consciousness” recollection of which
J.G. Brown often accused me during
A2 History. Above all, I hope that
the following encapsulates, to some
degree, the school as I knew it; if, in
doing so, I give my peers pause for
laughter then all the better.
The MTS that I joined in 2000 appeared
extremely daunting. I’ll never forget that
first day, squeezing through the green
door at the entrance to the “table tennis
lobby”, amazed at the sight of so many
pupils who seemed to know exactly what
was going on. Then Head Master Jon
Gabitass’ ability to memorise every new
student’s name was well documented
and so came as no great surprise; more
shocking, however, his ability to chase
down Tom Davies during U12 rugby!
The school seemed to foster an almost
tangible spirit of endeavour, a constant
encouragement to students to push
themselves in whatever discipline(s)
they saw fit. Without making a conscious
decision to be so, I found myself occupied
every lunchtime with a myriad of “extra-
curricular” activities, ranging from sports
to music and drama. It felt so easy to get
involved because there was so much on
offer and – well – everyone seemed to be
doing it.
What springs to mind most when I
think of the school is the cast (and I use
that term deliberately) of characters, both
students and teachers alike, with whom
interactions took place on a daily basis.
This formed a key element of life at MTS
which may, I feel, be often overlooked. My
contemporary, Peter Belden (erstwhile
CCF dropout and self-styled intellectual,
now WestPoint graduate and First
Lieutenant in the United States Army),
habitually vaunted my memory for small,
often useless, details. Please allow me the
indulgence of now putting this to good
use:
As 3rd Formers, my year had the honour
of Latin with either D.J. Critchley or M.C.
Husbands (I kid you not), the former
being the only teacher who continued to
wear his Master of Arts gown during every
class. These contained as much Latin
as they did every other philosophical,
political and religious subject obliquely
referenced in the texts being studied, and
I remember being stunned by David’s
general knowledge of everything. I was
fortunate enough to be taught by him for
three of my first four years of Latin, during
which time he became a trusted adviser
and mentor. It came as a wonderful
surprise when, during my final weeks as
Head Monitor (three years after David had
left the school), I received a letter from
him congratulating me on being accepted
to read Law at Oxford, apologising for the
delay in communication and, of course,
offering some words of advice.
Such strong affinity with teachers was
common in the school as I remember it; to
this day, conversations with other OMTs
are punctuated with memorable instances:
J.G. Brown’s extraordinary memory for
facts; N.G. Blight’s superhuman arm-
wrestling ability; and Roger Coode’s
French accent (impossible to replicate),
to name but a few. On a personal note,
GCSE Biology with N.T. Richards was a
particular highlight, with our initial fear of
the omnipresent “pop quiz” soon turning
to deep appreciation of a teacher whose
passion for his subject was matched
by a wicked sense of humour, often
with hilarious consequences. For one,
the practical demonstration of a reflex
