A Jamaican Adventure: My Education at Kingston College (KC)

By: Baron Stewart

Winning a scholarship to Kingston College (KC) was the most critical event of my life. Attending KC changed the very fabric of my existence. I was no longer wandering around aimlessly; instead, I gained focus, structure, an incredible support system, and great self-esteem. As a child growing up, I had no direction. I just woke up every morning and went about my day, dealing with whatever came my way. I had no plans or vision for the future. I did not expect to go to college because I did not have the means, and where I lived, no one else did. KC changed all that. From the first day I entered in January 1960, I was surrounded by middle-class and upper-class Jamaican children. I remember one boy being brought to school and picked up by a chauffeur in a limousine. This was far out of the norm for me.

My new environment came with benefits. People in my neighborhood began to look at me a little differently. I was a KC boy. For the first time in my life, I felt respected. The school provided me with books, a rigorous curriculum, and some of the best teachers to guide my development. KC allowed me to transform from an ugly duckling into something I could be proud of.

A typical day in my life during my early KC days would start with a cold shower. We had no hot running water. The shower at Mrs. Maxwell's boarding house was a stand-alone structure with zinc walls and a partially open roof in the backyard. When I showered at around 6:30 am each morning, the water was so cold that I had to muster all my determination to venture under it. I would sing and jump up and down to distract myself from the discomfort. After a quick breakfast of tea and bread, I would rush to school in my khaki short pants, shirt, and purple and white tie—the uniform for KC boys.

School started at 8:00 am with a KC chapel service where we sang hymns, prayed, and received daily announcements. Next, we were off to our homeroom, where we had all our classes. When a teacher entered the room, the students were expected to stand until they indicated they could sit. The teachers taught from a platform at the front of the room, and we were scheduled to be on our best behavior at all times or suffer the consequences. Discipline at KC was strict. Any code of conduct violation was dealt with swiftly, often with detention or a trip to the assistant principal’s office, where you would get caned. The rule was four strokes for a standard offense and six for exceptional misbehavior. None of us liked the caning, but we understood its purpose. It was better to endure that momentary pain than risk losing my scholarship or being kicked out of school entirely. I knew how much of a privilege it was to be there. So many others were waiting for the same opportunity, and I could not let it slip away.

The personalities of the faculty at KC were larger than life to a small boy like me. First and foremost was the assistant principal, Mr. Crick, a 6-foot-2 fast-bowling cricketer with a big nose who taught Latin and was the head of the lower school. Mr. Crick was a significant character, and he knew it. He seemed to play along with our mischief. The kids would draw pictures of his big nose on every surface in the school. Every hymnal in the chapel had his nose drawn in it. Folklore has it that Mr. Crick's wife would come to the chapel for Sunday service and be surprised by the many drawings of her husband’s nose. Mr. Crick was also responsible for caning lower-school boys. He eventually grew tired of listening to boys explain how they were innocent of the charges brought against them. So, he made a new rule: he would cane you first and listen to your explanation later. One day, a boy came to his office trying to talk to him, but Mr. Crick stopped him and said, "I don’t want to hear what you have to say. I’ll cane you first and listen after." Mr. Crick caned the boy and then asked what he wanted to say. The boy replied, "Your wife is on the phone."

Another unforgettable teacher was Althea Young, my mathematics teacher. She had a profound impact on my life and became my lifelong mentor. She recognized my potential and guided me in ways that extended far beyond the classroom. Mr. Isaac Henery also played a pivotal role in my development. He taught me discipline and accountability, qualities that would serve me well. And then there was Douglas Forrest, the headmaster. To every boy at KC, he was a surrogate parent. His wisdom, charisma, and leadership made him a figure we all admired and respected. These teachers were more than educators; they were architects of character and pride.

KC also made me love mathematics and physics, which became my favorite subjects. These disciplines challenged my mind and gave me confidence in my intellectual abilities. Outside of academics, I enjoyed playing the drums in the cadet marching band. The rhythm, the discipline, and the camaraderie made it a special part of my KC experience. Once, I was offered the drum major position, but I declined because I didn’t think I could handle the responsibility. In hindsight, it was an opportunity I wish I had embraced, but the experience still taught me valuable lessons about stepping outside my comfort zone.

KC also instilled pride and self-esteem into my character. The school’s success in sports contributed to this feeling of belonging to something extraordinary. Whether it was track and field, cricket, or soccer, KC was a winner, and that winning spirit extended beyond the field to every aspect of our lives. By the time I left KC, I believed I could compete with the best students in the world. It gave me a sense of identity and confidence to carry me through my life.

Adapting to the middle- and upper-class environment at KC wasn’t without its challenges. My performance was inconsistent; one year I would excel, and the next I would struggle. However, the support and structure of KC always pulled me back on track. Those fluctuations taught me resilience and the importance of perseverance.

My time at KC profoundly shaped my views on education and discipline. I left the school believing that discipline is the cornerstone of success and that education can change lives. KC showed me that I could achieve great things and gave me the tools to pursue my dreams. It was a privilege to be a KC boy, and that pride remains with me today.