From the Principal

Dear BMGS Families,

Celebrating Our ISA Teams

Before I turn to this week’s reflection, I want to pause to celebrate the achievements of our students in the recent ISA Winter competition.

I was fortunate to attend the finals for several of our teams, including our Netball squads, our Girls’ Firsts Football team, and our Boys’ 14s Football team. At the same time, our Boys’ Firsts Football team were playing at another venue, meaning I sadly could not be in two places at once!

As usual, BMGS once again punched above its weight. Of the five teams that reached the finals, four were victorious. But win, lose, or draw, I could not have been prouder of the way our students played, the resilience they showed, and the camaraderie they shared. Simply reaching the finals is an extraordinary achievement, reflecting the effort, talent, and dedication of our players and coaches.

What made me even prouder was the spirit in which our students and parents represented our School. After one match, a player from the opposing team said in the post-game speeches, “Congratulations to you, you are just such nice people, thank you for being so nice.” That, to me, speaks volumes about the kind of community we are building.

Congratulations to all our ISA teams on a remarkable season, and thank you to our parents and supporters who cheered, encouraged, and modelled sportsmanship at every game. Thank you also to Mrs Megan Harris, our MICs, our coaches and everyone who contributed to another successful ISA season for BMGS. We now look forward with great anticipation to the summer competitions ahead.

Creating Spaces for Belonging

Over the past month, I have been contemplating the stories we tell through the decisions we make. For example, when we leave work on time to be with family, it tells the story that relationships matter more than relentless productivity. Likewise, if we were to spend our free time with someone going through a tough season, it tells the story that loyalty and compassion matter more than convenience. 

In the busyness of our daily lives, it is easy to become driven by schedules, deadlines, and processes. But every so often, a question surfaces: how do we structure our environments and our routines so that they are more human-centred than process-centred?

This question matters for our well-being and that of our communities. As Christians, we understand the importance of rhythms and rituals that slow us down and turn our hearts back toward what really matters. Scripture reminds us: “Be still, and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10). In the early church we see this lived out as “they devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and to fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer” (Acts 2:42). Prayer, Sabbath, worship, and shared meals are not simply traditions, they are practices that orient us toward God and deepen our relationship with Jesus. These patterns remind us that life is not meant to be a constant rush of doing, but a rhythm of being, resting, and belonging.

I was reminded of this recently in a conversation with one of my colleagues who was from Finland. He told me about the practice of the sauna. For them, it was almost a spiritual experience. In his culture, the sauna is more than a place of warmth or relaxation; it is a place of community, of ritual, of renewal. People sit together in silence, or speak quietly, and emerge not only refreshed in body but somehow reconnected in spirit.

That story came back to me when I spoke with staff who are regulars at Blue Mountains Sauna in Leura. Nestled among the escarpments and bushland, it brings this ancient practice into our own backyard. More than cedar and steam, it offers an experience of belonging: pausing, being present, and remembering what matters most.

Enter Hygge

The Danes have a word for this kind of posture: hygge (pronounced “hoo-gah”). While it’s often described as “cosy” or “comfortable,” hygge is much more than that. It is a way of structuring life that places connection, presence, and belonging at the centre. It is an intentional posture that asks: how might our spaces and rhythms help us to live more humanely, more relationally, more fully?

This is a question worth asking of our schools as well. Every child who enters a classroom is taught not only by the teacher, but also by the environment itself. Educational thinkers refer to this as the “third teacher”: the space we inhabit. The walls, the light, the acoustics, the flow of furniture—all of these things speak to students. They either invite curiosity, creativity, and belonging, or they constrain them.

We must pause and ask: What do we believe a learning environment should look like? How should it serve the ends of education, not only filling minds but also shaping hearts?

Schools That Live the Posture

I have had the privilege of visiting schools around the world that live out this posture in tangible, inspiring ways.

At Hellerup School in Copenhagen, I entered a space that bore no resemblance to a traditional school. There were no fixed classrooms, no neat rows of desks. Instead, light streamed through open spaces, students perched on cushions or staircases, and learning flowed organically. It struck me that the very architecture was teaching: it was saying, “You are trusted, you belong, you have space to explore.”

At LearnLife in Barcelona, I found myself in what felt more like a creative village than a school. Studios, cafés, and gardens blurred into one another. Students moved with a sense of ownership, choosing where and how they would learn. What stayed with me was how the environment seemed to feed their curiosity and confidence. The walls themselves invited experimentation and conversation.

Closer to home, I visited Northern Beaches Christian School, where an immense architectural canopy stretches out like a living roof. Underneath it are bridges, ramps, and pavilions that invite students to gather, move, and learn in fluid ways. It felt like stepping into a landscape of discovery rather than a corridor of efficiency.

In each of these places, I was reminded that environments are not neutral. They are constantly shaping the experience of those within them. They can constrain or liberate, isolate or connect, diminish or enlarge our sense of what is possible. These schools show what is possible when design reflects a posture of belonging and trust.

Towards Hygge at BMGS

Here at Blue Mountains Grammar School, we are on this same journey. Our Learning Odyssey program in Year 7, our new pastoral structures, and our expanding partnerships and global networks are all part of shaping environments where students don’t just attend classes; they encounter a sense of belonging, agency, and purpose. Our Strategic Plan is informed by these same convictions under our Place, Space and Belonging channel: that environment is the “third teacher,” and that every wall, light, and corner should speak of possibility.

Just as a sauna is more than heat, and Sabbath is more than rest, so too a classroom can be more than four walls. It can be a place that whispers: you belong here, your learning matters, we are in this together.

This is our task and our opportunity as a school community: to ensure that the environments our young people step into each day are not only places of instruction, but places of transformation. Places that carry a posture of hygge, and a posture of Christ, where warmth, belonging, and hope are at the centre.

Warm regards 

Steven Coote 

Principal 

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