They took our fees and shut our school – now our lessons are in the village hall

Tucked away in a small village hall in Dorset are two makeshift classrooms. There’s no art brightening the walls, no science laboratories, not even a blackboard. Just a group of children seated at trestle tables, determined to carry on learning, aided by two teachers who have gone far beyond the call of duty. They’re a mere five minutes’ drive from their previous school, but in every other way, it’s worlds apart. They’re former pupils at Leweston School, the Catholic boarding and day school near Sherborne that closed abruptly on October 27 , in the middle of half term, leaving nearly 600 pupils and 180 staff reeling .

The disruption for pupils – many of them studying for GCSEs and A Levels – is immeasurable. But for staff, there was an added blow. Not only have all of them, from teachers to cleaners and dinner ladies, been left without a job, but their final month’s salary remains unpaid, just when the cost of living is soaring and Christmas is on the horizon. The closure is not an isolated blow, but part of a nationwide crisis that has seen more than 100 independent schools shut their doors since Labour imposed 20 per cent VAT on fees in January 2025.

Because many independent schools operate on thin margins with massive fixed overheads in staffing and heritage estate maintenance, the loss of even a dozen fee-paying families can quickly tip an institution into terminal insolvency. In the case of Leweston, which was founded in 1891 , some teachers are taking matters into their own hands when it comes to educating the children who have found themselves without a school. One is former deputy head Ollie McManus.

He’s juggling searching for a new job with finding new schools for his daughters, aged 14 and seven, who were pupils there, as well as teaching his former students. “I was blindsided by the closure,” he says. “On the Friday before half term, my wife and I bought a new winter uniform for our youngest daughter, who was at the prep school. “We had no idea this was on the horizon – there’d been talk about voluntary redundancies and belt tightening, but no whiff that it was so terribly serious.

“We’ve been in crisis mode ever since the announcement. I’ve had sleepless nights – between hearing the news on Tuesday and Saturday, my watch tracked that I had six hours of sleep. “I’m not alone, I’ve been exchanging messages with colleagues into the early hours. Many of us live month to month. I can cope this month, but after that, it will be very difficult. “Some colleagues have already signed on, some are even looking for jobs as Amazon drivers.

“These are amazing teachers who have always gone above and beyond, but they need work urgently.” Their dedication is apparent. Setting up the lessons was maths teacher Tom Enticknap’s idea. He lives in Longburton, where the lessons are taking place, and though he acknowledges there’s no substitution for a proper schooling, he was determined to give children a sense of still belonging and continuity. But behind his brave smile is the worry that his future is desperately uncertain.

Enticknap says: “My daughter was at the school. We don’t know where she’ll get a place and I need work urgently. But I feel we have to help if we can. The community hall space was given to us for free and I wanted to do something.” For parents suddenly left without childcare or classrooms, the gesture has been invaluable. “It’s an absolute lifeline,” says Rachel McAdorey, 48, whose children Lily, 12, and Oliver, 15, attend the sessions.

“We are so grateful to them for doing this.” The children are buoyed up by two of the school nurses, producing cups of hot chocolate and doling out biscuits they had bought with their own money. Among staff and parents, the immediate instinct has been to rally around others. They spoke of children with special educational needs and disabilities who will struggle to be accommodated by other local schools. One unnamed member of staff said: “Special-needs provision at the school was amazing.

They were building a new ramp as it shut. That’s how out of the blue it was.” They worried about boarding staff who lived on the site being left without a home – and reportedly without heating and water as they were urgently trying to find alternative accommodation. They voiced concerns about parents who have poured their life savings and inheritances into paying fees up front knowing it’s vanishingly unlikely they’ll get that money back.

Concern for others is an ethos that ran through the school. Leweston, a beautiful Georgian manor in the rolling Dorset countryside, was at the centre of this rural area – there was a community orchestra and choir. The local brownies met there, fitness and local swimming groups used the facilities. Now they’re left high and dry. In a rural area where facilities and meeting places can be few and far between, the school had become an important social hub.

While fees could be up to £38,000 per year, a huge swathe of pupils were there on discounted fees through scholarships and means-tested bursaries . This was not a school just for the elite rich , but for the sons and daughters of pilots, doctors and pub landlords, too. Pilates instructor Annette Martin, 45, was one such parent. She and her husband, who works in the military, scrimped and saved to send their eight-year-old twins Flo and Wilf to the prep school.

They were thriving there, competing in national schools competitions in various sports. Now they’re in a state of limbo. She explains: “ We paid the whole years’ fees up front, so it was done , and then I started saving again for next year. It didn’t feel like a gamble – the school has been there for 135 years. “We moved to the village three years ago and knew Leweston was the school for us. It was sporty and music was prioritised, too, and the wrap-around care was amazing, so I could work long hours to pay for it.

“The twins were so happy and it worked for our family. The sacrifices we made were worth it to see how well they were doing. People imagine if your children are at private schools then you’re rolling in money with brand new cars – but lots of us at Leweston aren’t. “Our cars failed their latest MOTs, I buy from Vinted and mend my clothes. The twins’ uniforms were second hand. We shop at Lidl and buy discounted food. These are choices we willingly made for our family , and I realise we were very privileged to be able to do that.

“But now we’re left in limbo. That money has gone and I doubt we’ll ever get it back. It makes me feel sick and I’ve had sleepless nights thinking about the future and what’s best for our family. “It hasn’t sunk in properly for the children. They can’t grasp the finality of it all. “We were allowed back into school to collect my daughter’s glasses. I’m haunted by the sight of those empty classrooms, my daughter’s artwork on the walls that I can never bring home.

“Those classrooms that were filled with light and laughter are now eerily empty. We must hold out hope that we can find it again elsewhere. But for now, I don’t know where that will be. “Priority is rightly being given to children who are doing exams soon. I’ve phoned round five local primary schools and they’re all full. “I’m desperately juggling my clients with teaching my children. But I’ve been cheered by the enormous wave of support both personally – with clients offering to tutor my children – and from the wider community, too, for everyone that’s been impacted.”

Angela Miah, 50, whose son Aaron, 15, is doing his GCSEs and attending the community-hall lessons, is beyond devastated. She was in hospital with her severely disabled 13-year-old son Reuben, when she heard the news. She says: “I’m a single mum and when I had to be in hospital with Reuben they’d let Aaron stay overnight in the boarding house. That’s the sort of school it is, they cared for me like a second family and now that’s been ripped away.”

The local community is indeed rallying round. There’s a hardship fund set up for all staff that has already reached nearly £30,000. Local schools are stretching themselves – secondary school the Gryphon, in nearby Sherborne, has taken in pupils so they’re now above their set admission numbers. Ex staff members and parents have even set up a rota to patrol the school to protect it from being looted. The Leweston Working Group, led by parents with financial, legal and business skills, are working round the clock to try to get the school up and running again.

But they need £10m to make the rescue operation viable and secure the school’s long-term future, and time is ticking away. They plan to reopen it as a financially sustainable, not-for-profit school with new governance and operational leadership. But Leweston’s battle to survive isn’t unprecedented. Earlier this year, Britain’s leading Jewish private school , Immanuel College, announced it was to close, blaming “significant and sustained” financial pressures among other factors.

But the £29,700-a-year secondary school later announced it would remain open after a £12.7m rescue deal was agreed . Many in the community are hoping Leweston will be able to follow suit. Among them is Craig Hardaker. For the past six years, Hardaker, who runs Communifit, has hired the school facilities to run five affordable fitness classes a week for locals, staff and parents. Up to 20 people attended per session – many formed strong friendships, one couple even got married after meeting at one of his classes.

Craig is now desperately searching for alternative premises for those sessions, but so far in vain. “Leweston was more than a school, it was a community hub – so many people are losing out,” he says. “This has affected my income, and I feel so sorry for my clients who relied on those classes. But I count myself as lucky. It’s the staff that I feel sorry for – everything has been snatched away from them. It’s desperately sad.” Local MPs have demanded scrutiny of the school operators’ actions.

Simon Hoare, Conservative MP for North Dorset, warned that the sudden timing “just doesn’t smell right”, pointing out that the financial pressures cited did not materialise during half-term week. Edward Morello, the Liberal Democrat MP for West Dorset, called the closure a “shock and a travesty”, insisting that “there are questions to be asked of the owners”. Until those questions are answered – and a rescue deal can be struck – Leweston’s 135-year legacy survives not on its historic 46-acre estate, but across a pair of borrowed trestle tables in a village hall.