It gives me enormous pleasure and pride to announce that Riya S (Year 11) has won the annual GDST Laurie Magnus Poetry Prize in the Year 10–11 category. Securing the top spot is an incredible achievement, as pupils from every school across the GDST enter this prestigious competition.
The Laurie Magnus Poetry Prize is one of the GDST’s longest-running and most revered accolades. It was established in memory of Sir Laurie Magnus, a dedicated GDST Council member from 1907 and Chairman from 1929 until his death in 1933, by his widow.
The competition invites original poetry from students across six age categories, with each school putting forward just one exceptional entry per category. For me, creative writing is far more than an academic exercise; writing poetry has always been an invaluable gift for processing complex emotions and understanding ourselves and the world we live in. My advice to all budding poets is to grasp these opportunities: sit with an idea, work at it, and reflect with it.
Riya’s evocative and deeply introspective piece perfectly captures this power of self-discovery.
The Museum of Almost
You enter quietly –
no ticket required –
and the guard (who looks suspiciously like you,
only better rested) nods you through.
Welcome to the Museum of Almost.
In the first room, beneath tempered glass,
rests the letter you never sent.
See how it glows – faint, but persistent?
It feeds on unsaid words.
Notice the careful creases:
hope folded, refolded,
then pressed thin as breath
into silence.
There is an audio guide.
Press your ear to the wall
and hear the life you might have had –
laughter spilling like loose change,
arguments about nothing at all,
kisses tasting faintly
of rain
and forgiveness.
Further along the corridor:
Careers You Could Have Attempted.
Each hangs from a peg like an abandoned coat.
Go on – try one.
The sleeves are always
just a little too long,
or a little too short,
as if the life inside it
belonged to someone almost you.
In a dim alcove,
Friendships That Might Have Lasted
flicker like faulty bulbs.
You remember them differently, of course –
in your version you were kinder,
braver,
less busy mistaking motion
for meaning.
The final exhibit is enormous.
It fills an entire hall.
A mirror.
You stand before
The Person You Might Still Become.
No glass this time.
No barrier.
No guard.
Only a small brass plaque,
polished daily
by possibility:
OPEN –
but not forever.
Wow! In the English classroom, we often grapple with ‘the real meaning’ of a text. What did the author intend? What was their purpose? What are we meant to think and feel, in response? Why? At A Level, we debate whether it is even possible for a writer to control how their work is understood and interpreted by its receivers!
With this in mind, it is very exciting to see such deliberate, sophisticated authorial intention in a student’s work. Riya spoke with me about her writing process not long after submitting the poem, demonstrating an exceptional maturity:
“One thing I discovered was how easily people (including me) can imagine that different choices would have led to completely different outcomes, when in reality every path probably comes with its own challenges.
It also made me think about how memory works, especially with friendships. When I wrote the part about remembering things differently and imagining that you were kinder or braver, I realised that it’s quite natural to look back and simplify situations in a way that’s a bit more forgiving to ourselves. That made me think more about how important it is to pay attention to those relationships now, rather than only appreciating them in hindsight.
I suppose the biggest thing I discovered while writing is that the feeling of ‘almost’ isn’t only about huge life decisions. It can come from small moments too: things we don’t say, opportunities we hesitate over, or times when we prioritise the wrong things without realising it. Writing the poem made me more aware of that idea, which is why the ending tries to shift the focus back to the present and the future rather than staying in regret.”
At Croydon High, it is a total privilege to unlock the writing and creativity of such fabulous young women. In the English classroom, I am so often reminded of Seamus Heaney’s brilliant concept of ‘casting and gathering’. This is a philosophy of poetry and curation he shared so deeply with Ted Hughes, in which both poets would take it in turns to artistically inspire one another.
So much of an English teacher’s life is spent ‘casting’, where we are throwing out lines of thought, literary theories, and sparks of inspiration into the room and seeing where the room will take it. Yet, one of the true joys of the profession lies in the ‘gathering’. When a pupil gives a piece of work as mature as Riya’s, the roles are beautifully reversed. It is a truly wonderful thing to step back from being the ‘inspirer’ and instead find myself completely inspired.
Miss Kitty Howie
Head of Academic Scholars
Second in Charge of English
