School returns to the Lawrence principle

Suddenly, after its deafening climax, the classical music which permeates the school corridors every break time stopped. In the silence which followed, more than 500 teenagers sat down relatively quietly - some would say miraculously so - at their desks.

"I'm a very keen follower of Pavlov," said headmistress Marie Stubbs. "The idea is that children get used to the fact that silence means work, and work means silence. It works."

For the past year, the softly spoken Scot has been headmistress - she rejects the more politically correct "head teacher" - of St George's Catholic School in Maida Vale, where headmaster Philip Lawrence was stabbed to death six years ago.

Credited with transforming what has always been one of London's most difficult schools, Mr Lawrence paid an appalling price for his commitment to his pupils. He was killed at St George's gates as he sought to protect a boy from a group of truants from another school who were engaged in a vicious gang war.

His death prompted much public soul-searching about the place of morality in the school curriculum, together with a parallel and rather more practical search for means to protect teachers and pupils from random violence.

Now, after a descent into criminality

and chaos, St George's has been "turned round" again by another charismatic head, brought out of retirement to give it one last chance.

It is expected that in March the school will be given a clean bill of health by Ofsted inspectors. Soon afterwards, Mrs Stubbs will return to her retirement. Her husband is Sir Bill Stubbs, chairman of the Qualifications and Curriculum Authority, the Government's exams watchdog. He is already looking forward to daily ironed shirts and cooked meals.

But what does the future hold for St George's? Two high-profile, energetic and talented heads have shown what inner-city schools can achieve, but also demonstrate that it takes extraordinary people to lead them.

The shock waves generated by Mr Lawrence's death were profound. As a result of its notoriety, St George's lost pupils and found it hard to attract teachers. Academic achievement and discipline slumped while truancy levels rose alarmingly. At one stage, pupils were missing more than 15 per cent of school time.

Three years later, Ofsted declared the school officially "failing". Despite praise for the efforts of Mr Lawrence's successor, Margaret Ryan, inspectors found that too many children were falling short of their potential.

Zero tolerance of bad behaviour was the bedrock of Mr Lawrence's policies, leading him to exclude 60 pupils during his three years at St George's. In failing the school later, inspectors said good teaching was "often thwarted by teachers' inability to manage pupils' behaviour effectively". Staff, they said, were "too tolerant of inattention" and of "poor punctuality, behaviour and response to homework".

Ofsted's judgment left St George's facing an uncertain future, with ultimate closure a real possibility. Indeed last February, two years on, the school's descent into anarchy forced Westminster education authority to close it for two weeks, admitting it could no longer guarantee the safety of staff and pupils. This followed a spate of fights which left a pupil in hospital and a teacher with whiplash injuries. In another incident, every car parked at the school was vandalised.

Mrs Ryan and a deputy resigned and Westminster and the Roman Catholic diocesan education authorities turned to private education company Nord Anglia to put together a "hit-squad" which would give St George's one last chance. Enter Mrs Stubbs, with Sean Devlin and Tracey O'Leary - two deputies who had worked with her at Douay Martyrs School in Hillingdon - and a Pavlovian revolution. Its essence is that children respond to carrots as well as sticks.

Today, St George's is unrecognisable from the school Mrs Stubbs inherited. The corridors are empty of the children who used to roam at will while lessons were supposed to be going on. There is "zero tolerance" of bad behaviour again and a strict discipline code. In 12 months, Mrs Stubbs has excluded only "half-adozen" pupils. She said: "I will have no compunction about permanently excluding a child who steps over the bounds of acceptable behaviour. But you have to get the children on your side."

Ultimately, rules can only be enforced effectively if pupils understand what is in it for them. Tough targets have been set for attendance, which is now running at more than 90 per cent. Children who arrive late will find staff at the school gate wanting to know why. Truants will find the school on the phone to their parents the minute they are missed. But there are many reasons now for the children to want to be at school.

There is a wider curriculum, a new art room, new computer facilities, more careers education and work placements, plus prizes for good behaviour and achievement. A May ball was held for senior pupils. Children are working with professional designers on a "make-over" of their dining hall and high-profile visitors have inspired pupils to widen their horizons, including Kevin Keegan, Frank Bruno, Lenny Henry, surgeon Nadey Hakim and RSC star Ralph Fiennes.

Pupils share rugby coaching by former England star Roger Uttley at fee-paying Harrow School; there are links with a sixth-form college

in Sweden and Westminster University students visit to open pupils' eyes to the possibilities of higher education. "The children weren't the problem," said Mrs Stubbs. "Like all children, they respond to what they receive."

When Mrs Stubbs arrived, teachers sought to contain disorder by ever tighter restrictions. At break times children went out to the playground, a breeding ground for bullying and violence, and the doors were locked.

She met each child individually and shook them by the hand. "The first thing they said was that they wanted to come to school. I decided to open the school up. It is now open territory," she said.

BREAK times are now busy with clubs, activities and societies and the school is about to stage its first production for years, a musical based on the film Sister Act. This isn't quite what was expected of a new regime advertised as "disciplinarian".

"The children thought I was mad," said Mrs Stubbs as she explained the "contract" she offered them. "It was a hurt community. They were angry. They knew they should be having a better deal. We told them the school belonged to them. That they were the clients and we were their servants. That we were here to make sure they had a happy time and learned well.

"But we told them that in order to do that, we would be setting out some clear rules. It might be their school, but that didn't mean they could do what they liked."

It hasn't all been plain sailing. Teacher unions said Mrs Stubbs was trying to achieve too much, too soon. Last summer, eight staff left. "People who weren't on mission left," she said. "My expectation of staff is that they enjoy working with the children and, in a professional sense, that they like them. The people who took the places of those who left chose to be at St George's. They liked what we are trying to do. Now everybody is on mission."

There were 80 applications for the vacancies, a very high number in light of the present teacher recruitment crisis, and the school has virtually no supply teachers. GCSE results this year were down on the year before, with around one in four achieving five good grades. But that was expected after the disruption of the past 12 months and hopes are high for the future.

Wendy Kamel, a parent and welfare officer at St George's said: "The attitude of the pupils has changed dramatically. They are now ready to come to school and enjoy the day. They can see they are going forward, that they're going to achieve good results, that there are opportunities for them."

But what happens when Mrs Stubbs returns to retirement? She rejects "superhead" status. "A new head will be appointed and there are systems in place now of lesson planning and target-setting and good-quality teaching. The students are focused and there are good schemes of work. That's what matters and that will carry on long after I am gone."