I don’t know if you’ve noticed lately, but schools are behaving a little like pop stars.

That’s right. They’re shouting about themselves from the rooftops, flooding social media and websites with all kinds of ‘Look at us! Aren’t we grand?’ messaging. League tables, national awards, scholarship schemes, glossy pamphlets plastered with images of impossibly bright young minds destined to conquer the world.

It used to be that schools taught children reading, arithmetic and perhaps how to sit through a whole meal without declaring that the potatoes tasted funny. Today, they’re running PR campaigns that would make a Hollywood publicist blush. They’re busy broadcasting what their ‘brightest and best’ are up to, as though their annual ranking in a league table is a measure of all that is good and worthwhile in this life.

And here’s the thing – it’s not just schools. We’re all at it. Everyone has been drawn into the siren song of self-promotion, lured in by likes, shares and comments. I too, confess to having been captivated by that little dopamine hit of validation which comes with a new ‘like.’ It’s addictive, I’ll admit. But where on earth has modesty gone?

Remember modesty? It was once considered a lovely trait; like a comfy sweater or a cherished book. Something to keep close to your chest. Now, modesty has been so thoroughly abandoned that if it walked into a room, no one would even recognize it. This has left me wondering, what happened to quietly celebrating others, to finding joy in the company of someone dear, to those warm moments hunkered down on the sofa or just watching the sun set?

Gone too, it seems, is the notion of letting things be. You know, like the tide rolling up and down, doing its thing without needing praise or recognition. Today’s values are less ebb-and-flow and more in-your-face. Less quiet satisfaction and more clamorous fanfare. Less calm, really. Somewhere on a heather-strewn hillside, Octavia Hill, who co-founded the National Trust to protect those special quiet places, is rolling her eyes.

It seems that to be noticed these days, everything must be big and bold. Less is more? Nonsense. In this world, more is more and the louder, the better. We are barrelling head-first down a slippery slope, trading substance for spectacle.

Schools too, are caught in this frenetic rush for recognition. But here’s a thought: watch the quiet ones. I’m not talking about the schools filling their websites with flashy awards and scholarship statistics. No, I mean the ones who are quietly preparing people for the world. They’re building confidence, resilience and kindness. This is not because it looks good in a newsletter, but because it’s the right thing to do.

These quiet achievers won’t be seen in the spotlight. You’ll find them subtly transforming lives and creating leaders who one day, might help realize those grand dreams of the UN’s Sustainable Development Goals. They’re forging partnerships, not for the likes and the applause, but because they believe in the quiet power of real connection.  Susan Cain had it spot-on in her Ted Talk, The Power of Introverts.

Whilst others scramble for attention, they’re teaching their students to savour the soft, dappled light – the richness of a life-lived for something greater than one’s own profile. They’re the kind who don’t mind waiting, who understand that true achievement doesn’t need a press release.

So here’s to them. Let’s give a little cheer (quietly, of course) to those who believe that life’s best qualities are in fact, the slow-cooked, quietly satisfying ones. After all, a well-baked gammon takes time. And a life with real meaning is something which unfolds in the soft glow of patience, kindness and maybe – just maybe – without a hashtag.

Or if you really want to shout about it, here’s an idea: find a nice mountain.

Yours,

Adam