James Reeson, Head of Classics, explains how Bradford Grammar’s Classics department combines academic rigour with intellectual curiosity, guiding students to think critically, engage with the ancient world and develop skills that prepare them for future study.
When I look back at my own journey, it was at the point of choosing my A-levels that everything changed. An inspirational Classics teacher, Richard Hitchings, took me aside and asked a simple but pivotal question: “You clearly enjoy and excel at this subject — have you considered pursuing it further?” That moment made me stop and reflect on what I was genuinely drawn to. I switched my A-levels from sciences to Latin, Greek and French, and it marked the beginning of a path I have never looked back from.
I went on to study Classics at Newcastle, exploring Latin, Greek, ancient history and classical studies. It was a traditional degree, but one that opened my eyes to the sheer breadth of the subject: the analytical precision of language, the literary beauty of texts, the cultural depth of the ancient world. I loved it all — and I was captivated, in particular, by its grammar. One tense in particular, the future perfect, struck me immediately: a single verb form that imagines a point in the future and looks back on an action that has not yet happened. That slightly mind-bending way of thinking — imagining time from multiple perspectives at once — revealed to me how intellectually playful and rigorous Latin can be, and it has stayed with me ever since.
After Newcastle, I completed a master’s at Oxford, followed by a PhD specialising in Roman love poetry. The work was detailed and demanding: a close, line-by-line commentary on texts that required patience, precision and a deep engagement with minds separated from us by thousands of years. Alongside this, I began teaching — tutoring, lecturing and working within university departments — before eventually realising that it was the teaching itself, rather than research alone, that I most enjoyed.
I joined Bradford Grammar School in 2018 as a teacher of Classics, and more recently took on the role of Head of Department. The department here is strong, versatile and deeply committed to giving students a broad and inclusive understanding of the classical world. Over time, we have adapted our courses to reflect both the evolving interests of our students and the practical realities of modern education. While Greek is now being phased out — a small but historically rich part of our curriculum — we continue to teach Latin from Year 7 and offer Classical Civilisation at A-level, ensuring that all students, whether linguistically inclined or more broadly curious, can access the discipline.
That sense of accessibility sits alongside academic rigour. For me, Classics has always needed to be both: intellectually demanding, but open and welcoming. It should serve the exceptional students who wish to pursue the subject at university, while also offering something meaningful to those who may study it only for a few years. This ‘Classics for all’ philosophy underpins how we teach — and why we constantly revisit and refine what students encounter in the classroom, ensuring they experience not just the mechanics of language, but the ideas, stories and debates that give the ancient world its enduring power.
Classics is, in many ways, a ‘sandbox’ world: a self-contained universe in which students can explore language, literature, history and culture from multiple angles. For younger students, Latin acts as a kind of time machine, allowing them to visit societies that laid the foundations of Western thought. For older students, Classical Civilisation and set texts invite serious engagement with ethics, politics and power. Studying Athenian democracy, for example, quickly challenges modern assumptions: a system that laid the groundwork for democratic ideals, yet operated in ways that feel extreme or unsettling today — from compulsory daily voting, but only for men of a certain age, to generals executed after military victories because civic duty had not been fulfilled. These moments force students to ask difficult questions about justice, responsibility and citizenship, and to recognise that our own political systems are built on imperfect, evolving ideas.
One of our enrichment programmes, led by Beth Fallon-Mitchell – a member of the Classics department – exemplified this approach. Her sixth-form sessions, Classics and the Future World, used ancient texts to explore contemporary and forward-looking issues, from artificial intelligence to social dynamics, showing how ideas first articulated by Greek and Roman thinkers continue to shape debates about where society is heading.
In my teaching, I try to bring two things into every lesson: enthusiasm and context. Students should see not only how the language works or how stories unfold, but why they matter. Through Classics, students develop analytical precision by close textual study, and empathy by stepping into minds and cultures profoundly different from their own. These are not abstract skills. In a world increasingly shaped by automation and artificial intelligence, the ability to analyse complex material, communicate clearly and understand human perspectives is precisely what endures, and what machines cannot replicate.
For me, the joy of Classics lies in seeing students grow through their engagement with the subject. From those who may study Latin for just a couple of years, to exceptional students like Zinedine — our final Year 13 student taking A-level Greek, who has applied to read Classics at Cambridge — each finds something that challenges and broadens them. Like me, Zinedine began on a scientific pathway before choosing Classics instead, prompted by careful reflection on what genuinely excited him. Seeing that same moment of decision play out again is a powerful reminder of how transformative the subject can be.
“For me, the joy of Classics lies in seeing students grow through their engagement with the subject.”