This weekend, I attended the funeral of Christopher, whose life ended in a car accident a few weeks ago. He was 20 years old. He was also a past pupil.

I should admit to a little bit of poetic licence here, in that, strictly speaking, Christopher started school the term after I left as headteacher. But bear with me.

A couple of years before, I’d sat with his parents and older brothers in my office, discussing a potential move to our school – I think Chris was in a buggy at this stage.  I remember it as if it were yesterday. It meant so much to me, that a family were prepared to move all their children to our school for its values, philosophy and culture. The move worked well and all three grew up to be great lads, one a good friend of my own son. The tragic accident last month has affected a whole community, who came out in their hundreds to grieve with the family.

At his funeral, Christopher’s father, Ged, spoke powerfully about how a whole community of family, friends, neighbours, teachers, even the postman, had made Chris the person he was. In turn, Chris had become a wonderful young adult, reflecting all that goodness and faith back on those who had formed him. Ged’s words were inspirational and, for me, they provided the perfect conclusion to something that had been bubbling away in my mind for a few weeks.

Over the last few months, there have been countless occasions when my world brightened on seeing or hearing about past pupils.  I’ve always felt that a school leaves an indelible impression on its pupils, a type of inner branding rather like that inside a stick of Blackpool Rock. But I’ve only half-believed it, recognising that there are so many influences acting on our young people, and that it can sound a little valedictory and pompous – ‘you’ll always be an All Saints pupil’, etc etc’.

Ged’s words convinced me I was right, or at least partly right. For the real dynamic is where the school works as one partner, in harmony with those other key influences on a young person – family, neighbours, friends, coaches, parish etc etc. Where these come together in perfect synergy, then this wonderful adult is formed.

Sometimes, one influence takes on more importance. Nothing gave me more pleasure this term than welcoming back Caitlynne to school for our annual Talent Show. When aged nine, she had stunned us all a few years ago by singing so beautifully and winning the show. Poignantly, it was only a couple of weeks after her mother had died. Some of the work put in by staff and support services provided Caitlynne with what she needed to move on with her life, full of confidence and belief. Coming back to our school last month, now seventeen years old, she made us all cry again with another sublime performance before taking up a place on the judging panel for this year’s show. That afternoon, school felt like a huge, loving family spreading out across the city, enveloping everyone with its warmth.

How could this not leave a mark on a pupil?

There is a famous African proverb that ‘it takes a village to raise a child’. In Liverpool, my place of work, legend has it that, throughout much of the last century, doors were left open to all and sundry, and children accumulated aunts and uncles like they now accumulate Match Attack cards.

There may be something of the rose-tinted spectacles here, but the defining consequence of this kind of upbringing is the number of people involved who are personally entangled with this young person’s development. They stand to gain so much spiritually and emotionally when that person, now bordering on adulthood, begins to radiate out such goodness, talent and happiness.

I think that is why staff are often reduced to tears when a past pupil returns, as in the case of Caitlynne.

And it was most certainly true of Christopher. Despite the tragedy of a young man’s life ending so abruptly, barely at the beginning of his adult life, he has provided an example of what can happen when all those influences work so perfectly together. Yesterday, the village that raised this particular child came together in grief, but thanks to the courage and leadership of his parents, the village also went away inspired.

Chris may have been a past pupil, but for me and I’m sure many others there yesterday, he will continue to live within us, not just in the past, but very much in the present.