The drive up to Leweston School in Sherbourne, Dorset, is haunting. 

Instead of the 135-year-old grounds being alive with laughing students, bustling staff and the warm glow of well-lit rooms, the buildings lie empty. There is a small but growing pile of post at the door while vans, branded with the school crest, have fallen leaves building up at the wheels.

But instead of this week seeing the return of the day students and start of GCSE and A-level mocks, on Tuesday 27 October everyone was suddenly informed that the school was shutting with immediate effect. This left 577 pupils and nursery kids without places, approximately 200 staff without jobs (or their pay packet for October) and hundreds of shocked, sad, and angry parents.

Leweston is just one of the 117 private schools that have ceased operating since the introduction of VAT to school fees in 2025, according to the Independent School Council, but it has the dubious honour of experiencing the most abrupt closure. Concept Education, a subsidiary of which took over the school in November 2025, didn’t even inform Dorset Council that they were shutting – they found out when parents started frantically contacting the MP for West Dorset, Edward Morello. As it was half term, the admissions services and headteachers of other schools were away, leaving everyone scrambling. The council and Inspired Learning Group, an independent education group, have done their best to find places for every pupil, but several children are still out of school. 

In the days since the announcement, life has been chaos. The school’s new equestrian centre was broken into on Saturday (nothing was taken as everything had been moved the day before); boarding staff and international students are still on site without power or heat; all the local nurseries are full so parents of very young children are having to scramble for childcare or take unpaid leave; students with more complex needs still don’t have places; and parents are left wondering where their fees have gone. One parent I spoke to had spent £42,000 for both his children’s fees up until the end of the year, saying “we’re not sure we’ll get any of it back”.

Parents are demanding an inquiry into the sudden boarding closure and local MP Morello is backing them to the hilt. In a statement to The i Paper, he said:

“I am extremely disappointed in the fashion with which Concept Education have handled the closure. They provided no notice to parents leaving 577 students with nowhere to go to school after half term. They left staff unpaid, unemployed, and in some cases, homeless. They left local suppliers out of pocket. They failed to notify Dorset Council or the Department for Education so plans could be put in place.

“It is a complete failure of their responsibilities as owners to their employees, families, and the local community. There are questions that need answering as to how the directors of Concept could allow this to happen. There are questions as to whether regulatory and financial oversight of this sector is adequate. While the priority remains helping students find places and supporting Leweston staff, I also want to make sure that those responsible are held to account.”

Concept Eductation’s CEO Hugh Dickinson has rejected claims of bad faith made by parents saying the situation was a failed rescue attempt rather than deliberate deception, and is cooperating fully with investigations. In a letter sent to parents last weekend, he said that information had been withheld as there was fear it would cause a mass exodus of pupils causing the school to close sooner. He claimed that “unanticipated financial issues emerged” after the group bought the school and that the school’s issues were “far beyond anything we could have anticipated” laying some blame at the door of Labour’s introduction of VAT on school fees. He said Concept had tried to save Leweston by talking to shareholders, former governors and potential investors but these negotiations fell through, preventing them from meeting the October payroll. He also disclosed during a company webinar that Concept’s shareholders and lenders lost their capital in the liquidation.

But aside from the ongoing – and clearly necessary – investigations, there have also been incredible instances of community support. A WhatsApp group of parents, teachers and volunteers has been assembled to fight back against the closure, drawing together PR, comms, lawyers, educators and a sea of helping hands. There has been a Leweston Hardship Fund set up to support staff; a local business group has created a jobs board of local vacancies; as of 1 November, £450,000 has been pledged to the working group fighting back; and pockets of volunteers have been setting up impromptu patrols, lessons, and emotional support.

I have been driven onto the empty site by Bea Atkinson, a farmer, caterer and former student of Leweston School whose two children, George (nine) and Grace (seven) lost their school places last week. She and a small group of volunteers have been patrolling the school overnight in pairs or trios in vehicles after dark to prevent further break-ins. Atkinson discovered some lights she got from Amazon for the farm actually shone red and blue – “I turned my farm truck into a bit of a police vehicle”. When I meet her that morning, she had just woken up after a 10pm to 3am shift.

“There have been some shady characters testing the boundaries here, including break-ins at the new equestrian centre on Saturday night,” she tells me. “A small group of us have decided to do night shifts to protect the school.” She says that the response from Concept Education was “blunt”. “They said they’ve got no money and can’t pay for any form of security whatsoever. Perhaps the Dickinson brothers [who run Concept] could come and do it themselves. I have suggested it.”

The parents, she says, feel a sense of ownership – not least because their deposits (£500 a pupil) are still tied up. But she also expresses the strain that she, and all the other parents are under. 

“I think the cut-off for our patrolling is this weekend. We are all so very tired and have our own problems finding our children schools on top of our everyday jobs.” Her two children are currently at the local school, although it can’t confirm if it can offer them permanent places because staff are unsure of whether they can accommodate George’s education, health and care plan (EHCP). Bea currently cannot access it: they have been shut out of all the pupils’ records.

Bea has tentatively accepted the loss of the fees (she paid for the term for both her children, over £10,000 in total) but tells me that the deposits she’d put in for school trips were miraculously saved by one teacher who found their way into the system to refund several parents. That teacher was subsequently blocked from the system and marched off the property.

She is incredibly suspicious of the whole thing: “Why did they wait until after we’d paid our fees? Where has all that money gone?” But what really affects her is when she talks about the teachers. With her voice breaking, she tells me about picking up her son’s teacher from the classroom floor when they found out. “It just breaks my heart because they are all so broken. And it’s not just that they haven’t been paid, but that they won’t see the kids anymore.”

She then introduces me to Isabel James, another parent who drives up to meet me.

Two years ago, her son Henry (now eight) became paralysed from the neck down due to a rare neurological disorder caused by inflammation of the spinal cord and was put in an induced coma. They spent four months in hospital until they could wake him up, while Isabel travelled back and forth between Leweston, where she dropped off her daughter Florence, now 11, and the hospital. Her husband works full-time in London and she says that thanks to the school, she didn’t have to navigate it alone.

“They became just like family to me – they took such good care of Florence while I was travelling to see Henry. And the first thing Henry said when he came out of his coma was, “I miss my friends; when can I go back to school?”

She tells me that Leweston “moved mountains” to make the school accessible for Henry. “I can’t tell you how much I cried because they did everything – they gave me my life back. They trained to recatheterise him, they’ve moved the classes around, they’ve built him a desk and raised money for an electric wheelchair so he could do cross country with everyone else.”

The best thing, she adds, is that no one singles him out – and she is distraught at the fact this will likely change. “It’s devastating. I don’t think Henry realises his disability is a disability – he’s so great at getting on with things and doesn’t know an environment when he’s not encouraged or supported.”

As yet, they’ve not found a place for Henry that can accommodate his needs.

Camille Turner, who comes by with her mother Carol Rallings and her daughter Scarlett, 14, is in a similar situation. Carol and Camille have done their own night shift this week, in between trying to find Scarlett a place – Camille works full-time and has had to take unpaid holiday to manage. Like Bea, Camille went to Leweston and tells me that Scarlett has thrived there. “The news has ripped a hole in our hearts. My daughter is autistic and has dyslexia and ADHD. We needed to get her through her GCSEs and this was the only nurturing place in the area that could support her.” They have applied to all the local schools but says they’ve had rejection letter after rejection letter – “They can’t provide her a teaching assistant, even though it’s fully funded through her EHCP”.

Later that afternoon, five minutes down the road at Cam Vale Community Hall, you can see the aforementioned nurturing in action. Former teachers have set up lessons for students to go through their GCSE and A-level mocks. This arm of volunteering was led by maths teacher Tom Enticknap who, together with former deputy headmaster and English teacher Oliver McManus, has held afternoon sessions in the few hours they have spare. 

“After a couple of days of being angry about the closure, my main concern is that the students, particularly exam year groups, were not going to have any input,” Tom tells me. “Our Year 11s and 13s have got mocks this week. So I thought I could offer core support on maths, I asked Ollie if he could do English, and the village hall staff said we could use the space as often as we want.” He is teaching for two hours that day, prepping for a job interview the next day, and organising a new school place for his daughter (Mia, 12). Like all other staff, he was not paid for October and was underpaid in September – they were promised the shortfall would be made up in the next month.

Everyone I speak to says this level of volunteering is finite. For instance, if Tom gets this job, it’s an immediate start; also, the patrolling parents are exhausted. The parents and teachers who have been completely rocked by this must also get on with their lives. In the meantime, Edward Morello tells me that they are actively doing all they can to understand why this happened.

But if there’s one thing this experience has shown them, it’s that there is more community spirit in that part of rural Dorset than they realised.

Vicki [who declined to share her surname], who is helping co-ordinate comms and PR and had two children in the prep school, cannot meet me that day as she’s viewing schools. She tells me that if there’s one good thing that came from this nightmare, it’s the amazing surge of support. “All these people coming out of the woodwork with these skills – we had no idea. We just used to drop our kids off and only talk about them. We had no idea everyone could contribute so much.”