The house system and the enhanced powers of the prefects were two examples of the Rector's willingness to experiment. Mr Hope was in many ways an apostle of change, not for its own sake, but as a means of ensuring that the school would continue to meet the changing demands of society. In order to prepare pupils for the world outside of school, a re-assessment of the curriculum was vital:

A first class mathematician, Mr Hope soon attacked with clear logical vision the rigid classic pattern to which the school had long been accustomed. First to change were the timetables and the possible combination of subjects which each pupil could choose. Never had the horizons opened so wide for individual desires; never did the leaving certificate lists show such variety and number. There was no narrow-mindedness here; no preferential courses; each was judged on its own merits and the end in view. Technical, homecraft and art stood at last on a level with English and mathematics. Languages were no longer limited to Classics, French or German; a pupil could and did opt for Spanish, Russian, Italian and even Japanese.

Such an expansion in the choice open to pupils did create its problems. The school timetable had to be drastically overhauled, specialist staff had to be recruited, the necessary textbooks and equipment had to be found. As a former Director of Education, Mr Hope was ideally suited to tackle these problems and many a head of department had cause to be thankful for the manner in which the best texts and materials were miraculously obtained.

The pupils now had a wider range of subjects from which to choose but this was not enough for some of them. Complaints were nevertheless heard that the scheme of work in certain subjects was still far too traditional:

The occasion is now long overdue for a complete revision of the literature syllabus in the English Department at Harris which is as dull and dreary as ditchwater. The works of Thackeray and Scott which, with the exception of Dickens, constitute the staple diet of the Leaving Certificate candidate, are sadly lacking in interest and have little appeal in this modern age. "Henry Esmond", for example, must be the most dreary and tedious novel which is read in the whole of the course. In common with certain of the essays of Lamb, it is overwhelmingly sentimental and inexpressibly dull. The majority of Scott's Waverley Novels are equally dreary and are of little value to the schoolboy who merely wishes to write reasonably correct English. The "Home Reader" has become a bore - it should be a pleasure.

Such complaints are often levelled at schools but are, in many cases, far from fair since the syllabus of departments tends to be determined, not by the preference of the staff, but by the dictates of the examination board. They do underline, however, the amount of work which was expected of the pupils.

Such work was not confined to the classroom, for all pupils were accustomed to regular nightly homework and a specially heavy load of preparation over weekends. For some pupils, home circumstances made it difficult to find peace to complete their home assignments but the Rector soon made arrangements to ensure that they had no excuse for slacking. A "Homework in School" scheme was started in 1952, where such pupils remained in school for an extra hour to complete their homework under the supervision of staff volunteers. At first, a regular attendance of about 80 pupils seemed to justify the experiment but gradually the numbers dwindled and the scheme was finally wound up in 1954.

As always, the children's progress was checked by regular exams, a procedure that most pupils found an ordeal whether they were in the Primary department or nearing the end of their days at school. For primary pupils, the dreaded "Qually" was all important:

On a certain March morning, the pupils of Primary 7 enter the school looking far from happy. They then stand around in groups, whispering anxiously. When the whistle blows, they enter school as if going to a funeral. After entering the classrooms, many of them produce lucky charms which they lay on their desks before them. The teacher comes into the room, carrying the exam papers, and all the murmurings cease. At the start of the exam, the pupils lean forward over the papers; then, when given the signal to start, they begin to scribble feverishly as if their lives depended on it.

Having successfully negotiated this hurdle, pupils found that life in the secondary was no easier. Exams were still of paramount importance, although occasionally a kind providence provided the pupils with temporary relief. Who will ever forget the day when first to fourth year were seated at their desks glumly awaiting the start of the Geography exam, only to discover that the exam papers had mysteriously disappeared? Despite the heartfelt prayers of the pupils, such unexpected relief was rare and exams continued as normal, becoming steadily more difficult until, in fifth year, the daunting prospect of the "Highers" had to be faced:

This brings me to the blight of the overworked, underfed, persecuted fifth former - the Higher Leaving Certificates, a refined and very unpleasant torture which pretends to test your non-existent knowledge, and which does you no good but merely causes severe mental fatigue and paralysis of the right hand among the boys and hysterics and emotional scenes among the girls.

The "Highers" were not, and still are not, a pleasant experience. Once they were over, however, there were compensations :

Now there are no more exams for fifth. You can lie back and indulge yourself in the spectacle of first, second, third and fourth all sweating blood in their efforts to swot for their second term exam. From your lofty throne of "almost sixth year" you can lean down and patronisingly lend these inferior minions a helping hand: "I advise you to swot that up. I remember it turned up with us". This privilege makes up for the months of backbreaking work and almost makes fifth year worth living.

While the school was dominated by the need for hard work and the necessity to pass exams, it would be wrong to pretend that pupils were always conscientious and diligent. As in all institutions of any size, problems could arise. Most of these problems were the same as could be found in any school in the country - occasional truancy, smoking and "playing pontoon for money" - and were normally dealt with in the traditional way. Sometimes, however, the pupils showed a little more inventiveness in their mischief:

25 June, 1954 : Reported that a teacher's gown, property of Miss Campsie, had been removed and strung up on flagpole. Also that a teacher's car had been turned round in Crawford Lodge garage. Culprits could not be discovered.

Such deeds, however, pale into insignificance when compared to the ultimate protest registered by some of the senior pupils - the daubing of the slogan "NO HOPERY" in the inner quadrangle alongside the assembly hall. Whether the grievances of these pupils were real or imagined, the evidence of their dissatisfaction is still clearly visible, despite the efforts of numerous janitors to erase it.