Open the door and step inside this place. What do you see? Today, early morning sunlight slants across the empty corridors, unbroken until the bell rings and fills this place with noise, shape and shadow. Tomorrow, howling wind might shoogle the window panes and interrupt the spelling test. Rain and snow and sleet and hail all do their best, but this place stands firm, unwavering in its mission to keep us warm and dry. Barring the leaky roof, of course - but there are buckets for that.

This place has an eccentric boiler that means too-hot mornings and too-chilly afternoons, but we don’t much mind. We have learned through walking miles along the corridors and shivering at the photocopier that layers and comfortable shoes are our best friends in this place. In this place, a cardigan is always the answer.

You can always tell what’s for lunch in this place. Garlic bread toasting in the oven, apple crumble bubbling away, the wafting scents arrive before the bell, letting us know it’s almost time. And in this place, there’s enough for everyone. This place has extra bread, second helpings and the total certainty that a meal will happen. No one is left to go hungry here.

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In this place, you will be noticed. Your bad day will be spotted and acknowledged. Help will be offered, even if all you need is a small smile in the corridor. Because this is the place where everybody knows your name. And yes, they are always glad you came. We are connected in this place. We remember you when you were little and we are so proud of how far you have come. You will be greeted with warmth and encouragement here. In this place, we look in your eyes and you can look in ours. We will see you and we will listen. In this place, we will help you when you are hurt. We will keep helping, even if the hurt is too big to be fixed. When even the magic of a wet paper towel can’t fix what hurts, we will keep helping.

In this place, you can trust that routines will happen. The sweet comfort of the timetable, predictable and dependable, is yours to enjoy. In this place, you don’t have to be scared about what will happen next, if you will be safe, if today is a good day or a bad day. You will always be welcome, just the way you are, because this place was built for you alone.

In this place, doors that were slammed shut and locked tight against you begin to creak open. Just a smidge at first. Just the hope of opening, really. But little by little, with confidence and practice and care and determination, each door opens a little more and provides a glimpse of the wonders on the other side. After a year of supporting you and helping you and holding your hand while you try every single possible key in the lock, we will stand by the open doorway, delighted by all you have achieved. We will stand to one side in our layers and our comfortable shoes and watch with pride as you step through the door we helped you open and into whatever comes next. We will notice that you walk with confidence, your spine straight and your head held high, and we will know that is thanks to your time in this place.

This place is an ark, a lifeboat, a safe room and a rocket ship. It is an oasis and a mountaintop, a comfortable pair of slippers, a crowded party and an empty, quiet corridor. This place is where things get better, needs are met, connections are made and amazing, resilient people are forged out of the ash and fire of childhood.

This place is your school, and I’m so glad that you are here.

Susan Ward is depute headteacher at Kingsland Primary School in Peebles, in the Scottish Borders. She tweets @susanward30