HUNGERFORD, England -- Sara Smith of Bermuda crossed %% the Atlantic to attend a two-year college where the tuition bill tops $30,000, the school day often runs 20 hours, and the course work includes instruction in changing a dirty diaper. %%
%% "I was dying to be here," she said. "When I was 12, I knew I wanted to be an English nanny."
At Norland College, educators create nannies for the rich, the famous, the royal and the dual-income family in search of the best child care that money can buy.
Young women dressed in light-brown dresses with starched collars come to the Georgian mansion on a wind-swept hillside about 60 miles west of London to follow a century of tradition and teaching. There are babies to feed, toddlers to teach. There are lectures to hear and exams to conquer.
But the students who survive a nine-month probationary posting can graduate to a job with a salary of $500 a week, plus perks including room and board, a car, and enough travel to fill the pages of a passport.
"People who don't know this place think you're coming here to be a baby sitter, or that you're just learning to change diapers," Miss Smith said. "That's not true. It's hard. If someone came here just to say they're a nanny, then they're here for the wrong reasons."
In the Victorian era, nannies were the low-paid authoritarians ruling the lives of upper-class children from the children's birth until their charges reached age 16. But Emily Ward, who founded Norland in 1892, helped liberate the nanny from strictness.
Ward adhered to the philosophy of educational theoretician Friedrich Froebel, who likened the development of children to plant growth. All that was needed, he maintained, was a teacher who behaved as would a gardener, by offering an environment in which a child could blossom.
Ward combined this philosophy with a whiff of snobbery. Instead of promoting servants from the lower classes to the nurseries of the wealthy, she saw a niche in which "gentlewomen" would be trained for the job. Thus was born the modern English nanny and the school to train her.
"Emily Ward saw the supply and created the demand for qualified and educated nannies," said Penelope Stokes, author of Norland's authorized history. "She had an entree into the drawing rooms of London. On the old entrance forms, the girls used to have to put their father's occupation. Quite a few said 'gentleman,' which means they lived off a family fortune."
Few nannies now come from great wealth. Fewer still are English. They now are from Australia, New Zealand, Ireland or Eastern Europe. And breaking into the profession are a small number of men.
A class imperative
Nannies are still a force to be reckoned with in London. It isn't just fashionable to employ a nanny; for families of a certain class, it is almost an imperative.
On any day with even a hint of sunshine, the parks of the city teem with children and adults -- with nannies outnumbering parents. There is an informal organization of teas, play groups and story hours, organized for and by nannies and their charges.
No wonder then that nannies became a source of boundless discussion last month when the BBC presented a four-part drama, "Tears Before Bedtime." In this fictionalized world, a "nanny Mafia" ruled the lives of dual-income families. But the nannies in training at Norland were not amused.
"That show got everything wrong," Miss Smith said. "They had nannies prying through their employers' belongings, nannies discussing their employers' lives."
But a Norland nanny is taught two ironclad rules:
Never strike a child.
And never, absolutely never, reveal a family's affairs -- or partake in them.
Every Norland student is a high school graduate. Those who can't afford the $30,000 tuition may work a year at Norland and then study for 50 percent less.
"Everyone used to think that Norland nannies were very, very wealthy and that this is like some sort of finishing school," said Jemima Townley, a student whose mother and sister are Norland graduates. "Even I thought that all the other students would have an allowance or car here, and I wouldn't. But that's not the way it is."
Louise Davis is the principal. In 15 years at the college, the largest changes have been not among the students but among the employers: Instead of a servant, she says, families now want a nanny as a partner.
Altering family dynamics
That partnership can, of course, lead to tension in any household. The introduction of a nanny alters family dynamics, from the loss of privacy to a loss of control over the upbringing of a child.
Virginia Rylatt, a partner in a London law firm, spends 2 1/2 hours each morning and a half-hour each evening with her two sons. During the remainder of the weekday, she leaves them in the care of a nanny. The family spends weekends at a country home, where a set of part-time nannies is on call.
"I am in control of the children," Mrs. Rylatt said. "There are policy discussions. You can't have one sort of behavior expected by the adults on the weekend and another sort of behavior expected by the nanny midweek."
Mrs. Rylatt said employing a nanny gives her confidence in raising her children.
They've 'seen it all'
"The nannies have seen it all many times over," she said. "They know the next stage. They know where the child ought to be.
"They will be able to raise the child in a more professional way."
But employing a child care professional can take a substantial chunk of a family's budget. Ask Mrs. Davis, the Norland principal and a mother of four.
She hired Norland nannies for 10 years. Now, she relies on an au pair, a child-minder who works limited hours and earns far less than a nanny.
"When I had one child, affording a Norland nanny on two incomes was fine," she said. "But with more than one child in school, affording a Norland nanny is impossible."
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