Everyone thought Ant & Dec were scouting for their next TV set in Sunderland. Instead, they quietly built a primary school—fully funded with £2.4 million—for refugee children and undocumented families. But it’s the first person they hired as principal that left reporters speechless…👇📚✨
The School of Sanctuary
In the gritty, vibrant streets of Sunderland, where the River Wear meets the North Sea, Ant McPartlin and Declan Donnelly—better known as Ant & Dec—were local legends. At 49, the Geordie duo had conquered television with their infectious charm, cheeky banter, and knack for connecting with everyday people. In the spring of 2025, rumors swirled on X that they were scouting locations in Sunderland for a new TV project. Fans spotted them visiting empty lots, chatting with locals, and snapping photos. But the truth was far bigger than a show. Ant and Dec were quietly building a primary school for refugee children and undocumented families, fully funded with £2.4 million from their personal fortunes. And it was the person they chose as principal that left everyone stunned.
The idea began a year earlier, during a quiet moment on the set of Britain’s Got Talent. Ant, flipping through a stack of fan letters, found one from a Sunderland teacher named Amira Hassan. Amira, a 32-year-old refugee from Syria who’d arrived in the UK a decade earlier, wrote about her work with migrant children. Her letter wasn’t a plea for fame—it was a call for help. She described kids in her community—refugees from war-torn countries and undocumented families—struggling in overcrowded schools, facing language barriers, and feeling like outsiders. “They deserve a place to belong,” she wrote. “A school where they’re seen.” Ant passed the letter to Dec, and the two sat in silence, moved by her words.
They didn’t respond with a tweet or a public gesture. Instead, they contacted Amira privately, meeting her in a Sunderland café. Over tea, she shared her story: fleeing Damascus as a teenager, learning English in a refugee center, and earning a teaching degree against all odds. Her passion for giving kids a safe space lit a fire in Ant and Dec. They decided to act—not as celebrities, but as two lads from Newcastle who knew what it meant to fight for a better life.
For months, they worked in secret, funneling £2.4 million into a project they called “Sanctuary School.” They bought a disused lot in Sunderland’s east end, transforming it into a modern primary school with colorful classrooms, a library stocked with multilingual books, and a playground designed for accessibility. The school included trauma-informed counseling, language support, and free meals, tailored for children whose families faced uncertainty. They hired local contractors, ensuring the project lifted the community, and kept their names off the paperwork to avoid attention.
The grand opening was set for May 2025, timed to coincide with the new school term. Ant and Dec invited Amira, thinking she’d be a guest of honor. When she arrived, expecting a ribbon-cutting, they handed her a contract instead. “We want you to run this place,” Dec said, his grin wide. “You’re the heart of it.” Amira, overwhelmed, clutched the contract, tears in her eyes. A refugee who’d once felt invisible was now the principal of a school built for kids like her younger self. The announcement stunned reporters, who’d gathered expecting a TV stunt. “Ant & Dec didn’t just build a school,” one wrote. “They chose a refugee to lead it. That’s the story.”
The school opened its doors to 150 children, aged 5 to 11, from families fleeing conflict in Syria, Afghanistan, and beyond, as well as undocumented locals who’d slipped through the cracks. Amira set the tone: every child was greeted in their native language, and the curriculum blended art, music, and storytelling to build confidence. Parents, many wary of systems, found a community hub where they could learn English and access legal aid. Ant and Dec attended the opening quietly, no cameras in tow, helping kids paint murals and kicking a football in the playground.
The story broke when a parent posted on X, sharing a photo of Amira welcoming students, with Ant and Dec in the background. “This school is for our kids, built by Ant & Dec, led by a refugee,” the post read. It exploded, with #SanctuarySchool trending and comments like “They didn’t need to do this, but they did” and “Amira as principal? Pure class.” News outlets dug into the £2.4 million gift, praising the duo’s humility and Amira’s inspiring journey.
Ant and Dec stayed low-key. At a rare press event, Ant shrugged off the hype. “Amira’s the real star,” he said. “We just helped her vision come to life.” Dec added, “These kids deserve a shot. That’s it.” But the impact was undeniable. By autumn 2025, Sanctuary School had a waiting list, and its model inspired similar projects in Newcastle and Manchester. Amira, now a local hero, mentored teachers and spoke at education conferences, her voice carrying the weight of her past.
The children thrived. A 9-year-old named Leyla, who’d fled Kabul, painted a mural of a sunrise, her first artwork since arriving in the UK. A boy named Carlos, whose family faced deportation, found his voice in music class, singing in Spanish. Parents formed a support network, and local businesses donated supplies, inspired by Ant and Dec’s example. The duo’s foundation pledged ongoing funding, raising £500,000 in donations to expand the school’s programs.
Amira wrote to Ant and Dec, her letter simple: “You gave these children a home. You gave me one, too.” They kept it in their office, next to a photo of the school’s first day. They visited when they could, playing games with the kids, always deferring to Amira’s leadership. To them, it wasn’t about fame—it was about a letter, a dream, and a woman who proved hope could rise from hardship.
In Sunderland, Sanctuary School stood as a beacon. And as Ant and Dec returned to their TV world, they carried Amira’s words and the laughter of 150 children, a reminder that the greatest acts are the ones done for others.
