Heard on Radio4 (Boadcasting House) 2 Mar 08 by mj: Tomorrow is A Day. Admissions Day; the long-awaited morning when half a million fretful parents will learn whether their child has got into the secondary school of their choice. For months parents have being saying things ‘We’re hoping he’ll get into this marvellous school just outside Calais. It’ll mean Timmy leaving the house 4.30 every morning to catch the Eurostar, but I think it’s worth it don’t you…’
What is it that so convinces anxious parents that their local school is much worse than one miles away from where they live? Well fundamentally it’s that old problem of class sizes in education; the working class is still much too big. In the old days it was all much simpler and children were divided up by the eleven plus; a fairly crude test designed to establish whether a child was middle or working class. The questions themselves rather gave this away; Question one; What is a motor-car? Is it a) a smart vehicle for driving Daddy to his job at the bank, or b) That rusty thing stacked up on bricks outside your house. Question two; What is a pony? Is it a) That lovely little horsey at the bottom of your garden. Or b) Twenty five nicker and a lot less than a monkey.
These days the more ambitious state schools adjust their curriculum to attract more middle class families. Woodwork lessons now involve teaching children how to hovver nervously behind a Polish carpenter saying ‘we tried to assemble it ourselves, but found the instructions a bit confusing…’ The cycling proficiency test now simply requires fifteen minutes sitting on an exercise bike watching Richard and Judy.
But whisper it not, the best school isn’t necessarily the one with the most middle class kids in it. Their intake might push up the average academic results, but it doesn’t mean that your children will automatically get a better education there. It’s quite likely that the best school for your child is one very near where you live. There’s plenty of time for hours of commuting when they’ve grown up, so next year why not just refuse to take part in that stampede for the hallowed selective school two train journeys away, spare your kids the stress of all those tests and the interviews and years of leaving the house at dawn. Otherwise I can’t help feeling that in a few decades time, the next generation will decide to take their revenge on us. ‘Granddad, we’re going to put you in an Old People’s Home. So you’ve got to taken six different entrance exams, have private coaching for the admissions interviews and demonstrate an aptitude for the specialism. OK?’ John O’Farrell