As a private schools tsar extols their virtue, one teacher tells how he transferred his son from a public prep school to a state primary
It seemed so perfect at first. Every parent at our son’s nursery was desperate to get their child into the exclusive prep school. On the open day the school was gleaming, brimming with opportunities for our child to learn foreign and classical languages, musical instruments and attain a really top-class academic education. Since the only good local primary school in our area appeared to be full, my wife and I decided to accept the offer of a place for our four-year-old son and delve deep into our pockets and pay £12,000 a year to give him the best education money could buy.
His first few years at the school appeared to go well. He learnt to read and write, enjoyed painting — he won an art prize. His friends were scattered all over the city and he was invited to birthday parties held at Premier League football grounds and million-pound homes. He would sing at religious services and was learning musical instruments.
But when he was 8 and in Year 4, we began to notice that things were going wrong. He didn’t seem to be enjoying his lessons, complaining that he felt tired and bored in a lot of them. Furthermore, it was clear that his work was suffering: his writing was very scruffy and brief. His teacher complained to us that he was not concentrating and that his handwriting was poor because he was not copying out diligently, his writing lacked detail because he took so long to settle down to the work.
He was also being bullied. A boy in his class was constantly calling him names, telling him that he was rubbish at everything and pushing his head into the bin whenever he got the chance. When I took this up with the school, it said that it would speak to the boy concerned. But the boy’s behaviour continued. It became clear that there was an atmosphere at the school that was reminiscent of the public school spirit of the 1950s: “Boys will be boys and we shouldn’t ruin their fun!” This meant that hard balls and bats weren’t banned from the small playground. As a consequence, my son and his friends rarely ventured outside, preferring to hang around the corridors.
He was suffering from the mountains of homework that was taking more than an hour a night, and frequently required two hours’ attention. To make matters worse, he didn’t seem to understand much of it. It was complex work, but unfortunately he didn’t seem to have a grasp of the basics. For example, he didn’t have a clue what odd and even numbers were, didn’t know his times tables, had scarcely an idea what division was, but was expected to add fractions and do long division.
When I questioned him about this, he told me that most of his lessons consisted of completing worksheets in silence. He was frightened to ask anything because he would seem stupid in front of the rest of the class and the teacher was often impatient with pupils who asked questions.
I began to complain, talking to his teacher, the deputy head, the pastoral head and the headmaster about my concerns. They were very attentive and listened to what I said, promising action, which indeed they attempted to take. However, it became clear to me that complaining wasn’t going to solve the situation because there was a more difficult problem at the root of things. The teachers at the school weren’t trained properly. They didn’t know how to motivate and engage children such as my son. They thought that lecturing eight-year-olds, dishing out worksheets, insisting that rote-learning of spellings and times tables was the way to educate our young.
I was also concerned that the coming years would be full of mock tests to prepare him for the entrance exams to the exclusive public schools.
While researching my book, Working The System, a guide to state schools, I learnt that pupils from middle-class backgrounds did just as well at inner-city comprehensives as they did at the so-called top private schools. In fact, researchers from the universities of Cambridge, Sunderland and West of England have found that middle-class pupils often thrive academically at inner-city schools because of the extra attention they receive from teachers keen to improve the school’s results.
We looked at our local primary schools again and saw clearly that the teachers had been properly trained to motivate and engage young children. What is more, contrary to the stereotype, much of the work at the inner-city primary we chose for Theo was of a higher standard than at the prep school — the girls at the school, in particular, seemed to be steaming ahead.
Because Theo was so unhappy, we decided to take the plunge and pull him out of the prep school in the middle of the year. For the first few weeks at the new school he was treated like a celebrity, gawped at by everyone, with parents offering me coffee and biscuits. That attention died away after a while but the positive atmosphere didn’t. For the first time ever, Theo was saying that he liked maths and science. He was doing real experiments in science, going on trips to places such as St Albans to see the Roman remains and theatres to experience concerts, joining football and basketball clubs to improve his ball skills, which needed brushing up after years of sitting indoors during break times.
At the end of the year, there were a number of parent-teacher consultations, far more than the ones at the private school. What is more, they weren’t infused by a general atmosphere of “you need to make sure your child shapes up”, but characterised by a sense that all of us — parent, teacher, child — were in this together, that we all needed to figure out the best ways forward. It was clear from the meetings that Theo was doing pretty well with his reading and was enjoying his work, but that he needed much more writing practice. I had been informed by the parents at his previous school that he would be far ahead of the rest of the children. But this wasn’t the case at all; I could see that many of the children in his class, having been encouraged and nurtured from early on, were more fluent and confident in their writing than he was. I met his teacher and we chatted about what Theo needed to do to improve academically. We all agreed that Theo would write a diary at home to improve his writing skills.
In other spheres Theo has flourished. The Government has made a concerted effort to engage children with music. This has meant that in our borough Theo is able to attend a Saturday music school where he learns clarinet and bassoon, as well as having percussion and singing lessons.
Above all, Theo is now part of our local community. He walks down the street and children and adults say hello to him. He plays with local children after school instead of doing hours of meaningless, pointless homework. He is much more confident and happier. He has his childhood back.
Common myths about state schools
Myth 1 State schools hate competition — and competitive sports
In every state school I’ve taught in there has been a healthy dose of competition, particularly where sports are concerned. The vast majority of schools play the competitive games that we all know and love: such as football, netball and rugby.
You’ll also find plenty of academic competition going on. All the best state schools report back regularly on the national curriculum levels and GCSE grades your child is attaining. In all of the schools that I’ve taught in I’ve noticed that children are forever comparing themselves with each other, wanting to better each other. Believe me, it’s a competitive atmosphere. At a good state school though, pupils should know what they are good at and what they need to improve.
Myth 2 You find better teachers in the private sector
As we have seen, this is patently untrue. Some of the best teaching you’ll find is actually going on in our inner cities. Well-trained, impassioned teachers are enthusing children in a way that very few teachers in the private sector do.
Myth 3 Behaviour is very poor in state schools
The best state schools are orderly, well-behaved places. Fights are infrequent and pupils are keen to learn. In a recent survey, Ofsted judged that behaviour was good or better in eight out of ten lessons. Usually bad behaviour occurred in classes where the teacher was temporary or in schools where there had been a high staff turnover. This said, it is likely that your child will come across pupils from disturbed homes who have emotional and behavioural issues. Talking this through with your child and explaining the reasons why children sometimes behave this way is very helpful.