RESULTS RAGE!
It’s that simmering fury you feel when smug mums gloat about their little darlings’ exam success — when yours flunked theirs. And, says Amanda, it’s even MORE painful when you spent £100,000 on their education ...
ARCHIE only got an A for philosophy, the silly chump, but we’re hoping he’ll still squeak into Oxford with three A stars. Fingers crossed! (cue tinkly laugh). How did Stanley do?’
My heart plummets. Is there anything worse than talking to other parents in the wake of Results Day?
All those pictures of beaming teenagers leaping skywards waving slips of paper. More triumphant teens sobbing with joy as they open their results live on breakfast television. There’s no escape. Even the Radio 2 Drivetime show (to which I tuned in for some light relief) was bursting with results euphoria. ‘ Massive shout out to Emily for achieving AA B from a very proud Mum, Dad and auntie Jean.’
Three cheers for Emily. And I’m thrilled for her Mum, Dad and auntie Jean. But what about those of us who are not jumping for joy?
My son, Stanley, got a D (in Classical Civilisation) and an E (in English Literature) in his A-Levels this year. Technically that’s two passes, but they start to feel a bit like failure when everyone else seems to have straight As and a red-carpet entry to a leading university.
What’s more, Stanley’s grades weren’t the end result of seven years spent in a failing comprehensive, but the outcome of a private school in a smart area of London.
The cost, then, of those D and E grades has been roughly £100,000 in school fees. I even had to dip into my pension fund to see him through the last year. Any regrets? No point.
I admit when he was much younger that I used to indulge in day-dreams about his glittering future. Oxbridge? Definitely. But then what?
Heart surgeon? Investment banker? Archbishop of Canterbury? Anything seemed possible.
Reality gradually set in over the years, though, as his interests veered away from academic subjects, and his A-Level results were not a total surprise to either of us.
As things stand, while his friends scatter to universities throughout the UK, Stanley will be exploring the world of minimum wage zero-hour contracts in London — for the short term, anyhow.
With today’s teenagers suffering an epidemic of depression and anxiety due to the intense pressure to succeed academically, I feared how Stanley might react to his results.
So far he has shown no outward sign of mental torment ( he is surprisingly cheerful), but there must be a sense of disappointment deep down that he hasn’t done better.
This isn’t helped by all the boastful posts on social media, a fresh wave of which were ignited with the GCSE results last week.
I’d like to request a little tact from the smug parents who don’t stop to think that other people’s children might not have achieved quite as highly as their own junior Einstein.
DOI SOUND bitter? I hope not, as I’m really not. I couldn’t be more delighted for all my friends’ children and my son’s classmates who got excellent grades. These are people I know well and care about and I take genuine pleasure in their success.
My complaint lies with all the virtual strangers who think it is socially acceptable to come up and interrogate me or Stanley about how he did. And yes, I’m talking about you, Mrs Nosy- Parker- at- No. 54, and you, woman-in-the-Post- Office whose name I barely know. You have zero interest in myself or my son, you just wanted an opportunity to show off about your own child’s success.
Whatever happened to British reticence? In the past people kept quiet about a string of A star grades for fear of upsetting those whose children had performed badly. Besides, nobody liked a braggart. Now it seems we have turned into a nation of show-offs with Results Day bringing out the worst in people. It has even been used to settle old scores.
My friend Sarah received an email after AS results from an old ‘frenemy’ from primary school days.
Their sons had gone to different secondary schools and hadn’t remained in touch. That didn’t stop her firing off an email to taunt my friend about their sons’ diverging paths in life.
‘Hi Sarah. It turns out Theo is a bit of a whizz at maths so we’re thinking about Cambridge. Have you got any advice about Oxbridge?’
‘I went cold,’ Sarah told me. ‘This woman would have heard, via the grapevine, that my son was threatening to drop out of Sixth Form. She knew we were at crisis point and yet she had to tell me that her son was an Oxbridge candidate.
‘She just wanted to rub my face in it. It was utterly vile. I still hide if I see her in the supermarket.’
Sarah, a mother of three, is the only one of my friends whose children have also struggled academically. We are now battle-hardened veterans of lacklustre GCSE, AS and A-Level results and have swapped many a tale of Results Day trauma.
‘One mother was frantic because her daughter got a C grade at AS even though all her other grades were As. She burst into tears and I had to comfort her even though she knew my son had done far worse than her daughter. It was horribly insensitive.’
But what upset Sarah most was that the woman would never have shown such ‘weakness’ in front of anyone she considered a serious rival.
‘What I hate more than anything,’ she says ‘is when people adopt this high-pitched cooing tone and say “Oh, he’s done really well! Gosh you must be so proud!” It’s incredibly patronising.’ The subtext is that they’d be devastated if their child got such low grades, but it’s the best that can be expected from yours.
We have both now learnt from bitter experience never to engage with Results Day hysteria. We don’t ask about other people’s grades and if asked how our children did, just reply: ‘We’re quite pleased, thanks.’ This is repeated with a chilly smile until people get the message.
Since when did exam results stop being a private matter?
When I took my A-Levels (decades ago) there was none of this modern fanfare. We just waited for the official envelope to plop through the letterbox at home. That was as exciting as it got and everyone, parents and teenagers alike, took things in their stride. Now, Results Days have
become a national event. And if, like me, you can’t join in the jubilation, you end up feeling like the person people cross the road to avoid.
But nobody has died. My son has under-achieved in his A Levels but it’s not the end of the world and I’m confident that he’ll make his way in life as most of us do.
Am I disappointed? A little. Could Stanley have done better? Probably, but I don’t need to tell him that.
SO,WHAT of the future? For now I think Stanley is just happy that his education is over. As am I. I’ve tried hovering, pushing and helicopter parenting, not to mention threats, bribes and downright pleading. I’m also looking forward to a bit of a break. Goodbye school days, hello cheap last-minute holidays.
No more shrieking at him to get up in the mornings. No more rows about revision/homework/any kind of work. No more parents’ evenings!
Stanley is his own man and, at 18, it is up to him what he makes of his life. Over to you now, darling.
The only thing I know is that he’ll be finding himself a job in September. Any job will do. The most important lesson he can learn right now is to turn up for work, on time, day after day, whether he feels like it or not.
Learning you don’t want to spend your life pulling pints or mixing concrete can also be informative. If he decides to apply for an apprenticeship, get vocational qualifications or even go to university in the future (once he’s decided on a career), then I’ll be on hand for help and advice.
For decades, university has been a rite of passage, it was for me. At university I learned to live on my own, make life-long friends, hold my liquor (sometimes) and do all the things that students do when they leave the watchful gaze of their fond parents.
But now, with the university ‘brand’ devalued by its very popularity and theth looming burden of a £50,000£5 debt, there are signssi that even the middle d classes are baulking at whatw was once an automatic m next step.
So has Stanley, a accidentally, made the ri right choice? This is what I hope: that he will take re responsibility for where he is now and make the most of it. As it is, while his friends are negotiating Freshers Week, S Stanley will be out in the big wide w world learning to be a man. Who kn knows, maybe he’ll even gain a head st start in the race of life.
So here’s my own personal shout o out to all those teenagers who sl slipped a grade, and all those who have missed out on their longed-for university course or chosen Sixth Form College. Here’s to all those whose best wasn’t quite good enough. I wish them every success in negotiating retakes and finding their path in life.And as for all those triumphantly boastful parents, here’s a little reminder about Results Day etiquette.
Don’t boast about your child’s brilliance to anyone outside of your close family.
Don’t badger anyone about their child’s grades, particularly if you don’t know them well.
Don’t say ‘Oh dear’ while cocking your head in a sympathetic manner
And definitely don’t say, ‘But what are you going to DO?’