Sobbing mums, tearful teachers . . . are today’s schools that tough?

Feeling brainy? Try this question from an 11-plus exam paper in the mid-Fifties: The road from a town ‘A’ to another town ‘B’ is uphill for the first two miles, level for the next three miles, and downhill for the last two miles. if i can walk at the rate of four miles an hour on the level, five miles an hour downhill and three miles an hour uphill, how long shall i take to go from A to B?

got that? Frankly, you’re doing well if you can understand the question, never mind work out the answer. The test involved dozens of posers like this, as well as convoluted word puzzles and mathematics to make your head spin.

But apparently it was a doddle, compared with the SATs or statutory assessments faced by today’s children — according to Class Of Mum And Dad (C4), a reality TV show sending parents back to primary school. The modern exam was so gruelling that one mother ran sobbing from the room to hide in the toilets, and had to be comforted by kindly Mrs Mead, the teacher.

it was all a bit overwhelming. ‘This is part of the journey for us,’ said Mrs Mead in a choked voice, before turning away from the camera in tears.

There’s proof, if you like, of how much tougher life is for today’s children. Yes, the 11-plus was challenging, but it didn’t reduce the teaching staff to blubbering wrecks.

The awkward thing is, if you look at a current SATs test for 11-yearolds, it’s largely simple arithmetic and basic grammar. There’s much less general knowledge and reading comprehension than the old exam.

The voice-over wants us to believe that lessons are more demanding and standards are higher than for previous generations.

The parents are going to ‘find out the hard way what primary school is really like today’.

How the documentary will fill six episodes is not clear, since it was already running out of material in the first hour — padded with children’s interviews, which are cute in small doses but nauseating when overdone.

Blackrod Primary in lancashire certainly seems an exemplary place. The children look happy, and it’s a far cry from the Portakabins and pot-holed playgrounds of the Seventies. Just don’t tell me it was easier in the past.

To settle the issue, we need Davina McCall’s time machine, which sends people out of the studio by one door and instantly welcomes them back by another, 12 months older, on This Time Next Year (iTV).

if all has gone well in the intervening year, the guests will have achieved their dearest ambitions.

For this to work, we need a wide assortment of dreams. it’s no good if everyone who appears on the show just wants to lose weight or pass their driving test.

in the previous series, Davina experimented with disappointment. We met people who sadly failed to hit their goals: they kept scoffing bags of chips or stalling at roundabouts.

But that’s not entertaining. Viewers want to see uplifting stories, which means we need triumphant successes.

This time, we met a couple desperate for a baby, who had twins a year later, and a deaf toddler whose electronic implant enabled her to hear for the first time.

This show sometimes feels like a conveyor belt for schmaltz, but it’s moving in spite of itself.

* The answer to that 11-plus question is one hour, 49 minutes . . . i think. Detention and a clout round the earhole if i got it wrong.