Putting the A into A Levels
FOR the past few weeks it’s been a stress-fest for a lot of our youngsters and their families - exam results time!
As August arrives they’re more nervous and insecure than a Trump White House advisor, with the future as uncertain as a Toon transfer target.. until the big day arrives.
Then the papers are suddenly filled with stock images of shiny, ecstatic, successful students in a classic ‘leaping in the air’ pose, as they celebrate having more ‘A’s than a scouser called Aaron trying to renew his AA membership.
It is uplifting to see any kids doing well but this isn’t the reality as I, and a lot of folk, actually remember it.
It probably wouldn’t be ‘feel good’ enough for the media to tell of pupils like my mate ‘Dave’ who struggled against circumstances to scrape a few C or D grades.
For lads like him to get such relatively lowly grades was almost as big an achievement as getting into Oxbridge. This wasn’t because of poverty, personal tragedy or other such obstacles that might serve to blight his life chances.
No. Dave suffered from the cruel twist of fate that saw the demands of him undertaking serious academic study at the exact same time he discovered his libido, a taste for McEwan’s Best Scotch, The Tuxedo Princess, lie-ins ‘til noon and the Le Breve clothes shop.
Something had to give. I felt his pain; having recently moved house, I was sorting through the ‘destined for the loft’ stuff and found a tattered box (from Laws stores...) containing my old school books and reports.
My head of sixth form’s feedback still had the power to chill me nearly 35 years after the event.
“Michael seems to have ‘retired’ from the course this term...even serious knuckling down may prove too late.”
He had no idea of the pressures of being the bass player in a heavy rock band that were so bad we changed our name after each gig.
Nevertheless, I still feel guilt in my getting my A Level history teacher to help me look round his room for a fictional essay we both knew I hadn’t handed in - indeed hadn’t even done!
Furthermore, at least I was honest to my peers.
Before every mock A Level I truthfully informed my class mates that I’d done virtually ‘nowt.’
Unfortunately, this unvarnished honesty prompted the year group egg-heed to put on the most unconvincing and patronising display of empathy for the less-fortunate since uber-toff David Cameron professed to being merely ‘middle class.’ Givowwer! Nobody was fooled! We all knew she’d been working harder than Donald Trump’s hairspray since the start of the course.
Hells bells - she never went out; we’d have seen more of her if she’d been in witnesses protection.
At least be honest and tell us you were readier than a 12 month pregnancy for this exam malarkey. Mind you - she did get to appear on the front page of our local free paper...
Mike will be performing at Grinning Idiot comedy - St Dominic’s club in Byker, Newcastle, on Saturday, September 2.