A complete failure
IT WILL come as no surprise to my reader that I failed my 11-plus exam (less of that noisy agreement at the back there!). I ended up at Otley Secondary Modern School, not the esteemed Prince Henry’s Grammar, which to the modern comprehensive school mind put me firmly “on the scrapheap” of life. Far from it, I received a well-balanced education, across the spectrum of skills, both academic and technical, which even allowed me to take my GCE O-levels in the secondary modern fifth form, staying on until I was 16.
From there, I obtained a job in the sales office of a local stationery manufacturer, attending Park Lane Technical College and Leeds Polytechnic on day-release and for evening classes, obtaining qualifications to HNC level in 13 business/exportrelated subjects.
My 11-plus failure was far from the “end of the world” scenario modern educationalists claim it was. Education in my day had many different avenues of opportunity, tailored to meet the needs of naturally different pupils: some academically gifted, by way of grammar school, university and degrees; others more technically minded, by way of secondary modern, technical college and apprenticeships. It was as diverse a system as its pupils’ differing natural gifts were.
It did not treat us all as the same, because people thankfully are not, and never will be. That is why so-called “comprehensive” education, which makes all pupils believe they have a God-given right to attend university, is failing them (and society) massively.
No wonder, then, that a recent survey of under-30-year-old adults found almost total ignorance of Britain’s history, apart from a widespread agreement that it is something to be ashamed of. All a million miles from the way history was taught in my secondary school. My generation know where we are going, because we were proudly taught where we came from (for good or ill). We also know we cannot all be professors (or indeed plumbers, for that matter — society needs both).
We cannot say the same of those young adults recently surveyed. Half believed Winston Churchill was PM in the First World War and one in 10 thought Margaret Thatcher was. One in five believed that in 1914-18 Britain fought France, not Germany. Less than half knew that war was prompted by the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand, with 6 per cent even believing the killing of JFK caused it! If that’s the best they can do with relatively recent history, God knows what they think happened between 1066 and 1914.
I recently watched a film on YouTube made by my secondary school about the class of 1964. It was an eye-opening reminder of how things were. Pupils studied algebra, did experiments in the science lab, read Shakespeare, Thomas Hardy and the Brontës. They studied domestic science, woodwork and metalwork, using cookers, hot irons, Bunsen burners, lathes and forges, most of which would be denied them nowadays on health and safety grounds and out of fear of parental legal action.
We even had a sports day which (shock, horror) involved winners and losers! If you won you were rewarded; if you lost, you were told you would do better next time. Nowadays everyone gets a medal just for taking part! Hardly a preparation for the ups and downs of life, now, is it? We were encouraged to win and lose with good grace and try harder if we lost. Now nobody can lose — EVER. That’s why they don’t know how to win. That’s why they don’t appreciate how our great country won throughout its history. They are taught to despise it. No wonder they all think life owes them, not the other way round.
As a leading public school head recently claimed (and has been roundly condemned for), today’s youngsters are “overly mollycoddled” and have “an underlying sense of entitlement”. He is right. The truth is harsh. So can life be. Education should prepare you for that reality. Nowadays it doesn’t.
“Comprehensive” education is anything but, being free from the genuine diversity of educational choice that was provided for my generation. Shoving everyone into the same comprehensive pot is proving a disaster. We are NOT all the same. We all have worth, but we are all very different.