I blame Enid Blyton.
As a child I devoured her books, becoming particularly enchanted by the
boarding school worlds she created in the Malory Towers and Naughtiest Girl
series. This combination of tomfoolery,
midnight feasts and loyal friendships seemed right up my street so obviously I
asked my parents if I could go to boarding school.
Tempted though I’m sure they were, they didn’t pack me off
straightaway but when I was doing my GCSEs they said that if I was serious
about the whole boarding school thing I could go away for my A levels. A necessary condition was imposed and
achieved when I earned a scholarship for half my fees so off I went at age 16 to
live in a middle-ranking school for my two years of sixth form.
My education up to that point had been entirely within the
state sector and all my ideas about private schools and the people who went to
them were a result of the stereotypes delivered through mainstream media. I expected plummy accents, sneering attitudes
and a great view of the underside of everyone’s chins as they looked down their
noses at me for being from a comprehensive school.
Rocking up on my first day with a nose stud and a massive
chip on my shoulder it quickly became clear that I was the one with the
attitude problem. As I recall I was one
of only a couple of new pupils who’d come from the state sector but as it
turned out, the only person who thought it remotely relevant was me; everyone
else was far more interested in killing time until the parents left so that
they could go and have a smoke behind the pavilion.
Going to boarding school for sixth form meant that I
experienced both worlds at an age where I kind of understood what I was looking
at. Obviously my experiences are based
on one comprehensive and one boarding school, I’m sure other people in other
places see different things, but here are some of my observations.
Private school is less tribal. It’s almost like it’s one big tribe, whereas
my comp was much more cliquey. All the
girls at sixth form wore their beautiful, swishy hair in the same way (a pony
tail not quite pulled through the band – they all looked to me like they’d just
got out of the shower and not sorted their hair out) and the boys all had
Tintin quiffs. Strange brands I’d never
seen before were everywhere and rugby shirts were definitely the order of the
day.
There was a new language to learn; rusticated, gated, prep,
san, exeat, master and the one that caused me the most bother – tab. It took me a while to realise that it meant
cigarette so for the first day or two I thought everyone had a massive LSD
problem. Oops. None of the teachers, sorry masters, were called
by their names either; nicknames abounded and learning which could be used to
their faces and which couldn’t was a perilous tightrope that all the new
students had to walk.
Was my education better there? Well, my A level results certainly do not
remotely reflect what I now know to be my abilities – but educational success is
not measured solely in terms of exam results. I learned a pretty big lesson about not prejudging
and living in close and constant proximity with others was a timely
tolerance-building exercise. Without
that school I would never have had the opportunity to sing evensong at St
Paul’s Cathedral and St George’s Chapel at Windsor Castle, I’d probably never
have gone to an opera and going from a school that put on a single production
each year to one that churned them out at rate of more than one a term provided
a wonderful outlet for my dramatic (aka showy-off) tendencies. Students arrived at the school from all over
the world and from a massive range of backgrounds – mixing with this huge range
of people, and their families, gave me a confidence that has stayed with me
into adulthood. (I am also able to
handle larger quantities of alcohol than my size and gender would suggest –
this is very definitely a legacy from my boarding school days.)
This post was going to be bit of a rant, fighting back at
those who lambast private school pupils as though they’ve been handed something
on a plate. I didn’t get great A level
results because I didn’t work hard enough; my parents paying half of my fees
didn’t guarantee anything. It turned
into a more affectionate reminiscence, which is telling in itself. It’s not the right avenue for everyone, but
for me the combination of educational experiences provided the best and
broadest foundation I could possibly get.
Toodle-pip!