First and Last
"But she's so young," I said to the lovely Head Teacher, Mrs Cawsey. "She'll only be four and a month at the beginning of September. Surely she's too young to come to school full-time?"
"You wouldn't be saying that if she were your fourth child," said Mrs Cawsey. "You'd know she'll be fine and you'd be grateful for some time to yourself."
"I'm still not sure - - "
"Let me introduce you to Mrs Malir, the reception class teacher. Then you can make up your mind."
Mrs Malir was delightful. Emily started school.
That conversation seems very recent to me. But tomorrow is Emily's last ever day at school before she leaves to revise for her A-levels.
A lot of primary school she quite enjoyed. A lot of secondary school she has really, really hated, with complete justification. She's the kind of academic girl who would have thrived in the school as it was when I was there - a 400-pupil grammar school.
I know that the old eleven-plus system wasn't ideal either - and I know that frequently grammar school pupils thrived at the expense of the secondary modern pupils. At the age of eleven children were sorted into Society's Successes, who went to grammar school, and The Rest, who didn't.
In her time at this huge comprehensive school, Emily has had some excellent teaching, and some truly inspiring teaching (especial thanks to the Head of History). And some superb extra-curricular activities. And some terrible teaching. And a whole term without a German teacher. And most of a year without a proper Science teacher. And endless, endless hassle from large groups of anonymous teenagers. And this is at one of the best comprehensives in the city.
Grateful thanks to all those who have worked hard to help Emily and all the students. Sucks boo to the one-size-fits-all system of this country's education.
Of course, there isn't an easy answer, but I know that smaller schools, and smaller classes, is part of it. (If large classes are a Good Thing, why aren't there classes of thirty-five at Eton? Emily is one of the school's top achievers, she's had superb results academically - - and yet it's so sad that I feel we've let her down by sending her there, because in many ways she's had such a crap time. Hurrah for Gareth and all her friends - both in school and out of it - and everyone else who's helped her through it.
She'll miss her schoolfriends, but she won't be sorry to leave. I remember my last day at school - what an anti-climax it seemed. Schooldays seem to go on and on and on - all those Friday afternoons of double maths and all those breaktimes chatting with your friends - and then they stop, suddenly and forever.
And, actually, you can keep in touch with your friends, and she will. I have: - one of my closest friends at school is one of my closest friends now.
But they won't be the happiest days of her life, oh no. Those are, I am sure, to come.
"You wouldn't be saying that if she were your fourth child," said Mrs Cawsey. "You'd know she'll be fine and you'd be grateful for some time to yourself."
"I'm still not sure - - "
"Let me introduce you to Mrs Malir, the reception class teacher. Then you can make up your mind."
Mrs Malir was delightful. Emily started school.
That conversation seems very recent to me. But tomorrow is Emily's last ever day at school before she leaves to revise for her A-levels.
A lot of primary school she quite enjoyed. A lot of secondary school she has really, really hated, with complete justification. She's the kind of academic girl who would have thrived in the school as it was when I was there - a 400-pupil grammar school.
I know that the old eleven-plus system wasn't ideal either - and I know that frequently grammar school pupils thrived at the expense of the secondary modern pupils. At the age of eleven children were sorted into Society's Successes, who went to grammar school, and The Rest, who didn't.
In her time at this huge comprehensive school, Emily has had some excellent teaching, and some truly inspiring teaching (especial thanks to the Head of History). And some superb extra-curricular activities. And some terrible teaching. And a whole term without a German teacher. And most of a year without a proper Science teacher. And endless, endless hassle from large groups of anonymous teenagers. And this is at one of the best comprehensives in the city.
Grateful thanks to all those who have worked hard to help Emily and all the students. Sucks boo to the one-size-fits-all system of this country's education.
Of course, there isn't an easy answer, but I know that smaller schools, and smaller classes, is part of it. (If large classes are a Good Thing, why aren't there classes of thirty-five at Eton? Emily is one of the school's top achievers, she's had superb results academically - - and yet it's so sad that I feel we've let her down by sending her there, because in many ways she's had such a crap time. Hurrah for Gareth and all her friends - both in school and out of it - and everyone else who's helped her through it.
She'll miss her schoolfriends, but she won't be sorry to leave. I remember my last day at school - what an anti-climax it seemed. Schooldays seem to go on and on and on - all those Friday afternoons of double maths and all those breaktimes chatting with your friends - and then they stop, suddenly and forever.
And, actually, you can keep in touch with your friends, and she will. I have: - one of my closest friends at school is one of my closest friends now.
But they won't be the happiest days of her life, oh no. Those are, I am sure, to come.
posted by Daphne at 12:15 am
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