Until a few days ago, I hadn’t considered that life in a comprehensive state would be anything other than a broader version of what I’m used to at my private school.
However, now, as I look at the prospect of larger classes, minimal athletic facilities, and the possible threat of violence against me from other students, I am filled with anxiety.
When Mum and Dad first told me a few months ago that because of Dad’s job as a financier, we would be moving from the Peak District to Kent, they warned me that – although they have spent the last decade carefully saving and making sacrifices to give me the best education possible; With tuition fees rising and competition for school places, they may not be able to guarantee me a place at another private school.
You could be sitting next to students who don’t care if they do well, and in the worst case scenario, they could even be carrying a knife or drugs. Photo posed by models.
His parents explained that, with the likelihood of a newly elected Labor government imposing VAT on school fees, they cannot afford to risk enrolling him in another private school. Photo posed by models.
At that point I thought, ‘Well, I’m going to transfer to a nice high school in a nice area.’
Until now, my brother and I (he is 16 and I am 14) have always attended a private school. I’m told the annual fees amount to over £30,000 a year for the two of us, and as a family we have had to do without things like holidays abroad or a big house to manage this.
But this week, when they sat me down again before the move, my parents explained to me that, given the likelihood of a newly elected Labor government imposing VAT on school fees, they cannot afford to risk enrolling me in another private school .
To make matters worse, I was warned that the best public schools are so oversubscribed and so hotly contested that I may not end up in a school environment with kids who enjoy school and want to work hard to pass their exams like I do.
Mom, who works in marketing, explained some of the harsh realities of the state system, based on the experiences of her friends’ children, who currently attend public schools, and these are in “good” areas.
That’s when I started to panic. If I don’t get into a primary school in Kent (I’ll have to take an entrance test at each one I apply for), I’ll most likely end up in one of the few state secondary schools with places available. probably in a “rougher” area than I’m used to and maybe even a train ride away.
I’m starting to realize that I might be sitting next to students who don’t care about getting good grades, who sneer when I raise my hand to ask or answer questions, and in the worst case scenario, who may even carry a knife or drugs. with their school jackets. (I Googled this the other day and statistically, school violence is more likely to occur in a state setting than in a private setting, according to a 2020 study by York University.)
The private system is all I’ve ever known. At three years old, I started at a private nursery before moving to reception at a local prep school when I was five, followed by private secondary school in Derbyshire, where I have been since I was 11.
My parents wanted me to stay there until I finished high school. Class sizes are limited to 24 students, although in some lessons, such as art, there are only 12 children.
There are around 75 pupils in my year 10 and 600 aged 11-18 across the school. It is difficult to imagine what it will be like to attend a school with up to 2,000 students and 35 children per class. Mom and dad have prepared me so that I can stand out as the “posh boy”, although I don’t consider myself posh at all.
Knife crimes, fights, harassment and intimidation are more common in public schools. They could be gangs, not just individuals, who are more cunning and potentially more violent than the children I have known.
They might consider me a target for theft, because they will consider me “able to afford it.”
As Mom says, everyone loves the downfall of someone who considers themselves financially well off. It is a perception that irritates me and is not true. Of course, there are families with children at my private school for whom the proposal to add VAT will make no difference. But there are many more students whose parents, like mine, make enormous sacrifices for their children to attend a private education.
We haven’t gone on vacation abroad for years because the “excess” money is swallowed up by mine and my brother’s school fees.
In September he will go to a mainstream college to do a BTEC in theater studies. Had he been able to continue into sixth form at a private school, fees would have increased by several thousand pounds a year, even without the 20 per cent added VAT.
Our last holiday was a week on the North Yorkshire coast paid for by my grandmother. We are grateful for a vacation and know that many cannot afford it. My parents don’t drive new cars and are afraid that any problem in the house, like the boiler, will mean an expensive repair.
Having been quite relaxed at the prospect of switching from private to public education, my mind is now full of ‘what ifs’. What if I feel embarrassed to the point of submission and stop asking questions in class? What if teachers don’t have time to talk to me one on one?
Will my private school friends look down on me for going to public school? How will my aspirations to be an investment banker be perceived? Will other teens pressure me to try drugs or vape in order to be accepted?
Worst of all, will people really dislike me just because I come from a private school, making me a target for verbal or physical attacks? I’d like to think I’ll keep my head down if I end up at a school like that. But then I worry if that will be possible with thousands of students.
Thanks to the small number of students at my current school, any skirmishes are quickly resolved thanks to the constant presence of teachers, prefects, and other students who intervene voluntarily.
I don’t want this to be misinterpreted as saying that everyone in public schools is a bully or not interested in education, because that is far from true.
There are many kids who thrive in public school, including my six cousins, half of whom are already in college, while the rest will go in September.
However, that hasn’t stopped them from commenting on how lucky I am to be in a private school. I think most of all they envy the incredible sporting facilities, which include rugby and cricket pitches, tennis courts and a climbing centre.
We play weekly sports matches against other schools and there are options to do more drama and arts outside the curriculum, as well as lunchtime clubs including bouldering at Peaks, laser cutting, 3D engraving and printing, golf, Pilates and coaching with weights.
Meanwhile, recent school sports tours have included playing cricket in the United Arab Emirates, soccer in Spain, hockey in the Netherlands and rugby in Canada.
Pupils sit on committees to help create policies for the school on issues such as diversity and the environment, and there are music, Mandarin and debating societies; some students are even invited to debate in the European Youth Parliament. All students must subscribe to at least three extracurricular clubs.
I know I’m not the only one who has to move to a public school, but that hasn’t stopped me from having sleepless nights because of it.
The proposal to add VAT to school fees would affect many children like me, who are extremely happy, settled and well supported in private education, leaving them facing the worries of an uncertain educational future.
The added cost will potentially hurt the wrong people: families who make great sacrifices to pay for private school.
I can’t deny that I would be much happier if I could stay in private education until I finished my A-levels. As we wait for my fate to be decided, I am grateful to have gained confidence from my decade in private education, a trait that might work against me in a public school, but which I hope will also allow me to cope. in the face of any adversity.
As told to Sadie Nicholas