Jrh Mcewen

Boys’ own

J.R.H. McEwen on the value of educating the sexes separately

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Visiting the school, I can see how passionately Mr and Mrs Goddard (she oversees the pastoral side of the school) and their staff believe in the particular benefits of single-sex education. The chief benefit is freedom: freedom, in particular, from the self-consciousness that girls would induce. While much of this unease would be culturally determined, it seems a fact that girls mature quicker and boys, therefore, at this age, squirm in their presence and struggle to be what they are not yet, as they seek to suppress their bouncing urges.

Aysgarth speaks of itself as a place ‘where boys can be boys’ and the fantastic range of activities available to pupils, the superb sporting record, the officially sanctioned high-jinks — a water slide on hot days, an annual pillow fight, the moonlit escaped-prisoner game — all suggest that this is a fulfilled boast. Perhaps a school ‘where girls can be girls’ could be run on similar lines — girls too like climbing rocks, fishing, sailing, and larks in general — but it is certain that a co-educational school would not run a knitting group for older boys (Aysgarth does) and unlikely that in a co-educational school it would be ‘cool’ for boys to sing in the choir.

This coolness doubtless derives in part from a music teacher who is, apparently, a genius, and from the school’s lightly-worn, deeply-felt Christian ethos, and its fabulous chapel, but the point bears repeating: the freedom that boys feel at an all-boys school is not least the freedom to do what girls ‘normally’ or ‘traditionally’ do. The equivalent is said of girls’ schools, that girls at them feel freer to study advanced mathematics and so on, and there does seem to be here an answer to one argument for co-education, that it prevents gender stereotypes taking root. When no girls are present, are gender stereotypes likewise absent?

Probably not, but, then again, some stereotypes persist because they contain truth. Mrs Goddard is delighted by the boys’ straightforwardness and boyish humour and by their uncomplicated approach to friendship. She remembers girls at this age being so much trickier, conspiratorial, sophisticated in their intimacies. The presence of girls at Aysgarth would change the place entirely and almost certainly make it less jolly.

There are of course unjolly moments at the school and everyone gets homesick sometimes. This was acknowledged by all, teachers as well as pupils — David and Ralph who gave a knowledgeable tour, George and Tom who chatted over a toothsome lunch, and William, Chris, Ned and Finn who discussed dormitory matters in the space between lunch and cricket. Charm was considerable, thoughtfulness most evident, enthusiasm warm and genuine; these lads were enjoying themselves but able to admit to their own times of homesickness when the others rally round and help you through; it never lasts for long.

The tenderness and honesty with which this subject was discussed were impressive; the hoped-for ‘family atmosphere’ is real; and it is modern. The argument against single-sex schools might itself be old-fashioned, based on outdated assumptions regarding, in particular, repressed emotion. Aysgarth continues to make every sense in the year 2011.

Girls, though, don’t the boys miss girls? George thinks for a moment: ‘No,’ he says, shaking his head, smiling, ‘no’. At the age of 12, what’s there to miss?

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