Toby Young
Already a subscriber? Log in
Needless to say, I have now totally come round to state education and tell myself that I wouldn’t send my children to private school even if I could afford it. For one thing, it seems a colossal waste of money. The fees at Norland Place start at £3,004 per term in reception, rising to £3,792 in year four. That’s £11,376 per year. And for what? Let’s not pretend it is about education. What you are buying is bragging rights at dinner parties. The reason rich people in London move heaven and earth to get their children into exclusive private schools is because their child’s school has become a key status-indicator, along with driving a Chelsea tractor and having a summer house in Cornwall.
Such competitiveness is inevitably passed on to the children and the ‘education’ they receive at these schools consists of a crash course in how to measure the status of each other’s parents according to which ski resort they take their children to during the Christmas holidays and whether they fly out their nannies in Business Class or Economy.
You think I’m exaggerating? A friend of mine recently told me that his daughter, who is a pupil at a London day school, asked him if she could have her own private account at the taxi firm Addison Lee. Apparently, all her friends have one and she is worried that they will think she’s ‘poor’. She pointed out that it would actually be to his benefit, too. Instead of summoning him to come and pick her up from parties, she can simply call Addison Lee on her BlackBerry and order a cab.
Frankly, even if I had the money to compete at this level — and I can’t afford my own Addison Lee account — I would prefer that my children weren’t exposed to these values.
So far, I’ve been absolutely delighted by the education Sasha has received at the local primary. She has been there less than six months and has already been taught to read and write. She’s taking a French class as well as a drama class and is thinking of learning Spanish next term. Not bad for a four-year-old and surely no less than she would be doing in reception at a private school.
Perhaps more importantly, her social circle is far wider than it would be if she was at somewhere like Norland Place. She has black friends, Muslim friends, friends who live on council estates, as well as friends who live in semi-detached Victorian houses in Shepherd’s Bush. Admittedly, she doesn’t know anyone whose parents own private jets, but I think that is a privation she can live with. The reaction of my well-to-do friends when I tell them my daughter is at a state school hasn’t been as negative as I was expecting. On the contrary, they seem weirdly impressed, as if I was making a choice, rather than being forced to do it out of necessity. In their eyes, I am taking the bold step to opt out of the educational rat-race, something many of them wish they could do, but don’t have the courage to.
I hope they don’t follow my example. In about 13 years’ time, when my children start applying to Oxford and Cambridge, they will have the politically correct advantage of not having been educated privately — and the fewer competitors they have in the state sector the better. There was nothing my father enjoyed more than bumping into old friends who had lavished hundreds of thousands of pounds on their children’s education, only to see them end up failing to get into Manchester Polytechnic. My father would let slip that I had managed to get into Oxford in spite of the fact that he hadn’t spent a penny on my education. It is a pleasure I very much hope to share in the years to come.
Also in Society
Also by Toby Young
Latest
Comments
Join the debate for just $5 for 3 months
Be part of the conversation with other Spectator readers by getting your first three months for $5.
UNLOCK ACCESS Just $5 for 3 monthsAlready a subscriber? Log in