Until a few days ago, I hadn’t considered that life in a state comprehensive would be anything other than a bigger version of what I’m used to at my private school.
Yet now, looking down the barrel of larger class sizes, minimal sporting facilities and the possible threat of violence against me from other pupils, I’m filled with anxiety.
When Mum and Dad first told me a few months ago that due to Dad’s financier job, we were moving from the Peak District to Kent, they had warned me that —although they have spent the last decade carefully saving and making sacrifices in order to give me the best possible education they could — with ever-rising fees and the competition for school places, they might not be able to guarantee me a place at another private school.
He could be sitting next to pupils who don’t care about doing well and — worst case scenario — may even carry a knife or drugs. Picture posed by models
His parents explained that, with the likelihood of a newly elected Labour government imposing VAT on school fees, they cannot afford to risk enrolling him in another private school. Picture posed by models
At the time, I thought: ‘Oh well, I’ll just transfer to a nice secondary school in a nice area.’
Until now, me and my brother — he’s 16, I’m 14 — have always attended private school. I’m told the annual fees amount to more than £30,000 a year for both of us, and as a family we’ve had to do without things like foreign holidays or a large home in order to manage this.
But this week, as they sat me down again ahead of the move, my parents explained that with the likelihood of a newly elected Labour government imposing VAT on school fees, they cannot afford to risk enrolling me in another private school.
To make matters worse, they warned me that the best state schools are so oversubscribed and places so fiercely contested, I may not end up in a school environment with kids who enjoy school and want to work hard to pass their exams like me.
Mum, who has a job in marketing, explained some of the harsh realities of the state system, drawing on the experiences of her friends’ children, who are currently at state schools — and these are ones in ‘good’ areas.
That’s when I started to panic. If I don’t get into a grammar school in Kent (I’ll have to take an academic entrance test at each one I apply to), chances are I’ll end up in one of the few state secondary schools with spare places — probably in a ‘rougher’ area than I’m used to and maybe even a train ride away.
It’s beginning to dawn on me that I could be sitting next to pupils who don’t care about doing well, who sneer when I put my hand up to ask or answer questions, and — worst case scenario — may even carry a knife or drugs in their school blazers. (I Googled this the other day and school violence is statistically more likely to occur in a state rather than private setting according to a 2020 study by the University of York.)
The private system is all I’ve known. At three, I started in a private nursery before moving to reception in a local prep school when I was five, followed by the private secondary school in Derbyshire where I’ve been since 11.
My parents intended for me to stay there until I finished my A-levels. Class sizes are capped at 24, though in some lessons such as art there are only 12 kids.
There are around 75 pupils in my Year 10, and 600 aged 11 to 18 in the entire school. It’s difficult to imagine what it’ll be like to attend a school with up to 2,000 pupils with 35 kids per class. Mum and Dad have primed me that I might stand out as the ‘posh boy’, even though I don’t consider myself to be posh at all.
Knife crime, fights, bullying and intimidation are more common in state schools. This could be gangs, not just individuals, who are more streetwise and potentially more violent than kids I’ve encountered.
I could be viewed as a target for theft, because I’ll be seen as being ‘able to afford it’.
As Mum puts it, everyone loves the downfall of someone perceived to be financially well off. It’s a perception that irritates me and isn’t true. Of course, there are certainly families with kids at my private school for whom the proposed addition of VAT will make no difference. But there are many more pupils whose parents, like mine, make huge sacrifices to put their children through private education.
It’s years since we had a holiday abroad because any ‘spare’ money is swallowed up by mine and my brother’s school fees.
He’s going to a normal further education college to do a BTEC in theatre studies in September. Fees would have increased by several thousand pounds a year for him to stay on in sixth form at private school, even without 20 per cent VAT added.
Our last holiday was a week on the North Yorkshire coast paid for by my grandmother. We were grateful for a holiday, and know many can’t afford one. My parents don’t drive new cars and dread anything going wrong with things in the house, such as the boiler, that would incur costly repairs.
Having been quite relaxed about the prospect of switching from private to state education, my mind is now whirring with ‘what ifs’. What if I’m shamed into submission and stop asking questions in class? What if the teachers don’t have time to speak to me one-to-one?
Will my private school friends look down on me for going to a state school? How will my aspirations to be an investment banker be perceived? Will other teens put me under pressure to try drugs or vape in order to be accepted?
Worst of all, will people take a severe disliking to me just because I’ve come from private school, making me a target of verbal or physical attacks? I’d like to think I’ll just keep my head down if I end up in a school like that. But then I worry whether that will even be possible with thousands of pupils.
Thanks to the small numbers at my current school, any skirmishes are dealt with quickly due to the constant presence of teachers, prefects and other students who willingly intervene.
I don’t want this to be misconstrued as me saying that everyone in state school is a thug or disinterested in education, because that’s far from true.
There are loads of kids who thrive in state school — including my six cousins, half of whom are already at university, while the others will go in September.
However, that hasn’t stopped them commenting about how lucky I am to be at a private school. I think they mostly envy the incredible sports facilities — including rugby and cricket pitches, tennis courts and a climbing centre.
We play weekly sports fixtures against other schools and there are options to do more drama and arts outside the curriculum, as well as lunchtime clubs including bouldering in the Peaks, laser cutting, engraving and 3D printing, golf, Pilates and weight training.
Meanwhile, recent school sports tours have included playing cricket in the UAE, football in Spain, hockey in the Netherlands and rugby union in Canada.
Pupils sit on committees to help create policies for the school on subjects such as diversity and the environment, and there are societies for music, Mandarin and debating — some students are even invited to debate at the European Youth Parliament. All students have to subscribe to at least three extra curricular clubs.
I know I’m not alone in having to move to a state school but that hasn’t stopped me having sleepless nights about it.
The proposed addition of VAT on school fees would impact so many children like me who are extremely happy, settled and well-supported in private education, leaving them to face the worries of an uncertain educational future.
The extra cost will potentially hurt the wrong people: the families who make big sacrifices to afford private school.
I can’t deny I’d feel much happier if I could just stay in private education until I’ve done my A-levels. While we wait for my fate to be decided, I’m just grateful that I’ve gained confidence from my decade in private education, a trait that could go against me in a state school, but which I hope will also enable me to cope with any adversity.
As told to Sadie Nicholas
