Eleven Plus

Reference to a Grammar School Education, sits nicely anywhere in a Curriculum Vitae.

It may open a few doors when highlighted in an application for an oversubscribed position. It would appear to be a standard expectation in an entry for those who reach the lofty heights in their chosen fields and get a mention in Who's Who or at the other end of the acheivement spectrum, in newspaper coverage of some heinous crime. The simple desciptive fact can explain why great things were attained or serve as a sobering lecture subject entitled "What on earth went badly wrong? " after such a privileged participation in the hallowed halls and quads of an historic establishment.

I was a bright kid at age 10 and although much of my knowledge came from Readers Digest publications, of which my parents were unwilling recipients on the most part, this source of information covering the Treasures of Britain to Encyclopaedic Volumes of everything in the manmade and natural worlds and from Home Improvements to another new, revised and updated  UK Road Atlas excited my thirst for knowledge.

Our house, when I was growing up, did have a lot of books in it. The aforementioned publications just kept arriving on a 14 day approval amongst letters saying that my parents had reached the last round of eliminations for a bumper prize and that they were already assured of one the following A) Chrome effect ballpoint pen B) Chrome effect Desk Top Calculator C) £10 voucher for British Home Stores.

Hand me downs or jumble sale purchases also included almost complete sets of faded faux leather bound hardbacks of the works of Charles Dickens and Sir Walter Scott although in sweaty young hands the blood red of the covers would easily transfer onto skin or clothes.

I never actually fully read any of these great stories but sort of dipped in and out if waiting to get into the bathroom or in an idle moment waiting for the valves of our TV to warm up enough to watch a programme. This version of what I suppose would be called Speed Reading did evidently work and even in my later years, today, some nugget of information about a place, time, character or event will suddenly emerge from my deep rooted memory bank and startle me into answering a Mastermind quiz question or completing a stubborn clue on a crossword.

My first day at Grammar School was something for which I had no preparation whatsoever. That was apart from a pristine uniform of badged blazer, stripey tie, stiff collared white shirt, razor sharp creased trousers and shiny formal shoes. I may even have brushed my hair. Us newbies stood out dramatically against those who had served their first year or more. They looked fatigued, stooped and very old.

It was a great coming together of boys from all over the county and I only knew a small number from my State Primary School who like me had de-mystified the 11 plus entrance exam. Splinter groups had already formed of those from the posh Preparatory School, The Catholic Primary , outlying village schools, a few lone students who had just moved to the area at this stage in their education and about 10 boys who actually and amazingly resided in the school as boarders. I did have some envy of the boarders but only based on my perception of such from my speed reading of Tom Browns Schooldays, the adventures of Jennings and Darbyshire and all of the midnight feasting and jolly japes that came with sleeping over on the premises.

In retrospect they were quite a sad and dysfunctional group especially when they revealed that they mostly only lived a few miles away but were carrying on the tradition of their families who, over many equally sad and dysfunctional generations, had been dumped in a resdiential school as a character forming necessity.

What was clearly evident to me was that although the assembled group en masse were all now 11 year olds there was a considerable variation in maturity and life experiences. As with all large groups there is a slow filtering process to establish a hierarchy. The noisy and confident boys were already milling about at the forefront of their clusters as though holding court as top dog. I had read about an extreme example of this in Lord of The Flies but the reality on that first day was not too far away from that fictional barbarism. I sort of drifted about on the basis of anxiety and shyness showing no firm allegiance to any of the newly forming associations.

It would take fully the next 5 years of attendance at Grammar School for me to find my true position but I was not to know that on that early September day . I nervously hung onto and to a large part hid behind my very rigid brand new leather satchel. I hoped that I had sharpened enough pencils to cope with what the now raucous ringing bell at the very start of that phase of my life would present me with.............

to be continued