I used to feel guilty that four of my five children aren’t privately educated. I was myself, and I felt that in some way I had let them down.
I feared they were missing out on the endless japes and profound friendships often forged at boarding school when children live away from home. I don’t think that any more.
Instead, I hear countless evidence of the entitled, snobbish brats Britain’s private schools are churning out, and breathe a sigh of relief that my brood are nothing like that.
To be honest, the decision was made for us, as we can’t afford it. I always knew I wanted a large family and having more kids was, for me, more important than a private education.
However, to put my cards on the table, our eldest – Isaac, now 18 – was privately schooled until he was 16. Initially, we couldn’t get him into a state primary we were happy with in London. When we moved to the north Essex countryside two years later, we enrolled our second child, Beatrice, in the cosy village primary.
But there was no room for Isaac, so we found him a local private school with great sporting facilities instead. I am happy to say he has loved his state school sixth form just as much. And our three daughters and youngest son have only ever known the state system.
I am, to my surprise, incredibly grateful for that. I recently visited a friend who was in tears about the vicious bullying her daughter endures at boarding school, and how helpless she feels being miles away.
The other day, my daughters were asked by a 13-year-old boy who attends a private school if they were ‘chavs’. He walked away sniggering. My girls were mortified, telling me later they worry their voices aren’t posh enough and their clothes aren’t good enough, which makes my heart hurt.
I hear countless evidence of the entitled, snobbish brats Britain’s private schools are churning out, and breathe a sigh of relief that my brood are nothing like that, writes Sybilla Hart
The children I have met in the state sector are generally more grounded, polite and respectful
We know people from all backgrounds so they often socialise with children from private schools, and it appals me how often they are snubbed or made to feel inferior.
At a party this summer, my eldest girl was asked which school she attended (meaning which private school). Some kids are gracious and don’t probe, but others call them out, saying, ‘Oh, is that a state school?’ before telling everyone in earshot as if it’s something to be ashamed of. The girls admit how much this embarrasses them, but luckily they’ve developed a thick skin.
Boarding school kids can be so spoilt, too. Recently, one of my children returned crying from a shopping trip with some private school pals, saying everything she had wanted to buy was snapped up by her friends without thinking, so much so that she ended up carrying some of their shopping bags for them.
I consoled her that it is far better for her that if she wants something, we have to discuss it first and then plan how we are going to pay for it. Still, ‘Why do I have to have clothes for my birthday when so and so gets them “for free”?’ is a common refrain in our house.
I know boarding school kids who’ve been caught stealing from their parents – ‘She won’t miss that £100 from her wallet’ – and ones who routinely expect to be taken out for clothes hauls and cocktails (yes, cocktails) by their mums. A ridiculous notion.
So just why are so many of them entitled brats?
I think it’s partly because time together is too short and precious to jeopardise with a big fallout over behaviour.
Whereas I monitor my children on a daily basis – constantly telling them off for swearing and bickering with their siblings – boarding school mums only get a brief window for discipline.
By contrast, the children I have met in the state sector are generally more grounded, polite and respectful. They are straight-talking, look you in the eye and tend to understand boundaries – I recently noted how well my daughter’s friends took my refusal to host an impromptu sleepover. Unlike public school children, they don’t expect to get their own way every time.
If I give them a lift in my old car, they don’t care that there is a smelly dog breathing on them and Cheestrings in the backseat pockets.
The private school system seems to have sacrificed good manners at the altar of the perfect curriculum product, and learning how to fence or play lacrosse is more important than saying please or thank you.
If I had privately educated all my kids, I would hardly have seen them, missing them for days only to have them land on weekends or at half-term demanding the latest Minka Dink top or blusher from Sephora. The answer would have been no, to be met with a furrowed brow and a muttered ‘You’re so embarrassing’.
We would have argued about why the car was old and dirty – what was I doing all day? – and why couldn’t they have that cool top and blusher? It might well have continued like that for the rest of half-term until they finally got the point before flouncing back to school.
I shudder to think of it. Give me a state school education over that any day.
