I regret pushing my son through grammar school – his confidence was destroyed

On 31 October, applications for secondary school places will close in England. This means many parents spend this month looking for the best school for their child. The i Paper spoke to three parents who feel they made the wrong choice for their children – for a variety of reasons. The state school that promised the earth but our son slipped through the cracks When we were picking schools we were bowled over by one, hugely over-subscribed, state school that promised incredible facilities and opportunities, plus access to an excellent sixth form for the brightest pupils. We’d visited the school twice and been blown away by the charismatic headteacher and the confidence and vibe of the place, as well as the facilities. We knew of kids who’d really thrived there. I was determined to get our son H a place. It was a few miles away from us and we didn’t fit into the catchment area, but they gave scholarships to kids who were musically able. So, we got H to take piano lessons (which he hated) and while he hardly shone at the audition, somehow, he bagged a place. I couldn’t believe our luck – we were over the moon. But, our experience turned into a big disappointment. With over 2,500 pupils, H, who was of average ability and a lazy temperament if unchallenged, slipped between the cracks. While he loved it there and made good friendships, he didn’t exactly thrive academically. Shorts Parents’ evenings were chaotic, with hundreds of parents queuing up to speak to teachers who often couldn’t remember who our son was, never mind whether he was doing OK or needed extra support. The overall message each year was that his results weren’t disastrous; he just needed to apply himself, and he assured us he would. The school prided itself on its incredible exam results and therefore recommended him taking 14 GCSEs – we eventually got it down to 12 – which with hindsight that was still far too much. With so much catching up to do, he spread himself too thin. He passed 11, but nearly all were low passes, which meant he couldn’t take A levels at any local sixth form. We blame ourselves as his school reports were often underwhelming but he always assured us he’d put the work in. But by the time he came to take exams, he was too far behind and out of his depth. I regret trusting the school to pull him through, trusting him to know what he was doing, and the fact that we didn’t pay for tutoring to ensure his grades improved. He’s got a job he loves now, and is doing fine, but I still regret believing the hype about his school. The grammar school that worked for one son – and not the other Our academically gifted eldest son excelled in the 11+ style entrance exams at the most sought-after grammar school in our area. Once he got a place, he thrived at the school, which was in the London suburbs and five stops away from us on the train. But for his younger brother G, who was young for his age and lacking in confidence, it wasn’t the right school at all. G was less academically able and only just scraped through the entrance exams, but they gave him a place nonetheless as his brother was there – and the school was famous for great academic results, so we thought his grades would improve over time. We were really happy he’d be following in his brother’s footsteps. But he is a different child altogether and it turned out that parting him from the security of his primary-school friends, who all went to the local comprehensive, was a big mistake. He didn’t fit in at this strict grammar school, was frequently bullied en-route because of his uniform, and struggled to keep up academically. He was often off sick with tummy aches and headaches – which I now realise were signs of his growing anxiety. Eventually he told us about the bullying, and from then on we had to take him to school in the car. Thanks to some tutoring from us and his teacher uncle, he scraped through his GCSEs, but his confidence was wobbly for a long time afterwards. Now 16, he is doing an admin apprenticeship with the local council and while he doesn’t hate it, I reckon he could have achieved more in an environment more suited to him. He always loved animals and, with the right school support, could have been a vet or worked for an animal charity, but it feels like that’s just not going to happen now. It’s good to see him hanging out with his old friends from primary school and getting his confidence back, but I wish we hadn’t put him through the misery of grammar school at all. The school we had doubts about – and carried on anyway When we received the letter telling us which school our son C had a place at, my heart sank. It was our fifth choice, a famously rough inner-city school, and while its exam results were improving year on year, I worried how our shy son would fare in such an environment. He was arty and sensitive, while the school was more famous for science and sports. But it did look like a school that was on the up. It had recently been rebuilt, with sparkling new facilities, it had a progressive new head teacher, and was a co-ed, which we thought would benefit C, an only child with a handful of male friends. In some respects, we told ourselves, it was a better prospect than the much smaller boys’ school where two of his friends went, which was closer to home. But then, the boys’ school performed better academically. Agonising over this was a moot point as the boys’ school was over-subscribed, and we knew it would be a struggle to win him a transfer there at appeal. Perhaps we should just trust the new head and hope things improve, we told ourselves. But C struggled to fit in there. He was neither geeky nor sporty and couldn’t find his tribe. Joining the after-school chess club at his tutor’s suggestion did help him feel a little less isolated, but he still spent his school life largely trying to blend in so as not to get picked on. The way he described it, the school was like a warzone and he was miserable. Judging by his school reports, his teachers clearly liked him, but while his grades weren’t disastrous, he hardly thrived. Meanwhile, I’d bump into his primary school friends’ parents, and they seemed to fare better, which always gave me a pang of guilt. Why hadn’t I fought harder for him? But then, come GCSEs, he surprised us all. His grades were good enough to do A levels and, now at sixth form, he’s even contemplating university. But he is still shy and lacking in confidence. I blame myself and just wish he’d had more of a happy time at school. I often ask myself if he’d have thrived socially if I’d fought harder and got him a place at the smaller boys’ school or ventured further afield to find him a more suitable and friendly environment.