On private schools

What 2 blogs in  day, the bastard must be on steroids. But, I’ve just read Margaret Drabble and her despair at the continuing shitty bollocks that is private schooling in this benighted and intolerant country of ours: new thesis: this country’s intolerance is cultivated and fostered via the private school system. The inspiration for this bonus blog is a paragraph from a comment about Drabbles’ article, I think it brilliant:

Throw vast resources at pupils overwhelmingly from families of the upper and middle classes… and celebrate the result as an educational success? It’s a success, all right — as a fiddle.

We all pay the price of those expensive educations, even those who seem to benefit from them. We pay for them in our white vans and our Daimlers, in our subservience and our anger, in our hatreds and resentments.

It’s at the heart of everything that makes Britain shit — shit in ways most other modern democracies have left behind.

And it’s wrong because it’s being “slavishly imitated by the state sector”. Drabble doesn’t quite get at the heart of this aspect of the problem, which isn’t that state schools are putting on airs. It’s rather that the principle of exclusion — of defining the quality of a school in terms of whom it manages to protect its pupils from associating with — is a disease.

Fee-paying schools are like the bad kind of prion, the kind that tricks an entire brain into replicating its structure, and ultimately turns it to squalid mush. The identities that educational stratification plays such a central role in beating into people leads to a kind of generalised moral and cultural stupefaction.”

Entirely reflects my thoughts.

My prime manifesto policy:

  1. To rid ourselves of the cancer that is private education in this country, time to move on from the 19th century.

2 thoughts on “On private schools

  1. Love it, love it, love it, Dunc. In my humble opinion, your writing has shifted up several gears (from a fine start, I should add) and I am now really reveling in it and, more importantly, being informed and challenged and educated by it. I am kinda feeling that, once the crab is slain, you will never be the old Dunc again, but a more powerful, more focussed, more driven, more political and even more effective one. This weird period in your life is starting to look like the crossing of a Rubicon to me……

    By way of supplementing your cancerous research, can I point you at the sublime Mark Ratcliffe show on Radio 6 of a couple of days ago. Guest was Wilko (Feelgood) who, ‘technically’, died recently of pancreatic cancer. His commentary on his post-demise experience was totally inspirational – and, for me, as someone following his noble wind-down with trepidation over the last few months, completely, beautifully, unexpected. Here’s the relevant link: http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b04syl59 Pick it up at 1hr 37 mins…..

    Can I put in a suggestion at this stage in your political march? How about a seaside conference in Swanage sometime in the new year so that all us avid bloggees can get together and ruminate on your various manifesto points. I might even table one of my own invention: no-one is allowed more than 5 ornaments (anything non-functional apart from personal photos) in any room. I think it might tackle global warming and rampant consumerism in one go….

    Also, an idea….. If your taste-buds do finally, temporarily give up the ghost, how about eating something bought from Subway. In some small way your desensitisation will seem like a mini blessing and give you the edge over all their other customers. On second thoughts, probably best not, cos the chemicals in their BBQ sauce will inevitably compromise all your visits to the chemo bar so far….

    Keep fighting, keep yelling, keep blogging, keep photocopying……
    Not-so-Boney M


    1. thanks for those kind words Mark, will listen to Wilko and might be fun having a seaside conference but it would have to be fun and somehow different, let’s have a think. If I did go to a subway I’d probably take a mouthful of their mass produced crap, then spit it out and exclaim loudly that it’s tasteless, which would be true. Am setting up alternative blog: the real Iain Duncan Smith by the real Duncan Smith so any dirt on the fucker.
      love Duncan


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