Andrew Adonis. Photograph: Getty Images
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Beyond our Berlin Wall

The way to pull down social barriers in England is through reforming education — encouraging private schools to become more involved in the state sector by backing academies. That could also spread excellence.

Two of the greatest challenges in English education today are, first, not just to reduce the number of underperforming comprehensives but to eradicate them, and second, to forge a new settlement between state and private education.

I put these two challenges together because they go together. It is my view, after 20 years of engagement with schools of all types, that England will never have a world-class education system or a “one-nation” society until state and private schools are part of a shared, national endeavour to develop the talents of all young people to the full.

The two also go together, in that academies are at the heart of the solution to both challenges. It is academies that are systematically eradicating failing comprehensives. And academies – as independent state schools – are the vehicle by which private schools can become systematically engaged in establishing and running state-funded schools.

So, just as the challenge is simple – how to unite state schools and private schools in a common endeavour – I believe the solution is also simple. Every successful private school, and private school foundation, should sponsor an academy or academies. They should do this alongside their existing fee-paying school or schools, turning themselves into federations of private and state-funded independent schools and following the lead of a growing number of private schools and their foundations that have done precisely this and would not think of going back, including Dulwich, Wellington, the Haberdashers’, the Mercers’, the Girls’ Day School Trust, the City of London Corporation and the King Edward VI Foundation in Birmingham.

Simple does not mean easy, nor does it mean little. By sponsoring academies I don’t just mean advice and assistance, the loan of playing fields and the odd teacher or joint activity, which is generally what passes for “private state partnership”, however glorified for the Charity Commission. I mean the private school or foundation taking complete responsibility for the governance and leadership of an academy or academies and staking their reputation on their success, as they do on the success of their fee-paying schools.

The roots of the state-private divide are so deep that they reach to the very foundation of state education in England in the 19th century. Historians talk a lot about Gladstone’s Elementary Education Act of 1870, which essentially started state education. But equally significant were Gladstone’s Endowed Schools Acts 1869 and 1873, which turned the great public schools and many of the newer grammar schools previously run in a rackety way by Crown, church or local appointees, into a Victorian equivalent of today’s academies, with independent governing foundations to control their assets, management and leadership. This Victorian academy status greatly strengthened the private schools as institutions. Yet their fees, and the conservative use of their charitable assets by their new governing bodies, kept most of them largely closed to all except the upper and upper middle classes. And so they remained as the state secondary system developed in parallel, and separately, in the decades after the Balfour Education Act 1902.

There was a moment at the end of the Second World War when history might have taken a different turn. An official report, published in 1944 on the day Dwight Eisenhower reviewed his bridgehead in Normandy, said that the social division between private and state schools “made far more difficult the task of those who looked towards a breaking down of those harddrawn class distinctions within society”. Even Winston Churchill, visiting his alma mater Harrow, talked to the boys of “broadening the intake” and of the public schools becoming more and more based on aspiring youth “in every class of the nation”.

But it didn’t happen. Two generations later, the only significant changes to the private school system are that it is larger and richer, and its average educational attainment has risen to among the highest in the world.

The reason for the failure of postwar policy to overcome the private-state divide can be explained simply. Both sides of politics, and both sides of education, positively wanted the divide to continue. So, for differing reasons, they adopted a one-word policy in respect of private schools: isolation.

On the Labour side, ideological antipathy to fee-paying, and later also to selective, education bred often intense hostility. But the social and legal position of the private schools –plus, paradoxically, the personal educational preferences of Labour leaders from Attlee to Wilson and Callaghan – kept at bay any attack beyond the rhetorical, except for the withdrawal of state funding schemes for small numbers of pupils to attend private schools.

I treasure Roy Jenkins’s exchange with Harold Wilson when turning down Wilson’s offer to become education secretary in 1965. “Looking for an excuse [to decline the job],” he records in his memoirs, “I said that all three of our children were at fee-paying schools and that this surely was an obstacle to being minister of education in a Labour government. Wilson brushed this aside as being of no importance. ‘So were mine,’ he said.” Tony Blair was the first prime minister in history to send his children to state secondary schools.

On the Tory side, there was an equal and opposite isolationism. Most Tory ministers and MPs went to private schools and sent their children to them. They still do. So long as Labour kept the dogs off, they had no desire to court controversy by proposing any role in the state system for private schools and their foundations. Better to let sleeping dogs lie.

So much for the politicians. The leaders of state and private schools were – and many of them remain – similarly isolationist. It was an article of faith among the leaders of the comprehensive movement that private schools were not only socially divisive but also, in their educational practice, largely irrelevant. This is still a pronounced view, even among academy head teachers. They say, to paraphrase: “What can that lot who just spoon-feed the children of the rich ever know about education in Hackney and Knowsley?” As for the heads of the private schools, many of them have been only too eager to agree, especially when the suggestion is made that they might manage academies.

Pressed further, they often say it’s not about ordinary children v privileged children but about non-selective schools vselective schools, an argument made by Sir Eric Anderson when provost of Eton. I found this richly ironic, given that Eton until recently was basically an allability comprehensive for the rich and titled.
 

Writ large

Those on the left, and in the state sector, who see the private schools as an irrelevance need only look at their huge footprint in almost every national elite, from politics and business to the media, sport and the arts. The Cameron- Clegg coalition is an Eton-Westminster coalition. (Westminster School accounted for two of the five Lib Dem ministers in cabinet until Chris Huhne’s resignation, and the rest of the cabinet is practically a roll-call of the other leading private schools.)

To those in the private schools and their governing bodies who are reluctant to embrace academies, I appeal to their professionalism and their charitable missions. It was excusable to stand apart from state-funded education when the state did not want them engaged in the first place. But that is the isolationist politics of the past. With the academies programme, supported across the political divide, they have an opportunity to engage in state-funded education without compromising their independence, renewing for the 21st century their essential moral and charitable purposes.

Depressingly, the politics of private-state school reform is still too often seen in terms of cash transactions. On the left, the conventional wisdom is that charitable status gives an unfair subsidy to private schools which ought to be ended, while some private school leaders and governors, whenever it is suggested that they might sponsor academies or otherwise support state education in a non-tokenistic way, retort that their parents are already paying twice for education, through their taxes and their school fees, so why should they pay a third time over? Some say they would rather “give up” charitable status than be expected to do this.

Both these approaches are misconceived, for they fundamentally misunderstand the position of private schools as charities. “Charitable status” is not a badge that can be awarded or taken away from the assets of private schools by the Charity Commission for good or bad behaviour. Nor could the government do this, nor even parliament, unless charitable assets nationwide are to be held liable to random nationalisation. Rather, it is fundamental to their being, like blood in a mammal.

The assets of Eton, Westminster, Winchester and the rest are vested in their present trustees and managers on the understanding that they be deployed for charitable purposes. Private school charities can no more “give up” charitable status than they can have it stripped from them. If they do not wish to continue as charities, or if they are unwilling to perform genuine charitable endeavour, then their highly valuable charitable assets should be passed into hands willing to do so. If the governors of Westminster School, for instance, then want to set up a separate, non-charitable trust solely or very largely concerned with the education of those able to pay their fees of £31,000 a year, that is up to them.

The charitable purposes of these institutions could not be clearer. William of Wykeham established Winchester for the education mainly of poor scholars, and only a small number of “noble commoners”. Henry VI set up Eton for poor scholars. Charterhouse was established by Sir Thomas Sutton, the wealthiest commoner in England, for – yes, more poor scholars. Elizabeth I endowed Westminster School for the same purpose; to this day it is an integral part of Westminster Abbey. John Lyon set up Harrow in 1572 as a free grammar school for the education of boys of the parish of Harrow.
 

Conscience and duty

I could go on through the statutes, charters and founding deeds of hundreds of private schools. It shouldn’t take the Charity Commission to challenge private school foundations about their charitable mission. Their trustees and governors should look to them constantly as a matter of conscience and duty.

With each passing decade many of these schools have become more, not less exclusive, and for generations now few of them have done anything bold to reconnect with their charitable purpose. Most of them are seeking to provide a few more bursaries. Yet it is hard to argue that this is enough, when they could also be running academies whose central purpose is the mission for which their assets were intended in the first place.

As for the idea that these great schools and foundations are not capable of making a success of academies with a more challenging pupil intake, it is a comic proposition. The governing body of Eton is chaired by the former Conservative minister William Waldegrave. Its members include three professors, three knights, five PhDs and a Prussian princess. Westminster School’s governing body is chaired by the Dean of Westminster – John Hall, the former chief education officer of the Church of England who was the driving force behind the Church’s decision to set up more than 30 academies. His fellow governors include the Dean of Christ Church, Oxford, the Master of Trinity College, Cambridge, three professors, two canons, two knights, one baron and one dame.

Almost every private school governing body in the country is a catalogue of the very great and the very good, locally or nationally, including business, religious and educational leaders.

The notion that these organisations, if they have the will to do so, cannot command the resources and the expertise needed to run a successful school or schools in less advantaged areas – if that were true, England would indeed be Greece, about to default on its whole society and not just its state borrowing.

However, there is no need to argue by assertion. The leaders are there. Dulwich is spon - soring an academy in Sheppey. Wellington is sponsoring an academy in Wiltshire. The King Edward VI Foundation is sponsoring an academy in Sheldon, east Birmingham. All these academies replace failing comprehensives. The Girls’ Day School Trust has converted two of its outstanding private schools, in Liverpool and Birkenhead, into state academies. And five substantial academy chains – built up by the Mercers’ Company, the Haberdashers’ Company, the Woodard Corporation, the United Church Schools Trust and the City of London Corporation – have grown out of the management of historic chains of private schools, leveraging this expertise and experience in education to service academies alongside. With vision and leadership, there could be hundreds more academies sponsored by private school foundations.

It would also be good to see successful independent day schools convert to become academies. It was one of my main objectives for the academies programme, as minister for schools, that it should be a vehicle for a modern version of the “direct grant” scheme, which until its abolition in the 1970s made it possible for leading independent grammar schools to be state funded without charging fees. I had in mind a simple model. The private school would become an academy, fully retaining its independent management and character but without fees for any pupils. It would exchange academically selective admission for all-ability admission, with a large catchment area and “banded” admissions so as to ensure a fully comprehensive ability range. There would also be a large sixth form, underpinning continued very strong academic performance.

A direct-grant sector on these lines is gathering scale. I encouraged and oversaw the transition of five historic fee-paying secondary schools to academy status (William Hulme’s Grammar School in Manchester, the Belvedere School in Liverpool, Birkenhead High School, and Colston’s Girls’ and Bristol Cathedral schools in Bristol). All five are still performing strongly as academies, while expanding their intake and greatly broadening their social range. The Cameron government has continued this policy. Liverpool College and the King’s School, Tynemouth – both highly successful independent day schools in localities that suffer from high levels of deprivation – have recently decided to become academies.

With government encouragement, there could soon be 50 or 60 more “direct grant” academies. Over time, these direct grant academies could sponsor new academies, replicating their ethos and success within the system.

I recently visited the Petchey Academy, one of the five such schools in Hackney, east London, sponsored by Jack Petchey, a great East End philanthropist. His academy isn’t just about examination results; it is about education for character, for community and for citizenship. This is done brilliantly, in one of London’s most deprived communities.

The staff were particularly keen that I should see debating teams from Years 10 and 11 debate before the whole of both year groups. The debaters were articulate and well prepared, just like the pupils in all those private school debating societies.

The motion they were debating was: “This House would abolish the private schools.” It was carried by two to one. All the old arguments were aired. Unfairness. Privilege. Elitism. Afterwards, I asked the girl who had led the charge whether she had ever visited a private school. “Of course not,” she said. “Why would they want to have anything to do with anyone from around here?”

Why indeed. It is time to bury the past and build a better future.

Andrew Adonis is a Labour peer and served as schools minister from 2005-2008. For a unique New Statesman reader offer on his new book, “Education, Education, Education” – just £8 (rrp £12.99), signed and with a personalised inscription – visit bitebackpublishing.com and enter the promotional code: NSEducation.

This article first appeared in the 17 September 2012 issue of the New Statesman, Who comes next?

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The lost boys: how the white working class got left behind

The gap between poor and middle-class white pupils is widening. What can we do about the educational plight of underprivileged white youngsters?

One pleasant Thursday at 3.20pm, Carl Roberts, the principal of the Malling School in Kent, walks to the front gates. Along with several other members of staff, he makes the same journey every morning and afternoon, greeting pupils as they arrive and leave. “It’s all about modelling positive behaviour for young people from disadvantaged backgrounds,” he explains.

Roberts is an admirable head teacher. Energetic and ambitious, he runs a school that marries warmth with a sense of order. Just outside the gates, he gently admonishes the only boy without his shirt tucked in. The child immediately apologises.

The Malling has thrived during Roberts’s eight years as head. In 2015 it was rated “good” across all of the main areas assessed by Ofsted, the schools standards agency, and “outstanding” for its students’ personal development. In recent years, its overall progress has been in the top third of schools nationally and the attainment gap between disadvantaged and non-disadvantaged pupils is less than half the UK average.

The school is nestled in East Malling, a town that at first glance seems to conform to an idealised view of 1950s England: abundant green spaces and farmland, several busy pubs and a couple of churches. There was an uproar last year when East Malling Cricket Club, which dated back to the 19th century, closed because of a shortage of funds and players – even though there remain three other clubs within four miles of the station. Tonbridge and Malling, the constituency that encompasses the town, is among the safest Conservative seats in the country and ranks above average judging by national indicators for employment, health and well-being.

This is not an obvious place to find students struggling. Yet at the Malling School last year only 30 per cent of pupils got five good GCSEs including English and maths. Of the third of students eligible for free school meals (FSMs) – the national average is one in five – just 17 per cent get five good GCSEs, falling to 15 per cent for boys. Here, almost all of these pupils are white.

These results are indicative of a wider trend. Across England, the white working class performs badly. Overall, just 28 per cent of white children on FSMs get five good GCSEs; the figure drops to 24 per cent when girls are excluded. A white working-class boy is less than half as likely to get five good GCSEs, including the core subjects, as the average student in England, and among white boys the gap between how poor and middle-class pupils do is wider than for any other ethnic background. As Theresa May noted in her first speech as Prime Minister, “If you’re a white, working-class boy, you’re less likely than anybody else in Britain to go to university.” More recently, she signalled her intention to address this and other shortcomings in education through sweeping reforms, including allowing grammar schools to expand. Britain, May said, should be the world’s “great meritocracy”.

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A few hundred metres away from the Malling School lies the East Malling estate known to local people as Clare Park. About one-third of the school’s 700 students live in tower blocks here. Roberts says that, all too often, these pupils “will be worried about their parents, they will be worried about where their next meal is coming from. And suddenly they are no longer worried about passing exams.”

Roberts can relate to this. He grew up in the 1980s on a council estate in Tewkesbury, Gloucestershire, and his father was unemployed for many of his teenage years. Roberts attended the local comprehensive and, helped by his supportive parents, got the best GCSE grades in his year. He went on to study at the University of Bath.

“My childhood shaped my values, which is why I now work with children from disadvantaged backgrounds, with a view to ensuring they can have the future I was lucky enough to have,” he says. Maximising pupil attendance is central to doing so. On the main school noticeboard, a sign reads: “365 days a year, 190 in school, 175 not in school”. This is designed to stress to pupils how important it is to attend class, but it also serves as an unwitting reminder of the limits of what any school can achieve.

“Schools will see children for six hours a day,” Roberts says. “There’s a lot of other time when children are much more influenced. Until you sort out things like health for people from disadvantaged backgrounds, until you help them overcome the issues with crime, until you help them overcome the issues associated with poverty and lack of employment, schools are never going to be able to close that attainment gap by themselves.”

When pupils arrive at the Malling School at the age of 11, their attainment is already 20 per cent below the national average. Here, as across England, much of the damage to deprived pupils’ prospects is done even before primary school begins. In his or her first years of life, a young child with two highly educated parents will receive 40 minutes a day more parental engagement in playing and reading – 240 hours more per year – than one with two low-educated parents. By the age of five, there is an average 19-month gap in school readiness between the most and least disadvantaged children.

“This is a wider issue that’s actually nothing to do with schools,” Roberts tells me. “If you’re going to tackle [it], you need to do it between the ages of nought and two in the family home. It’s a social issue, not an education issue.” From their early years, poor white boys do particularly badly. At Key Stage 1, the exams taken when children are six or seven, white boys on FSMs already perform worse than any other ethnic group.

The challenge facing disadvantaged students is exacerbated by politicians’ neglect of primary education. Primary-school teachers in the UK are the youngest in the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development area. In an OECD report in 2012, the UK and Estonia were the only two out of 30 countries surveyed in which class sizes at primary were larger than at secondary level.

“There’s something fundamentally crackers about having a class size of 34 for children aged five and a class size of five for children aged 18,” says Phil Karnavas, the executive principal of the academy trust that runs Canterbury High, another school in Kent with a large proportion of underprivileged white pupils. The earlier in a child’s life money is invested, the further it goes.

Yet deprivation alone cannot explain the struggles of poor white children. Equally disadvantaged pupils from other ethnic groups perform far better. Thirty years ago, researchers divided children in Kingston, Jamaica, into three groups. One group received nutritional supplements; the parents of another group received hour-long weekly coaching sessions in parenting techniques and were encouraged to play with their children and to read and sing to them; the control group received nothing. Those whose parents were encouraged to play with them thrived both at school and in later life and now earn 25 per cent more, on average, than the other sets of children.

Parenting seems to explain some of the differences in results between white children and those of other ethnic groups on FSMs. Studies suggest that ethnic-minority parents often have higher aspirations for their children and are more involved with their education. This leads their children to engage more at school, says Simon Burgess, an economics professor at Bristol University whose speciality is education. More engaged parents can transform a child’s educational prospects. In July, a trial involving 16,000 pupils conducted in England by the Education Endowment Foundation found that children in secondary schools perform better and are absent less often when their parents receive regular text messages alerting them about forthcoming tests.

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Demographics also work against poor white children. According to the Social Market Foundation, where a child grows up now has a greater impact on his or her results in school than in previous generations. Only about 10 per cent of England’s white population lives in London, against 45 per cent of the ethnic minorities. Schools in London have been transformed over two decades with intensive investment and focus from politicians; they are also more likely to have thriving after-school clubs, which are crucial in ensuring that children from disadvantaged areas do not fall behind. There is little selection among state schools in London but, instead, an emphasis on demanding higher standards from all students.

Disadvantaged white children perform better when they are in London but they are more often educated in small towns or rural areas where they can be “invisible”, as Michael Wilshaw, the head of Ofsted, warned in June. They can also suffer because they have longer commuting times than children in big cities, making it harder for them to take part in after-school or homework clubs, if their school offers them at all. Meanwhile, local services such as libraries are more difficult to find, especially since the cuts imposed under the government’s austerity programme. And in places such as Kent, the allure of London, which is nearby, can make it even more of a struggle for schools to attract the best teachers.

“As each year goes on, the quality of teachers gets better and better but it becomes harder to recruit teachers,” Roberts says. He is desperate to introduce a homework club after school but lacks the funding.

Throughout the Western world, boys now work less hard at school than girls and get worse results. Across 64 countries that the OECD surveyed last year, boys were less likely than girls to do homework and to read for enjoyment, but were more likely to play computer games and surf the internet, as well as have negative attitudes towards school and turn up late. Girls aged 15 were, on average, a year ahead of their male peers in reading aptitude.

Yet the gender gap is particularly high among the white working class in England. Just 9 per cent of white males on FSMs aged 18 go to university. For every two disadvantaged white boys who go to university, three disadvantaged white girls do: the highest gap between boys and girls on FSMs in any ethnic group.

White working-class boys suffer from a paucity of positive role models. The decreasing numbers of well-educated, working-class men in public life makes poor white boys less willing to work hard at school. “It’s not cool for boys to do well. They have stereotypes to live up to,” a girl at Canterbury High School tells me.

Another factor working against young boys is that most teachers in the UK are female and middle class, says Anna Wright, an educational psychologist. Less than 15 per cent of primary-school teachers in England are male (the figure rises to 37 per cent in secondary school). And poor children are more likely than advantaged children to grow up with only one parent. In nine cases out of ten, children from broken families live mostly with their mother rather than their father, and so have no male role model.

White boys suffer in particular because of the legacy of deindustrialisation and the collapse of secure jobs for life. “The culture of white, Anglo-Saxon, working-class boys is one which has historically led them from the terraces to the factory, the fields or the farm. That doesn’t exist any more,” says Karnavas, of the Canterbury Academy. “If you’re at the bottom end of generational unemployment – not just first-generation, but in some cases second- and third-generation – your assumption will be that you are not going to be employed.”

Karnavas says that when GCSEs come around, teachers are left “firefighting”, attempting to salvage a few decent results from boys facing stiff challenges from birth. This is nothing new: he argues that we could have been having a similar discussion 40 years ago. However, in a globalised world, the consequences of failure at school have become “more dramatic than they may have been in the past”, as a House of Commons education committee report warned two years ago. There is more competition for jobs than ever before. This bodes ill for white working-class boys, who now rank bottom for educational attainment in England. Their position relative both to girls and to other ethnic groups has never been lower. In the job market, poor white boys are left standing at the back of the queue.

The position of white working-class boys is falling. Ethnic minorities continue to soar: since 2005, the GCSE results of black children on FSMs have improved 50 per cent more than those of white children on FSMs. A white British boy on FSMs is now less than half as likely to get five good GCSEs as a Bangladeshi British boy on FSMs.

The gender gap, too, continues to grow. On current trends, a girl born in 2016 will be 75 per cent more likely than a boy to proceed to higher education. For the first time in history, it will become the norm for women to date and marry men with fewer educational qualifications than they have.

Back at the Malling School, Roberts is content as he lingers by the gates. “They’ve all left incredibly happy, having had a very positive day,” he says. Then he pauses, and regrets that many of the children “may not have their own bedroom or their own workspace. They may not even have books in their house.” By the time they return to school tomorrow, many boys at the Malling may have fallen even further behind. 

Tim Wigmore is a contributing writer to the New Statesman and the author of Second XI: Cricket In Its Outposts.

This article first appeared in the 15 September 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The fall of the golden generation