Choosing a school? Let battle commence!

Ellen Widdup’s escape to the country

IN LONDON, getting your children into school starts early – in most cases before they are even born.

The first thing many Londoners do after getting a positive pregnancy test is to begin attending the church attached to the best primary.

Others will not just move heaven and earth, they will move home too.

A few streets can make the difference between a school where knives are part of the uniform and one that churns out A-grade students with an aptitude for algebra.

Put simply, parents in the capital have to be prepared to engage in a battle with the education system from embryo to 18.

When I set about finding a school for my daughter in north London I was armed and dangerous.

It sounded simple – get hold of a list of local primary schools, visit them, ask questions, read the Oftsed reports and submit my top choices to the local authority.

Don’t let them fool you.

I jumped through hoops to get a place at our local state school – despite the fact that we live less than a mile from its front door.

My daughter had a few speech delays. She also has a mild squint and wears glasses. And recently she was diagnosed with glue ear – a very common hearing condition that usually cures itself, eventually.

I hold my hands up – when I applied for schools in the city, her “complexities” were a godsend. They gave me a delicious opportunity to manipulate my way to a place in reception.

If you had read my application form you would have blushed at my gall. But it worked and they awarded her a place based on the premise that I worked from home and needed to be close-by to take her to her array of medical appointments through the school year.

You might think I should be ashamed of being so pushy. I’m not. I did whatever it took and I was fully prepared to do the same once we had moved to Suffolk.

That is why I was genuinely shocked on speaking to Suffolk County Council that battle-mode was not going to be necessary.

I rang them in a panic when I realised our catchment school had been deemed “inadequate” by Ofsted.

“What can I do? Will I need to pay for private school? Should I home teach? If I bring cakes into your office, will you reconsider...?” I shouted down the phone at the poor woman in the education department. But she allayed my fears at once: “Oh no, that won’t be necessary... there are places in most reception classes… just pick your favourite.”

Apparently, if a school had space, my daughter could have a place. Simple as that.

I put down the phone and punched the air – I didn’t even have to lead the PTA to a record-breaking summer fete or promise to rival Downton Abbey’s costumes with my efforts for the nativity.

We visited four schools – one rated “outstanding” by Ofsted and two “good”. The fourth was Kyson Primary School. It is larger than I wanted, a drive from the house and was only deemed “satisfactory” by inspectors who carried out the last report.

I thought my choice would be an easy one.

Surely top of the list was a nice village school – the one with the best record for academic achievement? But I was not at all prepared for the power of gut feeling. It was the age-old dilemma of heart versus head.

One village school was sweet but lacked diversity. At another, the head was “busy” and we were shown around by a secretary who answered “don’t know” to most of my questions.

Kyson was the biggest surprise. Despite having the largest number of pupils, it had a feeling of warmth that the other schools seemed to lack. It boasts an impressive music room, a swimming pool, a bank of notebook computers and a smart blue and grey uniform complete with a gold tie.

But, for me, the deciding factor was the headteacher. I found her extraordinary. She knew every one of her 420 pupils. She was calm, engaging and she took an hour and a half showing us all the classrooms, introducing us to teachers and patiently answering questions. She even offered to carry my two-year-old son when my arms got tired.

I had just one dilemma. Would it be crazy for me to turn down the chance of sending my child to an outstanding school in favour of one which has taken a slight slip in official ratings? Just how much emphasis should we, as parents, place on Ofsted?

It was my daughter who helped me make up my mind. We sat down after supper one night to discuss the schools we had seen. I wanted her to have some ownership of the choice, which I hoped would help her come to terms with leaving her little friends behind in the capital.

She thought about it all, quietly, for a few minutes. Not one to mince her words but keen to adopt my own melodramatic approach to the situation, she had just one thing to say. “My heart would be broken if I don’t go to Kyson School,” she said. So there we have it. The heart had to rule the head. No contest.

n Please email me with any encouragement and feedback at EllenWiddup@journalist.com or get in touch @EllenWiddup on Twitter.