Reading todayâs newspapers or listening to or watching our media, you could be forgiven for believing that comprehensive education has been a widespread and resounding failure in this country. Contemporary commentary, from the boldest headlines to the passing casual phrase, has a repetitive one-note quality: âSchoolchildren âbeing failed by comprehensive educationââ; 1 âComprehensive schools failing poor pupilsâ; 2 âComprehensive schools have failed the working classâ; 3 âWhat about the comprehensive failures?â; 4 âA choice in which the only option ends up being the failing local comprehensive is no choice at allâ. 5 According to one recent critique, it is âgenerally regardedâ as a âdisasterâ. 6
Even articles that purport to be sympathetic to non-selective education will nonetheless employ emotive language â âKent boasts the highest number of grammar schoolsâ 7 â or metaphors more appropriate to the battlefield as when referring to âgrammar schools which survived the drive towards comprehensive educationâ. 8 One well-known memoir of a comprehensive education bears the rather worrying title, Comp: A Survivorâs Tale. 9 Even some Labour leaders have been tempted to use unhelpfully emotive imagery â former Prime Minister Tony Blair talked about the phasing out of selective education as an act âpretty close to academic vandalismâ. 10 Other arguments verge on the patently ridiculous, such as columnist Peter Hitchenâs claim that âthe comprehensive system is anti-educationâ 11 or novelist Tony Parsonâs bizarre assertion, taking the battlefield metaphor to its bloodiest extreme, that going to a comprehensive is âa start in life right up there with dying at the Sommeâ. 12
But such assumptions and distortions simply donât stand up to careful scrutiny. Worse, they obscure a sober assessment of everything from the history of our school system to the structural nature of the labour market, the relationship between economic and educational inequality and the reality of thousands of state schools today. (It is perhaps no coincidence that the majority of editors and prominent commentators who promote an anti-comprehensive rhetoric are privately educated or have chosen private or selective education for their own children.)
Meanwhile, almost every social problem, from the impact of poverty and rising inequality on educational outcomes to classrooms in poor repair is laid at the door of state education, particularly non-selective schools, and despite compelling expert evidence to the contrary, most commentators still recklessly assert that comprehensive reform is responsible for the stalling of âsocial mobilityâ in the UK. But as Diane Ravitch writes in response to similar political assaults on public (state-funded) education in the United States, âpublic education is . . . not âbrokenâ. Public education is in a crisis only so far as society is and only as far as this . . . narrative of crisis has destabilized it.â 13
That is why, in place of the half-truths that pass for objective reporting, we need to draw on the wealth of evidence and human examples that tell a very different story. From this we will see that far from having bred educational failure, the (still unfinished) comprehensive revolution has laid the basis for the potential educational success of the vast majority of young people today.
The principle of comprehensive education is simple. Every child, whatever their social background or apparent intelligence or talents, should have equal access to a well-resourced, broad and balanced education from the earliest years to the age of 18 (from 2015, the legal age for participation in education or training). It is morally and practically wrong to decide a childâs potential, ability or direction in life before puberty. All young people should be well taught and wisely guided throughout adolescence so that they can (begin to) pursue their true passions and talents. Comprehensive education also sends out an important message about children being educated together: that regardless of class, faith, ethnic background, prior attainment, all children should walk through the same gates to school.
This interlinked set of simple but powerful ideas forms the basis of some of the most successful education systems in the world including Canada, Finland, Hong Kong, Singapore, New Zealand, Japan and South Korea. International studies confirm that comprehensive systems and all-ability schools are the most likely to narrow the educational attainment between social classes and that the more and the earlier that an education system divides its children by so-called âacademic abilityâ, the greater the gap between the resultant achievements of children from different social backgrounds. The OECD found that âEarly student selection has a negative impact on students assigned to lower tracks and exacerbates inequities, without raising average performance. Early student selection should be deferred to upper secondary education while reinforcing comprehensive schooling.â 14
Where the selective principle still operates within the UK â 15 local authorities still retain the 11+ and 164 grammars remain â the evidence strongly suggests that it largely benefits the affluent, widens the gulf between the better and less well-off and does long-term harm to the economic prospects of the poorer members of those communities in which selective systems exist. 15 Grammars increase social divides and harm the educational and economic chances of the majority of the population in the area where they are located: âIndividuals who do not make it to the grammar school do worse than they would have done if they had grown up in an area with a comprehensive school system.â 16
Comprehensive reform was the result of growing dissatisfaction with the 1944 settlement which, while establishing the crucial right to universal free education, was structured around the separation of children at puberty according to their presumed talents and ability. The 11+ exam decided if a child was to be sent to an academically-oriented grammar school or a secondary modern where the curriculum was less demanding and few, if any, exams and qualifications were on offer. A third option â the technical schools â never really took off in this post-war period, although the idea is enjoying a kind of revival with the new studio schools and University Technical Colleges.
The 11+ divided young people before puberty but with lifetime consequences and largely along class lines. The long-term effect of failing the 11+ has been described by John Prescott: âThe message was that suddenly you are less than they are. It tends to leave you with an inferiority complex.â 17 Recent research by a website offering learning for those aged 50+ found that this effect is common even 40 years on:
Of those who failed the 11+, 36 per cent said they still âlacked the confidenceâ to undertake further education and training courses, while 13 per cent insisted the experience âput them off learning for lifeâ. Some 45 per cent of adults with poor 11+ results said they still carried ânegative feelings with them into their fifties, sixties and beyondâ, it was revealed. 18
We need to look much more closely, then, at the so-called âgolden ageâ of the grammar schools in the 1950s. Although a minority of lower middle class and an even smaller proportion of working-class children did gain entry to grammar schools, âplaces tended to go to the sons and daughters of professional business men/womenâ. 19 Not only were the majority of working-class children channeled into the less well-resourced and less well-regarded secondary moderns, but as former head Adrian Elliott recounts in his book on state education since the 1950s, academic results in the grammar schools themselves were under par. Those working-class children who did get into a grammar often gained fewer qualifications and left school much earlier. 20 As Elliott states,
According to the Crowther Report in the late â50s a staggering 38 per cent of grammar school pupils failed to achieve more than three passes at O-level . . . It is clear that of the entire cohort of 16-year-olds at this time, only about 9 per cent achieved five or more O-levels and that less than half of those who attended grammar schools reached this benchmark. 21
These figures, say Elliott, were national averages and so included some of the most high-achieving grammars of the period.
Opposition to the 11+ grew during the 1950s as academics increasingly questioned the evidential basis of the exam itself and ever larger numbers of vocal middle-class parents became unhappy when their children were consigned to clearly âinferior schoolsâ. The journalist Simon Jenkins has written about the âgilded mythâ of the grammars, and reminds us that
At political meetings at the end of the 1960s, theâthen education spokesmanâEdward Boyle was torn limb from limb by conservative voters, infuriated that their children who had âfailedâ the 11+ were being sent to secondary moderns, along with 70â80 per cent of each age group. They had regarded the grammars as âtheir schoolsâ. The 11+, they said, lost them the 1964 election and would lose them every one until it was abolished. Margaret Thatcher recognised this as has every Tory party in practice ever since. 22
Simon Jenkins also reminds us of the bi-partisan nature of reform during the late 1960s and 1970s with both Conservative and Labour local authorities backing the move to âall-inâ schools. Across the political spectrum it was realised that, properly organised, and sufficiently resourced, âall-inâ schools could give many more children the chance to thrive, academically and socially.
Comprehensive reform was never fully achieved. Even today, in 2014, a significant number of grammars remain, together with a small but powerful private sector that educates 7 per cent of the population. Nevertheless, from the â60s onwards, comprehensive reform had a major impact on the chances of the majority. First, most children in this country were not told that they were failures before they had reached puberty and therefore were deliberately to be consigned to second-rate schools. Second, the advent of comprehensive education endowed those same young people, who would previously have been written off as wholly without skills or talents, with the chance to acquire a range of knowledge and qualifications and the confidence to continue enjoying learning. Coupled with a progressively higher school leaving age, it gave many more young people the chance to gain qualifications so that the percentage of young people gaining five O-levels (or GCSEs) rose from 23 per cent in 1976 to 81 per cent in 2008. 23
According to Brian Simon, an early advocate of comprehensive education,
the concept of a common curriculum for all . . . was a major objective of the whole comprehensive reform movement of the 1960s and 1970s [and earlier]. This movement was primarily concerned to prevent shutting off access to full life opportunities for considerable proportions of the nationâs youth. 24
This it did, in spectacular fashion. The number of students in education at age 17 grew from 31 per cent in 1977 to 76 per cent in 2011 and those achieving a degree rose from 68,000 in 1981 to 331,000 in 2010, an almost five-fold increase. 25 Both the percentage and absolute number of working-class men and women who went to university in the 1970s increased for the first time since the 1930s. 26
Jenny Chapman, the Labour MP for Darlington, spoke of the human side of this expansion, in a debate on social mobility in the House of Commons in 2010:
five or six years ago there were one or two wards where a young woman of eighteen or nineteen wou...