This article is taken from the March 2025 issue of The Critic. To get the full magazine why not subscribe? Right now we’re offering five issues for just £10.
Miracles of miracles, Hector has been offered an unconditional offer to, let’s just say, a “decent” school. Not Eton, obviously. Or indeed Harrow, or Westminster. Or Dulwich. Or City. Or King’s Wimbledon (a mad pipe dream I entertained, once in 2021, after drinking too many CBD-infused 0 per cent Negronis).
But, “acceptable”. For a moment, I seriously thought we were heading for some kind of forest-school-adjacent situation, where the only mandatory kit would have been waterproof trousers.
And beards and limited-edition fashion Crocs for the parents. Truly! I went round one of these places. It was, as you’d imagine, basically a cult. They had teenagers doing eurythmics, and greeting each other in the corridors.
Anyway. I’ll be able to mention our “decent” school in Wholefoods, in the inevitable encounters with fellow mothers from current school. If I make a vague illusion to its emphasis on “creativity”, it might even sound like an actual choice on our part.
As if Hector has hidden artistic talents I’ve modestly kept hidden.
Speaking of Wholefoods, in the “panic phase” last year we also came perilously close to considering the American School. Except that Granny Savage-Gore was having none of it, and Will would have had to get his head round middle school vs Junior High. Also the idea of the gloss-factor of the other mothers would be enough to make UCS look shabby.
On that note, hearing that Kate Middleton allegedly looked around UCS — and possibly Highgate, unconfirmed — was a source of complete fascination to all the Year 8 mothers at Hector’s prep.
Could even the Royal Family be living the same nightmare carousel of open days and parent tours as we were? And also considering schools that are manifestly too far away from one’s own home to make any sense?
I found this strangely comforting. People say private schools are elitist. But look! Even the Duchess of Cambridge isn’t exempt from the purgatory of application forms, and having five “Our Admissions Process” tabs open every night at 11pm.
Hence why I’ve just panic-donated £5,000 to the PTA. And volunteered for Tech-Fun morning
Anyway, I say unconditional offer. In fact, the exact phrasing from the school was “on the expectation of continued good conduct and academic progress at a child’s existing prep school, including an unreserved reference of support from their school in March of Year Eight”.
Fuck. It’s not as if there’s much good conduct or academic progress from Hector to speak of, so surely it can’t discontinue? But this still feels like a giant hostage to fortune. Especially the “unreserved reference of support” from the current school. And obviously, everyone else in Hector’s year is in the same boat. Which is why the head’s office looks like a florist.
Rationally, I know it’s in the prep’s interest to be a feeder to the right schools. For once, Will’s right not to “overthink it”, and to keep blithely repeating that the reference is “just a formality”. But what if the head decides to make an example of us? Of Hector!
What if the school decides to withdraw its support by mentioning that Hector once stole lots of fake mosaic tiles from the art room (believing them to be Classical artefacts, during his Greek myths phase) and also couldn’t hyphenate his own surname correctly until Year Six? What then?
Hence why I’ve just panic-donated £5,000 to the PTA. And volunteered for International Afternoon, Tech-Fun morning, a trip to the Natural History Museum (shoot me now), Parents’ Quiz (insert vomit emoji) and the Summer Fair. Basically, the glass ceiling is not one’s male colleagues and their golf days. It’s sodding school events.
