The Hunt is on for private school privileges – and now I can see why

Another Voice: In order to claim back 80% business rates on their premises, they are obliged to share their facilities by forging 'meaningful relationships' with local state schools. A pitiful few do

Good for you, Tristram Hunt. The illogical position of private schools pretending to be charities, and thus claiming large tax breaks, needs to be pointed out as frequently as possible, so the shadow Education Secretary’s intervention this week is welcome.

Of course, they will twist and turn and pretend it is not so but tell me, Eton, Harrow and the rest, how can you defend the indefensible? Schools which for the most part were founded for the education of impoverished boys, and thus known as “public”, now have given themselves a status which makes that original position as distant as Pluto and have erected, suggests Hunt, a “barrier to British educational success”. Even their own employees think so. There will come a time, says the head of King’s College School in Wimbledon, one of the most exclusive of the lot, when only children of oligarchs will be attending independent schools. (Noticed how private schools all call themselves “independent”, these days, as if they are about free thinking and the Rights of Man?)

Anyway, for around £30,000 a year, these beacons of “independence” are already pretty pricey. Remove their laughable “charitable” status, and the fees will go up still further, meaning more oligarchs and less normal folk, no? I’ll admit to a bit of a soft spot for KCS, since I grew up in the leafy suburb of Wimbledon, and had pretty serious crushes on at least three boys who sported its regulation black and red scarf. One of them became a pop star, too. They were children of reasonably normal people (even the pop star), since in those days the school took boys who couldn’t spell oligarch, let alone be related to one. Was it any fairer back in the 1980s? Probably not, but I couldn’t see that from the aspect of a teenager. Now, however, I can.

In order to claim back 80 per cent business rates on their premises, private schools are obliged to share their facilities, including teaching, by forging “meaningful relationships” with local state schools. A pitiful few do. The rest do not, unless you consider opening your swimming pool every other Sunday, or having an open day on the lacrosse field as a meaningful relationship.

Looking at it from the private school viewpoint, I can understand why things are a bit tense. I mean, sharing out the bounty might get a pretty dim reception from the school’s paymasters, namely the parents. How would you like to be paying through the nose for little Billy’s education, only to see the rough lot from the local comp stomping up every Wednesday in order to share his purpose-built theatre, Olympic sized pool – or, even worse, his Latin master’s time?

To be honest, I am not sure that the private sector understands even the most basic notion of social responsibility. It might send some children off to patronise African villages once a year, but in Blighty there isn’t even lip service paid to those less fortunate than yourself. Hunt is correct in suggesting that the British educational system promotes a “corrosive divide”, since the presence of the private sector divides society so comprehensively (pun intended) that it ends up dominating public life. To me, the bursary scheme, often trumpeted as a major act of benevolence, is the most odious of all. Bursary students may get great exam results for private schools, but mean the state sector is left devoid of some of its brightest role models and champions. This logic seems not have to occurred to the private sector, which is amazing, given its superior education and all that.

Buck up your pupil exchanges, sponsor a nearby academy or run a summer school, thunders Hunt. Or when the time comes, your charitable status will be for the fairies and you will be forced to commit suicide by price tag. Which is actually quite a fitting ending, when you think about it.

My training regime for a round or two with Paxman

“Alright Mummy. This is your starter for 10. There are 12 edges or one dimensional cubes on a three-dimensional cube. How many one-dimensional cubes are there on a four dimensional cube?” Oh, God. “Alright, how about three bonus questions on the Alps?” I am lying on a sofa as my children fire questions at me from a large tome, namely The University Challenge Quiz Book, which encloses 3,500 questions from the eponymous show.

Yes, dear reader. I pray you will soon be hearing the evergreen Roger Tilling uttering the words “Millard, Hull”, as I and three others from my lovely alma mater take to the studio in a Christmas Special. Obviously we are all oldies, so hopefully Chief Quizzer Paxman will be gentle on us.

Actually in my “training” regime, I have discovered I do know a bit, but it is niche, very niche. If a question on “fictional cats under threat”, Latin words beginning with “ex”, or the works of Gilbert O’Sullivan come up, I’ll be fine. Provided I can get to the buzzer first.

twitter.com/@Rosiemillard