I tried everything to get my son into the ‘perfect’ secondary school – it was a waste of time

Your precious child has arrived at Year 6. They are the big kids. The sixth formers of primary school. The mentors for the reception kids. They’ve survived nits, a residential and got a lead part in the summer play but soon all of this will become a distant memory when next year they are faced with BIG SCHOOL. This month, across England, parents and their precious 10/11-year-olds are touring the local secondary schools hoping to find the perfect balance of academia, sports, friends and after-school clubs to fit their child’s needs. The quest is a relentless stream of after-school assemblies where heads pitch to unsuspecting parents, parade their model students, cover up the missing ceiling tiles to entice applications even when they are already oversubscribed or under special measures. As a fine product of the state school system myself (I got a C in home economics, thank you very much) I’ve always had faith in sending my children to local schools, as long as Ofsted hasn’t flagged up axe-wielding pupils or a suspiciously high turnover in PE teachers. Shorts A few years ago, when my eldest was 11 she was offered a place at the school in our catchment area which was two bus rides and a 15-minute walk away. The school was also on Ofsted’s critical list. I really wanted to be that parent who took the risk – perhaps the new head will turn the school around? But I had already had an experience of risk and I wanted to be sure that my daughter was in the right place from the get-go. She had started reception in an “experimental” school in west London. When one of the kids’ spelling homework was incorrectly corrected, parents began to doubt the ability of the staff and the school. It was when the new head began to self-diagnose some children with behavioural issues and sent off applications for them to be assessed without parental permission that I decided to skedaddle. Looking for a secondary school, that perfect place for your child, a place where they feel safe and surrounded by their friends is a tricky business. I went to an open evening at a local school knowing there was little chance my son (my youngest) would get in. His best friends are twins and live in the catchment area where they had been offered places. My heart ached at the thought of splitting up this little trio. The school was oversubscribed, but I thought if I show willing the headmaster just might take pity (and possibly be a Motherland fan?). Of course, that’s not how the cookie crumbles and even when I appealed and attended a council meeting to plead my case, I realised there wasn’t a chance in hell. One dad was there whose son didn’t even get a place despite having four older siblings already at the school. To cover all options, I included a Steiner School on our hit list. I used to live near one in London years ago and had heard some good things. Of course, Rudolf Steiner was a bit bonkers (he was a clairvoyant and an occultist) but the modernised update on his approach appealed to me – in principle – no screens or laptops. Free thinking. When we arrived, the building was impressive; a period building set in safe, beautiful grounds. Our tour began in the cloakrooms which were bright and colourful. When I commented on the cheery colours, our guide told us they were in the process of painting over it, the thinking being the less colour encourages the mind to think more creatively. The rest of the building was indeed beige. The teaching staff turnover in UK schools is a problem, says Helen We dropped into a Year 7 class where I asked the teacher about the curriculum. “We all know science is just an opinion” – this was when I decided my children were not destined for this school. The teacher went on to highlight how they celebrate all religions, telling how, for example, during the Advent Spiral they took the children out into the grounds to “bury a candle” and during Winter Wassail sprinkle apple juice on a tree. I’m not strictly against an alternative approach to education and I do believe that some kids would really benefit from this kind of teaching (not the science bit) but it wasn’t right for us. We eventually settled on a school that was relatively new, not oversubscribed and a shorter distance to travel. It had its ups and downs. Both my children started without knowing anyone in their years but, of course, they found friends. I did step in to stop a fight once, between two Year 8 girls which didn’t do much for my children’s street cred. I became the mum who stopped the fight. I felt it was important for my children to grow up around the opposite sex. I went to an all-girls school in Liverpool and as a consequence was cripplingly shy with boys for years afterwards. As a writer and a mum, it was interesting how the girls’ behaviour shifted in Year 7. One minute they’re playing with Sylvanian Families and the next they’ve opened an Instagram account that includes their marital status: Polly, 12. Single. Within a week of my son starting he was targeted by the girls wanting a boyfriend. He came home with a note that said “Do you like me? YES [ ] NO [ ]”. After much turmoil and deliberation he threw it in the bin and avoided the girl for the next seven years. It’s very difficult to know if you’re making the right decision for your kids. Much of it is luck, and how the stars align in the year your child joins. All you can do is make an educated decision and accept you can’t control everything. The teaching staff turnover in the UK is a problem. Just when your child has settled in there’s a high chance their favourite teacher will move on. But kids are resilient and I learned that as long as they seem happy, learning and not getting their heads dunked in a toilet every break time, then they will find their way. My friend gave me a terribly truthful fact before my eldest entered Year 7. As soon as they start secondary school, their friends become more important than their families. I couldn’t contemplate my daughter not wanting to hang out with me or share little secrets she had, but it’s true. Secondary school is a big shift, not just for our children. Their independence kicks in and they need you less. No more drop-offs. No more volunteering on school trips. It’s time to stand back and set them free.