In 1982 I sat in a cold and dark school hall to take a small test. I was eleven years old. I vaguely remember that I knew that test would determine the next 7 years of my life but I don’t recall feeling that nervous.I was probably more concerned with the ongoing saga of the Dukes of Hazard and whether or not I would get that table top arcade game for Christmas. This test was an inconvenience. I was young for my Year group. A fairly typical August child, I found primary school and particularly writing a challenge.

I was born in Lincolnshire where grammar schools still prevailed in the 1980s, as they do today. Pass and you entered a world of maroon blazers, sixth forms, aspirations, choices in languages and the promise of great riches. Well that’s a slight exaggeration. No one in my family had ever passed the 11 plus. We had singularly failed to unravel the mystery of that test. Therefore, I knew little of what was behind those doors. Parents of children to whom the mystery of grammar school education been closed isolated themselves in a protective ignorance of the opportunities that it might offer. Completely understandable. Those parents had, no doubt, felt the divide in their own education. Why would they encourage their own children to set themselves up to fail?

In 1902 the Balfour act paved the way for secondary education as we know it in this country. Well, more or less. By 1914 the secondary maintained schools were expanding and grammar schools were growing from strength to strength, It wasn’t until after the Second World War that the education system would be overhauled once more. Reformers like GCT Giles were delighted when the Butler act in 1944 promised to radically reshape the system so that, ‘the nature of a child’s education should be based on his capacity and promise and not by the circumstances of his parent’ (Board of Education 1943:7). However, the system change also led to separation of primary and secondary school education. It fuelled a tripartite system and it encouraged streaming. The eleven plus was born.

The eleven plus was a sophisticated means of establishing raw ability. I’m not an expert, obviously, but the nature of the test varied a great deal over the years and from region to region. In my case, there was arithmetic, writing and problem solving. I later joked with grammar school friends that I failed to guess which pyramid the camel was behind and as a defence mechanism that helped a bit. I remember very little about taking the test which is also not a good sign. I do remember the letter though.

The letter is a letter that all young people who have taken the eleven plus will remember . It lands quietly through your letter box, or at least it used to. In most cases it now sits waiting in a parent’s inbox. In my case the letter had a sanguine impact on my friends and family. There was a quiet reshuffling, a careful consideration of implications and then a simple justification of the outcome. My understanding of the implications were narrow to say the least. For the remainder of the year there was an uneasy quiet whenever the subject came up and parents of friends juggled with words to find the appropriate response.

The reality wasn’t quite that bad come September. Secondary modern schools were a whole piece of work in themselves and too much to ponder here. Many of our great cultural and political leaders failed the eleven plus. Well, Cliff Richard and John Prescott were the only two I could find.