The Observer Magazine of 24 January 1965 took a look at private primary schools (‘Report on our prep schools’).
‘All except the best and strongest of them feel vulnerable,’ wrote Paul Ferris. ‘They suspect that politicians see them as the soft underbelly of the private system.’
The fear was that the public schools – the only reason for their existence – would, if pressed politically, abandon them, and ‘settle for state-educated children’.
‘Many prep schools are in and around London. They’re day schools occupying converted Victorian buildings, some of them are moderately good, others are well below state-school standard in everything but snob-appeal,’ concluded the writer.
Even the smarter schools were on edge. ‘If you’ve got an axe to grind,’ warned one Birmingham headmaster, putting the grind into Gradgrind, ‘I’ll grind it afterwards by correspondence, and I guarantee I’ll grind you up.’
A number of snobbish prep-school masters had only contempt for state schools – and sometimes, you feel, for state people, too, wrote Ferris. ‘R—- on a Saturday afternoon is hell,’ said one senior master referring to the nearest town. ‘Awful-looking people, far too much money. Half of them can’t read or write. Half the time you don’t know if they’re male or female – the only way is to take their trousers off.’
One master said the pupils used their nicknames. ‘In a way it’s a sign that a boy has finally made it when he plucks up courage to call you by your nickname,’ argued one. ‘Mine’s Beakie, because of my long nose.’
Some of the bad prep schools were indifferent to arranging for boys to see films, plays or paintings. ‘We can’t risk infection,’ was the standard excuse, as it seemed it was with sex education. ‘I’m against it,’ said one headmaster. ‘It might put ideas into the younger boys’ heads.’ Or… educate them?
