On: A-Levels

I don’t have a single A-Level. Not one.

This is what I tell pupils in response to the question about which subjects I studied in the Sixth Form. Of course, I then have to clarify my statement with an explanation that the reason for my lack of A-Levels is because I was educated in the Scottish system and sat five Higher exams instead, should they misinterpret my comment as meaning that one does not need A-Levels to end up in such a prestigious career as teaching (who am I kidding? As if any of them ever want to be teachers!).

Today is A-Level results day. It’s also the day that Jeremy Clarkson’s annual tweet (is a tweet still called a ‘tweet’ in the post-Twitter world?), reassuring students who are disappointed with their results, is reposted and adapted to refer to him sailing the Med/eating truffle/owning Bentleys/delete as appropriate. It’s a day that brings with it much emotion. I have been congratulating and commiserating with the outgoing U6 this morning, pointing them in the direction of UCAS advisors, offering my opinion on University offers, and trying to be as reassuring as I can.

It’s these moments in pastoral care that I find challenging. How do we strike the right balance between celebrating hard work, acknowledging disappointment, and bringing a sense of perspective (without going as far as Jeremy Clarkson)? And how do we encourage a culture in our boarding houses of serious hard work, whilst acknowledging that identity is not found solely in academic success? There will be many wise and thoughtful posts across the metaverse today about how we support children through academic success and disappointment, but here are some of my thoughts.

Firstly, I think we should expect much of children. There is an extensive body of research into the gender gap in educational attainment, where girls have generally outstripped their male counterparts at school. This is a trend found across educational systems and across countries*. It is reported that stereotyping from an early age is to blame (I can almost hear your eyes roll, dear reader! You are feeling a sense of déjà vu, I know, but I’m afraid that gender stereotyping really does appear to be at the root of so many of our problems). Teachers who assume that boys don’t like reading, or who expect boys to be less compliant in the classroom, or somehow less biologically prone to studying – no matter how unaware they are of these insidious stereotypes – may be causing our young men to fall behind. For those of us who are both caregivers in the boarding context and teachers in the classroom, we have a challenge here: are we treating each child as an individual and expecting them to give of their best in order to achieve their best? Or do we fall prey to hackneyed clichés that boys are less hard working or inherently less ‘academic’ than their female counterparts?

It seems obvious, but we should seek to create a culture of encouragement in our boarding houses, where we help individual children to thrive. This means we support and offer opportunity for them to pursue their individual passions on the sports field, on the stage, or in the symphony hall (when parents ask me what the culture of my boarding house is, I very often say we are all-rounders: no matter what your skill or interest is, you should feel at home here). But we should also expect them to do as well as they possibly can academically. Let’s be conscious of language around the boys in our care: let’s expect them to do well, and not write them off because of their gender.

In addition to setting high expectations for children, let’s ensure they have the opportunity to do as well as they can. If I am going to encourage Chandler Bing to read, then I need to offer him the right environment to enjoy doing so. We have a two-tiered library in our boarding house, and it was wonderful to see the space being used for revision and reading during exam time, where boys would work independently in quiet corners or collaboratively in little huddles. My challenge, now, is to encourage boys to use that space outside of exam time. I am beginning a process of tidying up the book collection so that there really is something for everyone on those shelves, be it biography or encyclopaedia. I have also taken out subscriptions for various news magazines (from across the political spectrum, in case you were wondering!) to encourage engagement with current affairs beyond what they hear at home or in the classroom. The next step (you’ve guessed it) is to make it a bit more homely: a place to study can also be a place to relax.

If you don’t have the space for a library, is there an easy way for boys to take out books from the central library? Do you have magazine or newspaper subscriptions? Could you arrange a study group in house? A book club, perhaps? Can you make use of your team of tutors to provide additional study support? Whatever we do, let’s make sure we are providing as many opportunities as is feasible within our means, budgets, and time, to enable boys to achieve the best they can.

I think the final thing to get right is to help boys realise that their identity doesn’t lie in academic success alone. This is a really tricky one. After all, fundamentally, these boys are at boarding school to learn. This is an educational establishment, where we put children through a series of academic rigours from a very early age, and train them to put pen to paper in order to – fingers crossed – get an email on the 17 August with the desired combination of numbers and letters on it in order to move on to the next big challenge: university. In the environment in which I work, the vast majority of pupils do go on to tertiary education, and the key that unlocks that particular door is, inevitably, A-Level results. Results matter. There is no getting away from that. But they aren’t everything.

I have had a few conversations today with boys who are disappointed with one or more A-Level result. They have worked hard and want their efforts to be recognised: this is such a basic human response, isn’t it? We hate to feel cheated or undervalued. The danger comes when we find our value in external measures of success like A-Level grades. The vast majority of boys have been accepted onto a good university course. It might not be number one choice, but the beauty of the UCAS system is that candidates can hedge their bets and select five acceptable universities. One message I have preached several times today is that A-Level results come secondary to university acceptance: “if X establishment wants you to be one of their students on the basis of the results you have achieved today, then you have succeeded. Forget the specific combination of letters you woke up to this morning”.

There are some, though, who will feel the crushing disappointment of not only waking up to letters that are further down the alphabet than they would like, but of not finding themselves accepted onto any of the five university choices they have made. It really is heart-breaking to witness the feeling of abject despondency that so often accompanies such news, and it can be difficult to bring encouragement to children who feel that their identity has been shaken in moments like this. In the aftermath of such news, we seek alternative options through clearing; we consider gap years; we think about apprenticeships; and we commiserate with the child.

The reality, though, is that identity is shaped over a lifetime, and we must seek to view academic success as but one facet. As caregivers, particularly in a boarding context where we have the privilege of experiencing so much of a child’s life, we should seek to help children to develop into all-rounded adults. Let’s expect much of them academically, yes, but let’s not stop there. Let’s encourage them to hone their skills, wherever they are found; let’s enable them to develop compassion and care for others; let’s educate them to have open minds. Letters from A* to U are but one, small, measure of success.

For those who feel today that they have failed themselves, their teachers, their parents, I am sorry. But I do believe that there is life after exam results. Much like a diamond, our character and personality is honed and shaped by the pressures we come under in life. Academic failure can be a difficult burden to bear, but so often it opens up new opportunities that hadn’t been considered before: work, travel, a reassessment of what really matters. As I have said a few times this morning, there are many routes to your end goal. Use this painful experience to consider something new and exciting that you would never have had the opportunity to do, had you got the three B grades you wanted.

Who knows, you might be sailing around the Med with Jeremy Clarkson next year.



*There are, of course, differences across ethnic groups and the results are more pronounced in some categories than others, with results amplified in situations of poverty. There are also sociological factors related to increased emphasis on female learning that can explain some of this trend. Regardless of explanation, the trend seems to persist.