I grew in the London Borough of Bexley and took the 11 plus in 1987. Bexley had grammar schools; the neighbouring borough of Greenwich did not. I went to Primary School in Greenwich, and everyone got to take the 11 Plus – but only the children who lived in Bexley would be guaranteed a grammar school place if we passed. Even back then there was talk of families who had two houses, or kids who would move boroughs for a year. I had classmates who were tutored for the 11 plus and friends who were determined to fail so that they wouldn’t be separated from their friends in secondary school.

My Mum had failed her 11 Plus but had passed the 13 Plus and gotten into a grammar school. She was determined that we would get a better education and whilst we weren’t tutored, we had verbal reasoning workbooks as extra homework to do.

I passed the 11 plus – I was told that my best friend and I got the highest scores in the borough. But only I got to go to grammar school as she lived in Greenwich. I was the only child from my primary school to go to my secondary school, which was incredibly isolating.

Overall my school experience was good – our school wasn’t as pretentious some of the other grammar schools, teaching was generally good and some teachers were excellent, and I think we took in a lot of students who got kicked out elsewhere – there were rumours always about schools ditching students who they didn’t think would get good GCSE results. We had one teacher who used to tell us that we were the top 25% and I used to wonder what the other 75% were getting in that case as some lessons were really poor.

I’ve never understood why a test at 11 should be allowed to dictate your whole future and create such a divide. Grammar schools need to be abolished.

I went to a grammar school back in the nineties. I had no issues with it. For the 2 years I was there, before leaving for another school, it was okay. Years later my son, who is vastly more intelligent than I was at his age, had suffered in the state school primaries due to racialized bias from teachers and classwide behavioural issues and unknowledgeable senco’s, but who had flourished for his last 2 years in a private school (for which we remortgaged our house).

Having put hard work and effort in to catch up with his extremely well-educated peers, despite his (late) autism and dyslexia diagnoses, he tried out for the same grammar I had once attended. But this time, wealthy parents who had had their children in the private school system since they were 3 years old, and who forked out thousands on extra tuition a year in addition to private school, and who could afford to continue to send their child to a private school, instead chose to take up grammar school places. Besides this, actual intelligence gets lost in the 11 plus system (I was for a long time an 11 plus tutor) and an outdated testing method which excused brilliant but not neurotypical Thinkers, meant the grammar school lost out on my son’s talent. Their loss.

I am a single mum living in Kent who has 2 daughters and who has been a teacher at a grammar school. The 11+ system permeates everything. It starts when your children are around 7 and slowly builds so you can’t escape it. It’s crushing and intense. Constant conversation of tutoring; the best tutors; the costs; the thoughts about what are you going to do if your child doesn’t pass grow bigger and bigger and by the time year 5 arrives the conversation is everywhere.

Being a single mum meant I couldn’t afford tutoring. It meant I had to listen to constant chat, that I was excluded from. The stress it caused me was horrible and sometimes I found myself not socialising with friends, who were all paying for tutoring for their children. Some even from year 2. I couldn’t join this race. I knew my kids were bright and very able and more importantly loved learning. But, still no guarantee they would pass. Anything can happen on the day.

One of the biggest problems is the disparity between the behaviour at grammars and non selective schools. And the impact this has on learning. This for me was the biggest concern. The choices if they don’t pass were poor – really poor, and the thought of my quiet, kind and reserved children been eaten alive and not being able to access learning was a huge concern. Not just for me, but for them too. The conversation is on the playground too. The girls were very aware of what was coming and what their choices were. They were just 10 years old. The pressure on their shoulders is insane. Tears been shed about what would happen. Sleepless nights. It’s inhumane.

Living in Kent and listening to our young people it is apparent that there is segregation. There is an us and them culture. Tribes are formed and there are feelings of difference and a sense of being less than if you don’t pass. You feel a failure.

I didn’t pass. I am a 50 year old woman and it is still with me today. That feeling of having failed has never left me. I didn’t want my girls to carry that feeling.

I enjoyed being a teacher at a grammar school, but I do not agree with it. However, I chose to work in one because I wanted to teach and not spend the majority of my time managing behaviour. However, the elitism is palpable and unhealthy. Grammar schools breed inherent inequality, and non selective schools breed a strong sense of failure. It is backward thinking.

I passed the test in 1966. Only 9 out of 90 pupils in the school I was in passed. I was bullied afterwards by children at the primary school because I had only moved into the area in October the preceding year, and in their view I had stolen a place from a girl who was expected to pass.

At the grammar later I felt socially excluded – only 2 other pupils from my previous school whom I didn’t know well anyhow as I’d only known them 10 months. A particular school in the “posh” part of town sent 50% of its pupils by intensive coaching – a lot of these girls ended up in the lowest stream in the end, it was quite noticeable.

There was a uniform but it was easy to see who was poor and who was rich – rich girls went to an independent outfitters where the clothes were of better materials and better cut, the average person went to the Co-op where the clothes were distinctly inferior. The poor got hand me downs or tried to make it themselves – 6 gore skirt anyone?

I did get excellent A levels but due to total lack of career advice, and pressure to go to University, I studied biology at a Russell Group university which led nowhere.

(I would have been much better off IMO training as a radiographer or physiotherapist or similar, even nursing, but I was steered away from such practical choices as in those days they did not involve a University course and so I would not garner kudos for the school.

I am a 70 years old who passed the 11+ and went to grammar school in a very affluent area. I felt like a fish out of water. I was constantly reminded that my class mates and myself may have had the skills to pass that ridiculous test but in every other aspect of our lives we were so different. I was even told to choose a red brick rather than established university as that was more appropriate for someone from my background. I left that school lacking confidence and constantly feeling I needed to prove myself. I recently revisited the school and was struck by the smug attitude of both staff and pupils. The sense of entitlement to facilities that I have never seen in any comprehensive school was powerful. All the grammar school system does is increase the class divide

I attended a grammar school in the 1970’s having transferred from an area where nearly every child attended the local excellent comprehensive. One of the most unsettling discoveries on joining the grammar was that I was now expected to consider myself ‘above’ the local children who attended the secondary modern school. This faux elitism was profoundly unfair and in reality laughably tenuous. There was little discernible difference in the abilities of the children, since everyone was subjected to a grading anyway.

Any system which grades a child as a failure at the age of 11 is fundamentally flawed. It should have no place in a modern democracy.

I taught for 22 years and witnessed how the system is rigged to favour those children whose parents can afford extra tuition. If a child needs extra support to pass an exam, how can a place at an institution which is supposedly only for the ‘brightest’ be justified?

As to elitism, my family moved abroad and I then attended a public school. It was drummed into us at that particular school that we were never to consider ourselves ‘better’ than anyone else and the emphasis was on contributing to society and an awareness that good fortune is not evenly spread.

Grammar schools are deeply divisive and do nothing to improve the education of the vast majority of children. Funding should be concentrated on improving all schools, not some artificial construct parading as route to social mobility.

We spoke to numerous parents when picking up our child after the exam. Not one of the was from the local area with some having travelled many miles. We live in the area but it is highly unlikely our son will pass and get in. The undue stress this causes to a child is absolutely unnecessary. If all the schools were at the same level then this wouldn’t be an issue and all kids would get a great education in their local area. I think the sick on the pavement outside of the school before the exam says it all.

We had two children and we got a tutor, worked with our kids on previous tests, downloaded tests and comments from the Internet – they passed.

Our next door neighbours allowed their children to take their own chances – they failed.

What a nasty, divisive, small-minded test of parenting – I’m not proud of what we did but it was the society we lived in – the sooner the 11+ and Grammar schools are consigned to the same dustbin as putting children up chimneys, rickets and smallpox the better.

I failed the 11 plus at the interview stage – I was borderline. Being called into a small room to be asked seemingly random questions by strange adults in order to decide if i went to grammar school or not at the age of 10 was humiliating and terrifying. Why doesn’t the train from Haslemere go through Hindhead on the way to Liphook ? I said because it isn’t on the way, but they informed me that it was because Hindhead is on a hill, but OBVIOUSLY you wouldn’t take the train all the way up the hill to Hindhead from Haslemere because the people on the train would be furious if you did that. Idiots! Then I admitted that I didn’t go to the library as often as I would like which obviously marked me down, but I was from an evangelical working class family which only had books on the Bible at home, and who stopped me from reading anything that wasn’t ‘edifying’ so the fact that I went to the library independently at all would have been pretty surprising if they had known anything at all about me. The fact that I can recount these questions, and my answers, and my shame at the realisation of having said the wrong thing 53 years after the event gives you some sense of the enormity of it. I loved primary school: I can still see and smell the papier mache model of Portland, Chesil Beach and Lulworth Cove that we made after the trip to Lyme Regis which changed me forever (I sat on my suitcase when I got home and refused to unpack, and I sit on the cliff above Durdle Door now as I write this); I can remember the story I used to write in creative writing that went on and on (I refused to start a new one) about a hidden world up on Blackdown Common where dinosaurs roamed which was so real I was determined to get all my friends to come down to Haslemere so I could take them to see it; I remember the beauty and wonder of the three dimensional shapes we made in maths and hung in the school hall; and the full size model we made of the lunar landing module in science. Every subject was a treasure store of exciting and wonderful knowledge and experiences. So … then to secondary school. All my friends went to grammar school, and I had none from that moment on until I got to university (up until then I had regularly gone to stay the night at my friends Charles’ and Julian’s houses – I never did that again). I can’t recall a single moment of the joy of education from that moment, until I finally refound my love of English through Miss Blewett in the 4th form, (although the tedium and stupidity of woodwork and metalwork stays with me). I sat English O level a year early, and in the mocks I got a higher mark than anyone in the year above me. Clearly there was no question about me not going to sixth form where I was surrounded by grammar school and private school kids whose self confidence reinforced the sense of my failure and deep shame of having spent five years in what felt like a penitentiary. I got into my first choice: Leeds University, to do English Literature, just, but I suffered deeply from imposter syndrome and when I went back to the campus for the first time about 40 years later I wept and wept for the time I wasted there, too terrified to speak in a seminar, too easily persuaded that getting drunk and stoned was a more fitting culmination to my educational journey. I was very nearly thrown out in the third year, and I did the very least I could to be allowed to take finals – inevitably a 2.2. Failing the 11 plus shaped my whole experience of education, but more significantly it turned the happy, sociable, lover of learning at 10 years old into the stereotypically teengage misfit on steriods, chronically unable to communicate with parents or peers, the perfect prey for the local paedophile to exploit. I have worked for 20 years in widening participation, helping young working class people see the opportunities that higher education can offer. I wonder if it’s a form of working my educational experience out, it is certainly a way of ensuring that others with the potential to benefit from higher education will be able to make the most of it, and a desire that they can have the positive experience of learning that I didn’t have. Above all I tell young people whenever I get the chance that they are unique and special, and that there is a whole world of opportunity out there available to them if they say yes to it. I don’t remember anyone ever saying that to me.

My children are very intelligent, fantastic at science, art, history and can blow you away with their self-learned knowledge. But because they struggle with rote academia and learn differently (can’t remember times tables but then can do incredibly complicated mental maths when they want to) they were seen as failures by their mainstream schools and there is no way they would be put forward for the 11+, despite over approximately half of NASA scientists being dyslexic. Secondary school would not allow them to study the subjects they were interested in. They managed to get into University by a more convoluted route, and University enables them and supports and understands their SEN’s unlike the rest of the education system, which treated them either as difficult, stupid or an effort to provide for. Instead of grammar schools we need a complete rethink of our education system because it is breaking children’s confidence and not recognising their strengths.

I passed the 11 plus in 1958 and went on to graduate in economics. I was part of a 5% minority of children from poor families that got to grammar school. 95% of poorer children went to secondary moderns. After my separation from her mother my daughter wanted to come and live with me and I made sure she could go to a grammar school because I lived in Kent. Thanks to my education I was able to follow a career in banking and become socially mobile. I now recognise that I could have achieved all this in a less selective system. So could my daughter who is now a Senior Lecturer at a university. Grammar schools are for upper middle-class kids who go to prep schools so that they can avoid private school fees. Grammar schools are not the future. It´s worth saying that I did not have to pay fees at university, but I did have a means tested grant for living expenses. I believe every young person has the right to an education like mine.

I was selected for Weymouth Grammar School in 1966, it was a large, newly built school with excellent facilities. But in retrospect it was clear that the academic approach did not work for me. I used to daydream at the back of the class about rocket-packs and other inventions. I got four poor ‘;O’ levels, and was allowed to continue to ‘A’ levels because they could see i had some useful skills. The recommendation was that i should study Pure Maths, Applied Maths, and Physics, the idea probably being that total saturation would cure my problem with academic learning. It didn’t work, and i remember the maths teacher handing out the results of the Pure Maths ‘mock exam’; “Brooks, at least you got your name right”. I left school without an A level necessary to proceed to some sort of engineering course, and in the ‘three day week’ of 1973 i found work making motorcycle fairings out if glassfibre. I have since discovered that the teaching style that works for me is ‘project based’ learning, that if you need to use pure maths to solve a problem in an engaging project then you will work at it. The key is current relevance, not jumping through hoops to notch up qualifications. I am from a relatively privileged middle class family, and i wonder if that influenced my selection for Grammar School. I can see now that it is both unjust, and potentially damaging, to select children at the age of 11 for Grammar School education. Comprehensive Schools allow skills and aptitudes to develop as the child develops in maturity and agency.

I remember, at the age of 10, being asked by a supply teacher whether I were sitting the 11+, meant as a compliment I think, but sounding rather snobby at the same time. That was the first time I’d heard of it.

I never did sit the 11+ nor study it’s material, and the only ‘pressures’ I faced at that age was sitting the advanced SAT paper for Maths. The headteacher suggested to me to approach the paper out of curiosity rather than expecting to attain a higher grade and I remember whilst sitting it being really stretched and figuring things out during the paper which led to me running out of time. The paper itself showed me there was much more to the subject, it wasn’t about the grade for the headmaster, nor the preparation for the paper, he knew I could have been trained to pass it, for him, and me it was about discovery, an experiment, which led to a persistent pursuit of mathematical concepts that remained with me into adulthood.

Coming from a working class background, my dad was of the belief that I go to the local school and if I do well, it’s mostly down to my own gifts of memory, creativity and logic, enhanced by teacher stimulating any desire to learn as most teachers tend to do.

So that’s exactly what happened, the school I attended was in the bottom percentiles in league tables for the area, but I did well in terms of grade attainment. I’m socially more aware of the difficulties that peers face, but those issues never hampered my own ability to learn. What I’ve found later in life though is that it is the middle classes’ attitudes to comprehensives that prejudice decisions about me and my abilities and there are simply ideological disagreements on these matters and I’m usually outnumbered. For me social mobility has come at a cost, it’s one of a certain kind of loneliness being surrounded by people who know nothing of the struggles and distractions that poorer people face.

There are some that wish to solve this by preventing people like me climb the social ladder, to retain a justification for why some ‘deserve’ things others do not.

This is just a mask for not wanting to accept that talents and skills permeate all social stratas and aren’t distributed just to the rich. What is siphoned off by the rich are the resources and this leads to a segregation that ultimately harms the collective shared capital of education.

Despite, gaining a 2:1 in my thirties and a post grad qualification, I still feel deep down I’m not good enough. The secondary modern school I went to in the seventies never mentioned university and we were taken on tours of local factories for our careers advice. The emphasis was on preparing us for work, these factories all closed in the eighties. Thankfully, at that time, adult education was still funded and I worked hard at evening classes to leave behind the ‘certificates of secondary education’ I was awarded in 1976, (worthless and stigmatising). As long as the grammar school system exists

Being one of a handful of genuinely ‘working class’ pupils at grammar school made me feel like I didn’t ‘belong’ and wasn’t good enough, from age 11. The middle class and wealthy kids had confidence, life experiences (such as regular holidays and activities), and supportive parents who knew and understood many social expectations of which my parents had no view. I could tell there was a ‘two-tier’ approach from the teachers; it was as if they could sense those of us who were ‘imposters’ and I never received the encouragement or pastoral support from my grammar school that I needed. The system worked only for those who were already primed with middle class norms and expectations. I started year 7 a confident and capable child and within months felt inferior, leaving school at age 18 with no real ambitions or plan because I believed that university wasn’t really for girls like me. It took me 20 years to win back the confidence and sense of belonging that my 11-year-old self had. I am a member of Mensa and have managed a decent career, but since grammar school I had always felt ‘averagely’ smart and overly self-conscious about my background and my accent. This absolutely came from spending seven formative years being the odd one out for having no money, cheap clothes, no hobbies, no day trips or holidays, and having to work almost full time from age 16 to contribute at home. I moved out of a grammar area after my son was born so he could avoid the whole damaging system.

My son is August born, so had turned 10 about 6 weeks before he took the 11+. He had received tuition for around 18 months prior as is the norm for most kids in our area (Trafford). It was a topic of discussion in the playground amongst parents since they were in Reception class with everyone saying how you ‘need’ to get a tutor from Year 4/5.

My son was considered really bright by his junior school and was more or less expected to pass. He didn’t. He failed by around 5 marks and went to the local ‘High School’. Some of his friends passed and others also failed narrowly. This led to some parents seeking private fee paying schools because the ‘High School’ was either not considered good enough or they thought their child would not be a good fit.

A few years later it turned out my son is actually dyslexic, with slow processing speed being the main feature for him and entitling him to extra time in exams. Now, imagine if he’d got that in the 11+, but apparently even if he had a diagnosis that would not have allowed him any reasonable adjustments in 11+ which would be considered discriminatory in any other exam or assessment.

Grammar schools are considered ‘better’ because they get better results, but this is largely because they cream off the most academically able students, take fewer SEN and deprived kids, and hot-house them through exams. The teachers at my son’s high school are just as good if not better and I find I pretty insulting that my son would be labelled by some as ‘not academic’ and therefore belongs in a non-academic school. He got great GCSEs and is starting at University next week.

I was forced to take the 11+ 40 years ago, both my sisters had gone to the grammar school and the pressure for me to get a place there was overwhelming and really stressful. I passed and went to a school where I received a very average education and always felt like the stupid kid there – It’s a myth that grammar schools offer a better education for bright kids – they will always look good on the league tables because they cream off the most academically able. My children go to the local comprehensive and receive an exceptional education with dedicated teachers who are able to teach to all abilities, we should be focusing on these schools rather than diverting attention and funding to grammar schools that are wholly unnecessary

The 11+ exam puts an inordinate amount of pressure on families with multiple children. As parents who prepared our children for the 11+ independently, we found ourselves in the simply awful position of having three children pass the exam and one not. Despite all our efforts to boost the ‘comprehensive’ child’s confidence and self-esteem, she spent her entire high school years feeling inferior to her siblings. Had I known this would be the outcome, I never would have gone near the grammar school system, even though it has been positive for our attending children. This country should abolish grammar and private schools and divert investment into creating schools that are well-resourced and truly comprehensive, so that children don’t end up with lifelong low self esteem and damaged family relationships for the sake of one inane exam that fundamentally doesn’t prove anything.

This is a story from nearly 60 years ago, I hope it is acceptable here. My brother and I both took the 11+, two years apart. My brother passed after an interview. I later flew through my exam. I fared pretty well at grammar school, although not an intellectual I enjoyed most of the subjects and did reasonably well at O and A level. I was however, owing to the expectations placed on grammar school students, guided into a degree course to which I really was not suited. My brother however was never suited to the more academic approach of the grammar school. He has always been more practically minded. He struggled and came out with poor results. I do believe that if there had not been selection, had we been allowed to explore and improve our talents we would both have benefitted in our different ways.

I have three boys two passed and one failed (the one most likely to pass). EVERYONE pays a fortune in tuition. So many first went to prep school. The wealth of the parents and hence the pupils at grammar schools is frightening. My boys at grammar school felt very poor (they are NOT). The battle to maintain a child’s confidence who fails is soul destroying. We never liked them for the two that passed but I didn’t feel I could pass my ideology onto my children. Grammar schools (at least in Amersham) so not allow social mobility. So much more I could say but even writing this makes me angry. Friendships split at such a young age…