In 1956 I took an exam. The 11-plus. I passed it. This divided me from 93 per cent of my mostly working class chums. I got sent to the Grammar School. They got sent to Secondary Modern School, because they were only “good with their hands” and could never do cerebral exams. We clever clots did lots. This was in 1960. They were called O levels – for the top 20 per cent. Dull, yet grimly rigorous.
In English we were compelled to unleash drear essays about our holidays or texts by Dead White Blokes like Dryden. Honest. Mere information retrieval. I passed them. Any fule did. Then I passed lots more and became an English teacher and taught the same exam to the same top 20 per cent in 1967.
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