I'll start with a confession - I don't know an awful lot about education policy. I've not produced and raised children, I've never been a local councillor, or a school governor, in fact, it would be fair to say that I've had no contact with schools since I left Kingsbury High School in 1983, before some of you were born. So, why take a stance, you might ask?
Perhaps the place where I live might be a clue. I live in a small village, population about 200, without a school of any kind. The children of the village ride buses, or are driven by their parents, to neighbouring villages, or to Stowmarket, our nearest town.
The free schools movement, led by the likes of Toby Young, are keen to encourage communities to form their own schools, with their own specialisms, ethos and teaching methods. The response of the teaching unions and the political left, by no means mutually exclusive, has been to throw their hands up in horror at this attempt to break down the concept of a good education for all, seemingly oblivious to the fact that not all children actually do get a good education.
For the most part, Toby and his friends are middle-class, ambitious and aspirational, and there is nothing wrong with these things. Some, although not all of them, want the best for their children, regardless of the impact on other children, whereas others want the freedom to teach their children what they believe to be best for their development. The catch is, their pitch is all about choice.
In urban areas, or decent-sized towns, the concept of choice in education is a significant one. When I was in primary school in north-west London, I attended the nearest school to my home, Roe Green. I could, had my parents been so inclined, have attended Oliver Goldsmith, Kingsbury Green or Fryent, all within a mile or so, or St Robert Southwell had my Catholic father wanted to convince the priests back home of his devotion to his faith. Had I been Jewish, Mount Stewart wasn't that far away either. And, before long, Islamia Primary School, Britain's first Islamic faith school, opened in the borough.
Each of the schools had its strengths and weaknesses, but as suburban schools in nice areas, they tended to produce more than their share of bright, well-adjusted kids with a better than average chance of getting into university.
And the problem with free schools in urban areas is that choice already exists, whereas one suspects that some of their enthusiastic supporters are keen to raise the drawbridge and exclude those children who might 'lower the tone'. Already, as a parent, you can get involved in your local school, become a governor, influence the way it is run, and all within the current regime. But it might be a bit too democratic for some people's taste.
But here's the twist. There are places where choice in education is much less in evidence, places where, in order to exercise real choice, your children might not have to travel an extra 400 yards, or even a mile, but five. Those places are our rural communities, especially the villages. Some villages, like mine, don't have a school, or have a school threatened with closure because of its small size.
For those communities, where the school is part of the heartbeat of daily life, a free school offers an escape from the grind of driving your children seven miles there, and seven miles back, making earning a living that bit easier. Here in Suffolk, where the County Council have decided that middle schools are too difficult to keep going, local communities might well take the free school route to keep what they have and treasure.
So, my urban dwelling friends, oppose free schools if you must. But remember, one person's threat is another's opportunity, and in an increasingly urban-dominated policy-making environment, we forget our rural districts at our peril.
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