The time has come to question the easy assumption made by politicians, particularly the present government, that education -- implicitly compulsory -- is, of itself, a good thing. Education, education, education has become more, more, more. Not more money (or not much), which would be welcome, but more inclusion, more targets, more qualifications. De facto an attempt is being made to raise the school leaving age to 18. But why should more education, irrespective of what it consists of, be thought desirable? It is not difficult to justify the requirement for all young people to be in school to age 11. Without a good grounding in literacy and numeracy, and without internalising the rules of interaction with others, no one is going to get as much out of life as they could. It is also reasonable to require young people, whether they want to or not, to experience the main means by which human beings have been able to make sense of the world. Life is ineffable. Different ways of establishing what we can accept as true, organised as subjects, give us a basis for coming to terms with our existence. A good case can be made for a national curriculum to, say, age 14. But thereafter? If early education means anything at all, young people should become increasingly clear about who they are, what they can do, and where they want to go. They should be able to choose on the basis of their abilities, interests and aspirations. If, after having engaged with a subject for long enough to have become familiar with what it has to offer, it does nothing for them, they should be able to give it up and do other things. Upper secondary education should be based on opportunities not impositions. Currently about 50,000 pupils a day truant. The government sees this as a massive problem. As part of its inclusion policy, it has recently pledged(1) more money for police sweeps to round them up. This comes on top of more attendance officers, learning mentors, pupil referral units, and `truancy buster' awards for schools that succeed in cutting truancy. It is being tough on truancy, but what of the causes of truancy? Surely, instead of trying to stamp it out, the government should be seeking to find out why so many young people are literally voting with their feet. The nub of the issue could be the heavy academic bias of the education system. Education in England (and the countries that followed us) has had a distinctive shape, highly selective and highly specialised. In the period after the Second World War, up to about a quarter of the age group was picked out by tests at 11 for a grammar school education. On the strength of tough examinations at ages 16 and 18, about a fifth of those progressed to university, where they were able to take a subject to its limits or prepare for a profession like medicine which is dependent on a high level of academic understanding. These arrangements worked wonderfully well for those selected and succeeding, since the best jobs and the leading positions opened up to them as graduates. But the other 95 per cent or so, cast aside at various points, had to sort out their lives as best they could. Successive governments have therefore been wholly right to seek to extend opportunity, but mainly wrong in the ways they have gone about it. The crucial mistake was perhaps that of Harold Wilson when as leader of the Labour Party in 1963 he promised `a grammar school education for all'. This deeply compromised Anthony Crosland's attempt, as Secretary of State in 1965, to heal the sharp 11-plus split by asking LEAs (he could only ask) to reorganise on comprehensive lines. The essential aim was further undermined by a failure to rethink the qualifications along with the schools. Once more practical education missed out as it had done following the 1944 Act when few technical schools were built. Comprehensive schools became diluted grammar schools. The motives were understandable. …
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