Opinion

William Scholes: Sinn Féin and DUP failed transfer test during years of Stormont carve-up

William Scholes

William Scholes

William has worked at The Irish News since 2002. His areas of interest include religion and motoring.

The transfer test system might be a shambles but at least they now play the Foo Fighters in school gyms
The transfer test system might be a shambles but at least they now play the Foo Fighters in school gyms The transfer test system might be a shambles but at least they now play the Foo Fighters in school gyms

WHEN I was in primary school, my favourite TV programmes included the wildlife shows Animal Magic and The Really Wild Show.

You may remember them, too. These were more innocent times, before children fell victim to social media and Fortnite obsessions.

Johnny Morris doing funny voices over footage of baby elephants sliding down a river bank was considered cutting-edge, and there was a real sense of awe watching Terry Nutkins swim with sea lions. They don't make 'em like that any more...

The bit I really looked forward to, however, was when we got to see whether a squirrel could navigate its way through a labyrinth of transparent pipes, dead ends and false trails, to the prize of some nuts.

Watching the eager little squirrel scurry around used to make me laugh when I was seven or eight, but today, three decades on, I also feel a little sad for its plight.

Who among us staring at middle age can't identify with the frustration, crushed aspirations and sorrow of the squirrel dumped to the ground before reaching the acorns of its dreams?

In particular, the parenting journey routinely leaves me feeling like a squirrel navigating his way through a maze looking for nuts.

The latest hurdle before us is the invidious process of transferring from primary to big school, which has been heralded by the school open days filling up the kitchen calendar.

We did our first open day last Saturday, another last night and have a choice of two to attend tomorrow. Others are pencilled in for later in the month.

Thus far, it has been a surreal experience. It is amplified by an unavoidable feeling that our little nine-year-old P6 pupil is too, well, young to be entering the maelstrom of study and exams that will all-too-soon lead to - however you look at it - an important new chapter in his life.

The surrealism of Saturday's excursion is unlikely to be surpassed, however, because it saw us visit the grammar school I myself attended.

At times, it felt like an out-of-body experience. Everything was smaller than I remembered. Or maybe I am just bigger; time plays tricks...

Some rooms didn't look like they had seen fresh paint since I left, while others dazzled with their high-tech shininess.

I doubt whether even Bill Gates had heard of 3D printers when I was still at school, yet one was quietly whirring away in a classroom where a hacksaw was just about the most advanced piece of equipment we got to wield in my time.

The parenting journey routinely leaves me feeling like a squirrel navigating his way through a maze looking for nuts. The latest hurdle before us is the invidious process of transferring from primary to big school

Music and sport are two of our son's big interests. He was blown away by the quality and breadth of the performances from the orchestra and jazz band. It was hard not to be, in fairness.

There is now a proper gym, too. When we looked in at it, the background music was being provided by the Foo Fighters - over speakers, rather than in the flesh, you understand.

The Foo Fighters also happen to be one of our son's favourite bands; further serendipity was found in history, where his devotion to Horrible Histories will apparently dovetail with the Battle of Hastings and the year eight curriculum.

It was a similar story elsewhere. First year Latin now seems to involve less time conjugating verbs than it does exploring tales from classical mythology; this is right up my son's via.

The morning brought back a range of memories, including the one-on-one interview with the principal that prospective pupils had to go through.

I can vividly remember a black gown-clad figure, brobdingnagian to primary school-sized me, leaning across a vast expanse of desk with a novel in his hand, from which I had to read aloud and then discuss.

I'll never forget the book - one of CS Forester's Hornblower stories - nor the questions.

What is a 'chock' - crafty old Hornblower was using one to stop a cannon from blasting across the deck when it fired - and what other word sounds the same but means something different?

And so it continued. In hindsight, neither it nor the 11-plus did me, as they say, any harm.

There are clearly wider issues around the role of selection, academic or otherwise, in the transfer of pupils from primary to secondary-level schools.

But it is equally clear that the current system, bestowed upon pupils, parents and teachers by Sinn Féin and consolidated throughout that party's 10-year carve-up at Stormont with the DUP, is one of devolution's towering failures.