Grammar School

I survived the years at my Junior school despite the uniformed start.

The years dragged by and I found myself in my last year there and sitting the 11+ exam along with my classmates.

 I tried hard at school and particularly enjoyed English though struggled with Maths.

I never stood out from the rest as I never put my hand up to answer questions and shine, as ever I preferred to fade into the background.

When the results came in there were 5 or 6 pupils who had done well and qualified for a place at the local Grammar school.

Two of which were girls and imagine the shock when I was one of them. My parents were astonished and so was I. It almost wrong footed my Mother as she calculated the damage of my moment in the spotlight but she quickly warmed to the idea of bragging rights.

She told anyone and everyone who she could catch hold of, often more than once.

So for a short while I was the golden girl.

Any reservations I had I kept quiet about while she rode the wave of my success. I was worried about this new school. I imagined all the girls to come from posh homes, be both snooty and smart, I felt I had `prey` written all over me, then there was the work. Despite my glowing results I had no faith in myself and knew neither of my parents would be up to solving my homework problems, even if my dad was quite bright he was no academic. Then there was the bus ride to town and then either another bus or a long walk to the school. Could I handle all of those challenges and worst still what if I failed.

 Deep inside though there was a glimmer of hope, what if this was the door of opportunity waiting to open up to me, perhaps I would excel, be outstanding at English and have some glittering literary career, making my fortune and buying my parents a house in the Outer Hebrides while I moved to a cottage in Cornwall, yes that should be far enough away......

What I really really needed at that point was lots of encouragement and some solid, steadfast, ongoing support.

I got neither.

Gradually the mood towards my small triumph changed. When the novelty of spreading the news wore of it dawned on my Mother that me and my education were going to be quite a big deal and require time and effort from them as well as me, money too, for the long and comprehensive list of uniform, gym kit, bag and equipment and that was before the cost of travel and school trips had been considered. The uniform policy was strict and had to be purchased from an approved list of shops. Yes it was going to take time, effort, planning and money on their part to even get me there with all I needed on the first day. And inconvenience and expense for `Dear little Amanda` was unheard of. I would be the star of the show  and that was never going to happen.

She became sullen and short with me and we had heated family discussions and indignant rants about all these demands this new school was presenting them with.

It went something like this...

I don`t know where we`re going to find the bloody bus-fare from, I can`t pay for 2 buses each way, you`ll have to walk when you get to town. I don`t even know where this shop is they are on about for the blazer, Oh my God you`ve got to have 2 different PE kits, Christ !!

And music, don`t think we`ve got the money to be buying instruments and the like.

 Do you think you`ll cope with all that travel, it`ll be a long day, I don`t know how I`m going to manage here when I`m not very well, I`ll still need some help you know, I bet the work will be hard and you`ll have no one to ask cause there`s hardly any one else we know who`s going, you won`t know anybody, Av, you seen this bloody equipment list, I hope you`re going to try an mix a bit, you know how shy you are...

She worked herself up from indignation through to furious which slowly dissolved into mild hysteria. My Father watched passively on, I suspect being fully aware she was trying to sabotage my chance at bettering myself and not finding the courage to step in and save the day, which could risk a complete melt down where she may be so inconsolable he may not even be able to leave the house to get to work let alone go shopping with a wad of cash to be spent on `Dear little Amanda`. So not for the first time or the last he had a choice, to meet her expectations of him or put my well being first. As always he chose her.

He knew what she needed to hear, so did I...

"Amanda"..he said, both weary and stern "Don`t you think you`d be better off going to the Comprehensive with the other`s, you could walk it easily and it would be a lot less worry for your Mother and Me"

And in that moment the decision was made. 

Her hysteria had been mildly contagious and had served to intensify all the seeds of doubt I had about this big new adventure at the Grammar school and in a way I was a little relieved as my first consideration was to keep my Mother at a manageable level of evil, going to that school would not have been conducive to that and the little voice that quietly 
whispered......what about your literary career.... I chose to ignore.

Some 20 years on,

 at a particularly difficult time, during a tense phone conversation I told him quietly

"The thing is Dad, Mom has always been your priority" 

"And WHY shouldn`t she be" he snapped back...

My heart whispered...because you are a Father as well as a Husband....

because you have a child as well as a wife...

in reality I chose not to reply....what was the point....