Things really aint wot they used to be.

 

When I was at school the Sixth Form were exalted Goddesses, rarely seen, much admired heroines who occupied a different world, and certainly a different school, to we lower orders. 

The Angels of the VI  had a suite of rooms at the top of a turret, rumoured to be furnished with easy chairs, sofas and a working fireplace - and they definitely had a weekly coal allowance.  Male teachers called them 'Miss' and had they ever deigned to speak to us, we non 6th Formers had to call them Miss too and if anyone had dared to cheek them they could dish out not only lines like 5th Form Prefects, but detentions too.

 

They wore similarly coloured but very differently styled uniforms to the rest of us, mostly differentiated by what they didn't have to wear - gaberdine macs and grey knickers and socks for example - and they had 'special' scarves and fancy edging to their blazers which were of a better cut and fabric to the common herd.  They were also allowed to put their hair up instead of wearing plaits and could have their ears pierced all of which were forbidden on pain of a letter to Mum for the rest of us. 

 

VI Formers were never seen around the rest of the school except when some of the 7th termers (waiting for their Oxbridge admissions) took a small group for French conversation.  Unlike us, they could use the walled garden which was attached to one side of the Quad at lunchtimes and sit on benches by the fountains during free periods for al fresco revision.  While the rest of us traipsed the corridors moving to different rooms for each subject, they remained in their secluded hideaway and teachers went to them.

 

Compare that to the way that 6th Formers are treated now, trudging the corridors and being buffeted by uncouth Year 9s, dragging their day's worth of text books, rough books, homework, art projects, packed lunches and outdoor clothing from room to room where the whole lot has to be stuffed under the desk where feet should go.  No personal private and permanent desk, no private lockers, mass showers with the plebs, plastic 'easy' chairs in their squalid Common Rooms - when they're allowed such things.  No respect for their voluntary status, no respect for their near-adult age, no respect for them at all.

 

If they knew what post-compulsory schooling was like for their parents, the poor things would never believe that school could be like that.  It's small wonder that, rather than looking forward to reaping a few rewards for surviving GCSEs, today's post-16s barely manage to tolerate school.