I will always be grateful for the support my school gave me.
Standing on the Manchester airport tarmac, waiting to jet off to Naples on a school trip at the age of 12 is a moment I’ll never forget.
Hiking Mount Vesuvius, gorging on Neapolitan pizzas and guzzling some of the best gelato in the world was all thanks to the generosity of the private school I attended.
I grew up in one of the most deprived areas of Yorkshire – a town called Frizinghall, just outside of Bradford City Centre. Quite ironically, the city’s only private secondary school, Bradford Grammar School, is in this town.
The colossal size of this establishment made it seem like Yorkshire’s answer to Hogwarts. Children from the wealthy suburbs of Bradford and Leeds would hop off the trains or get dropped off in Range Rovers by their mothers.
It never really seemed like the place for an inner-city boy like me.
But my parents had a different plan for me. They didn’t want to consign me to the bottom of the social mobility ladder.
My mother had done a lot of research on Bradford Grammar School. She knew that the family would never be able to afford the annual fees, starting from £10,000, but she discovered that the school had a bursary scheme where a proportion of this would be covered.
From the age of seven, my weekends consisted of tutoring sessions to prepare me for the entrance examination that I sat, aged 11. After taking two exams and having an interview, I defied the odds and was offered a place with the school covering 70% of my fees.
I was delighted, but also filled with dread about whether I would fit in with everyone else at this prestigious establishment.
I think it’s safe to say that attending a local primary school, where over most of the inner-city kids qualified for free meals, did not prepare me for the social interactions with suburbanites.
Nevertheless, the school was able to foster a strong Northern community spirit that united all pupils regardless of our backgrounds.
But the opportunities afforded to me at this school almost certainly changed the trajectory of my life.
Trips abroad to Iceland, Italy and the USA; career talks from senior civil servants; networking events with legal professionals, and Oxbridge interview practice. These are just some of the opportunities I was lucky enough to take up.
You might be thinking that, surely, a private school boy who benefitted from all of this would oppose Labour’s plans to impose a standard 20% VAT levy on school fees to pay for more state school teachers.
However, it’s my personal journey that explains why I am so vehemently supportive of Labour’s plan to rinse private schools.
The kind of opportunities that I seized should be accessible for everyone, and not just for a small group of pupils who have their parents pay their way to the top and secure a significant head start in life.
And the only way to do that is to tax this country’s richest families.
What particularly drives my support for Labour’s suggested policy is my lived experience of attending a private school that is bleakly located in one of the most impoverished neighbourhoods in the UK.
I spent my education surrounded by failing state schools that were struggling to stay open after experiencing chronic underfunding. I couldn’t think of a better representation of the systemic inequalities in the British education system.
At lunchtime, I used to hang out with students from the state school next door. The tales they would tell of their school literally crumbling made it feel like we were living in a parallel universe.
While I was jetting off to North America, they were lucky to have any school trips. I knew I had to take the opportunities that I was so lucky to be gifted but at the same time I was angry at how the educational system had let down my peers.
How could I oppose a policy that would bring in £1.5bn of funding to public services that this country desperately needs right now?
Labour suggests that this funding will be invested in state education – paying for 6,500 extra teachers.
‘This funding will also help pay for mental health support staff in every school, working to boost the wellbeing of young people, many of whom are still suffering the effects of lockdown,’ Labour has said. How can you argue with that?
I will always be grateful for the support my school gave me. The helpful career advice from alumni and support with personal statements from experienced teachers was invaluable.
It’s the reason why I’m about to graduate from one of the best universities in the world – the London School of Economics and Political Science.
It’s also why I have plans to invest in a future career in policymaking to ensure that people from my community have the opportunity to climb the social mobility ladder that has been torn down by this current government.
However, I was disappointed to see my former headteacher, Dr Simon Hinchliffe, rail against Labour’s plans for a VAT levy.
He said that it was ‘deeply concerning from a regional perspective’.
‘We are in an inner-city location in a city that is historically underfunded and underserved and is struggling in many economic regards,’ he said.
Adding: ‘We really, really know our parents and I don’t think many of them will be able to afford the inevitable rising fees.’
At the same time, the school redeveloped its sports facilities – including eight outdoor cricket lanes – in a £4m project. So, I find it hard to believe that these institutions couldn’t absorb some of the cost themselves.
Private schools have been on a crusade in the press to try to whip up some sympathy by stating that Labour’s plan could price out middle class students. Yet again, it’s difficult for me to shed any tears when private schools themselves have increased fees by a whopping 55% since 2003.
Receiving a bursary to attend a private school was a tremendous privilege that opened up numerous opportunities for which I am deeply thankful.
However, given the decline in public services, it’s impossible to justify the VAT exemption for any longer.
In the likely event of the Labour Party getting into power, they are going to have to bite the bullet and pay up – just like the rest of us.
Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing jess.austin@metro.co.uk.
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