A class of their own

I never meant to conduct a social experiment. I never intended to undermine anyone’s confidence in their judgement. And I certainly never meant to arouse so much hostility. Yet by choosing to home-school my six-year-old this is precisely what I seemed to be doing.

Like many other desperate parents, I hadn’t got our first choice of primary state school (this year, just 68 per cent of parents in our Local Education Authority, Kensington and Chelsea, did). In fact, the only place for Izzy was at a primary across the river, which would take over an hour of travelling to get to.

So I decided to teach Izzy at home. To be more precise, I decided that my mother, then 72, would teach her. I would merely ferry the child to my mother’s flat, and provide textbooks and online courses.

A long tube and bus trip to some unknown school in an unfamiliar neighbourhood or a 20-minute walk to a beloved granny’s — the choice was easy.