In Competition No. 2913 you were invited to submit an extract from the school report of a well-known author, living or dead.
Teachers often get it wrong, of course. Eight-year-old Charlotte Brontë was described by hers in less than glowing terms: she ‘writes indifferently’ and ‘knows nothing of grammar, geography, history or accomplishments’. In 1943 Beryl Bainbridge, aged nine, elicited the following tart assessment: ‘Though her written work is the product of an obviously lively imagination, it is a pity that her spelling derives from the same source.’ And according to P.G. Wodehouse’s 1899 report from Dulwich College, he had ‘the most distorted ideas about wit and humour’.
In a strong field, D.C.H. Cartwright’s cynical schoolboy William Thackeray stood out. I was also impressed by Anne Woolfe, John O’Byrne, Gerrard Portslade and C.J. Gleed. The prize-winners, printed below, pocket £30 apiece. Teacher’s pet Max Ross nabs the bonus fiver.
Marcel wastes all his time dreaming; time, I’m afraid, he will never get back. In History, Geography and Science lessons his eyes glaze over and he seems to enter a world of his own. Lengthy compositions are beyond him; he cannot elaborate and his responses to questions involve the bare minimum, though what he writes shows he is not unintelligent. How to make use of that intelligence is a challenge and I have frequently urged him to give detail, detail, detail but with no success. Marcel is never going to commit himself to any undertaking that calls for him to sacrifice time. He has been told that his dreaming will produce nothing; he is hardly likely to stun the world by contemplating the contents of a tea cup. When offered such advice he gives a wry smile as though a boy knows more than his tutor.
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