Is boarding school cruel?

Yes

Alex Renton

Last week some 20,000 children under the age of 14 packed their bags to return to boarding school for the summer term: a migration unique in anthropology. The habit was born of necessity for the rural gentry in the 18th century, and it became customary for the wealthy and aspirational in the 19th century. But what possible need for boarding is there in the 21st?

Some parents say they have no choice. ‘She literally made me do it,’ one mother told me of her eight-year-old, residing at a very smart prep in the Midlands. ‘I was in bits. Still am. But she’d read Harry Potter and Malory Towers and her mind was made up.’ I pointed out that neither J.K. Rowling nor Enid Blyton had gone to boarding school, and wondered gently what might happen when her daughter discovered that her wizard’s wand didn’t function and that boarding wasn’t a ten-week sleepover party at Alton Towers. Her mother laughed: ‘Not an issue. She just adores it. Friends galore. We just about had to drag her home at half-term.’

I am glad for both of them, but not convinced. Children tend to tell parents what they want to hear — they like to protect us from the nasty realities. A child informed that he or she should adore boarding school, or that Mummy and Daddy scrimped and saved for their great adventure, is a child with a burden. To admit life at school isn’t glorious is to fail, to be unworthy. I never told my parents how miserable I was at my prep school, at eight or at 13. I was ashamed; I thought they might be hurt — and besides, the cane-happy headmaster had told us not to sneak. Caning was banned 20 years ago, but the pressures on children to say the required thing are still strong, at home and at school.