Autumn term 2011

Fees are causing a strain for many families. Our Rogue Parent is one of them and can see the nervousness in the eyes of her fellows in the school playground. How will she cope?

No parent likes paying school fees: and I can hold my hand up and say, without equivocation, I am of that ilk. In fact, dare I say it, I have been known to be a trifle tardy in payment of said fees, especially now that have to I fork out eye-watering sums for the privilege of sending both boys to an independent school.

It’s not that I can’t pay the bills, it’s just that I would prefer to put off the moment juste for as long as possible, especially after a long summer of trying to keep two overactive boys amused without an au pair, following the loss of child benefit, personal allowances and a crippling 50 per cent tax bill.

Tough times
But the days of late payment are coming swiftly to an end, if rumours are to be believed. It transpires that the bursar has actually bankrupted a parent for not paying their school fees. Quite how the parent got away with non-payment for over three years is beyond me: all I can imagine is that either the child was exceedingly talented at sport or else was headed for Oxbridge and thus brought huge kudos to the school.

Now, of course, the child has left the school and the Great Man has obviously withdrawn his favour. It seems that the school has employed a debt agency to recoup unpaid fees rather than tried to collect late payments through the small claims court, as it is deemed too time-consuming and expensive in these ever cash-straightened times.
Looking around the car park on the first day of term, I note that other parents are looking as equally uncomfortable as me. For some reason, there are men in dark glasses and one cannot help but think they must be debt collectors assessing the value of one’s car in advance of a letter from the school bursar. However, it is far more likely that these are the unfortunates who have been laid off over the summer, not wishing to reveal their identity, but there is still a palatable sense of fear.

Do my duty
So, on a hasty visit to the accounts department to do my fiscal duty by the school, I note a headline on the front page of one of the many financial magazines littered about for parental edification. It says that the total level of unpaid school fees, owed by recession-hit parents, was thought to be more than £140 million in 2010 with the average owing each school in the region of £120,000.

In the light of this, I suppose I cannot fault the Great Man’s foresight nor, I suspect, in his clever use of spin and rumour-mongering, for, if my reaction is anything to go by, he will have all of this term’s school fees paid in, in record time.

Summer term 2011

There is more than the usual consternation among the Car Park Gossipers about the rumour that the bursar wants the school to apply for academy status, to avoid having to pass the public benefit test for charitable independent schools to retain their tax-free status.

One suspects, because it is mere rumour and speculation, that this is spin emanating from the Great Man himself, who is trying to push through a raft of innovative schemes to ensure the school’s continued viability – at least that is what it says in the round-robin email sent out earlier this week – in the face of growing parental concern over increases in school fees via the back door through a number of bursaries.

Limber up
It has been suggested that parents should join the school fitness club and have access to the swimming pool and games facilities for a nominal sum, yet to be decided, which could be paid by direct debit on a monthly basis.

There will be a flood of enquiries from the Ladies Who Lunch as there are no gyms in the immediate area nor are there many nine-hole golf courses for which one does not have to pay through the nose. Added to that, there are always the services of the recently divorced Mr French, head of games, who we hear will take on private clients in out-of-school hours.

Dig for victory
Other exciting proposals include hiving off a large portion of the formal school grounds and turning them into allotments.

One would like to think this is all part of an eco-friendly strategy for the school, but it is more likely to do with the fact that the youngest groundsman is approaching retirement age, along with his trusty ride-on lawnmower, and the cost of replacing one or both is now considered a luxury.

Auf wiedersehen, pet
It seems that there is no end of schemes to ensure the school’s viability. Only yesterday I was handed a leaflet asking whether I would consider burying my beloved pet in the magnificent grounds and gardens of the school. Also, would I like to acquire a lasting memorial in the form of a plaque on a bench in one of the many lovely walks in the grounds overlooking the stunning countryside beyond?

Strange as it may seem, I took this latest scheme in my stride. That is, until I looked harder at the small print. Now I am sure there will be consternation in the car park, for although the school bills itself as exclusive and discerning, the Great Man is in fact proposing to open up these schemes to the locals.

Up and up
I have no doubt that at the next governors’ meeting the issue of increasing the number of bursaries for exceptional children from poorer backgrounds will pass without a murmur from the parent governors, even if it means a hike in fees in the region of one and half per cent... so yet another financial blow.

Spring term 2011

In a bid to be more efficient, parents’ evenings are no longer “evenings” as such, but late afternoons so that the teachers are spared having to come back into school and the bursar doesn’t have the expense of paying overtime to those on an hourly contract; never mind that the parents that have to take a half-day off for the privilege.

Gone are the days of warm classrooms and cosy chats with Miss Smiley, followed by canapés and Champagne in the headmaster’s drawing room. Now the event exists to intimidate and bedazzle us poor parents. Why else is it held in the Great Hall, with its impressive vaulted ceiling and rolls of honour lining its walls?

The teachers are donned in their robes, their mantles and unfathomable badges of learning at which mere mortals can only wonder. They are ranged either side of the hall like black-hooded vultures behind desks, and peer at us as we tentatively enter.

Left, right
With military precision, we are allocated numbers and chaperoned to each teacher’s desk for our interview, at the end of which a bell is rung and we all move on to the next available teacher or else join a queue and wait in line.
There is no privacy at these events and one has to speak in hushed tones lest one’s child’s aptitude or lack of it is broadcast to all and sundry. Problem is, I’m never quite sure what has been said about my child as I am bombarded by teacherspeak; that my precious one finds it hard to focus and needs to develop a better sense of responsibility. And time is up before I can gather my wits to demand more interesting lessons to prevent the problem in the first place...

Shoulders straight
Efficiency and fairness are the watchwords of the event, extending beyond practicality and right into the heart of the classroom. Of course, I understand that nothing is more difficult than matching parental expectations with reality, but does it have to be conveyed quite so brutally?

And why all of a sudden is the only way forward through “special needs”, which of course will necessitate extra cost, unless I am willing to let my son repeat a year?

Distraught by what I have been told and, frankly, rather discombobulated by the whole process, it is with the relief of a man in the desert who suddenly finds an oasis that a friendly face is spied, bobbing about between parents.
The headmaster listens with sympathy to one’s woes and makes such practical suggestions, like sharing special needs teachers to spread the cost and enrolment into the school’s new holiday learning scheme that I simply wonder that perhaps this all might be rather unnecessary for a seven year-old…

Autumn term 10

I am quite prepared for the music lessons and tennis coaching, but it’s the school trips sprung on us that catch me unawares. Individually, each one is reasonable, but when you get a plethora over the term, you forget that the costs will multiply. It would be so much easier if you were told at the beginning of term how many trips there would be so you could budget; but I have a feeling that if the school did that parents might just revolt…

I’m all for school trips. In fact, they were the highlight of my existence while I was incarcerated during my formative years. How could I forget the geography field trip to Scarborough, where the sleet flew at ninety degrees or the trips to the local museum and the endless worksheets, which never seemed to connect to the displays?

Get away from it all
School trips were rare and that’s what gave them their frisson of excitement and made them so memorable.

Now they seem to happen every week under the slightest of pretexts, thanks to the backing of the Government and teachers’ unions, and even the National Trust (it carried out a one-year study that concluded that school trips can be life-changing for the children that go on them). I do think, though, that you can have too much of a good thing. Last year my son went on eight trips and I am not convinced that all were necessary for a seven-year-old.

I live in terror that he’ll decide to opt for the Japanese or business studies option at the after-school club when he hits Year 3: this will likely necessitate a trip to Japan or, worse, a five-day excursion to New York to understand how the Dow Jones works. But even if he doesn’t opt for either, I face an even worse dilemma if he shows an aptitude in either music or sports. For, at some stage sooner rather than later, there will be “The Tour” and, if the last one I heard about is anything to go by, I won’t see much change from £2,000.

Hmm…
I start to have dark suspicions: just who is choosing these trips? And how much am I subsidising the teachers and staff who lead them? I have no qualms about the theatre studies group needing to go to the occasional show, but do they all have to be in London’s West End? And is it really necessary to study ox bow lakes in Vietnam? I do understand that perhaps the parent governor’s children have seen all the capitals of Europe and that the only way they’ll have a true sense of cultural difference is to travel further away, but surely something could be found closer to home?

However, I am also beginning to realise that there are some parents who enjoy the kudos of being able to report that their little darlings are going to South Africa for a 12-day rugby tour and are taking in some of the sights, including a stay on a private game reserve in Sabi Sabi. I also note it is the same parents who volunteer to act as chaperones…

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Summer term 10

On high days and holidays, and of course when Royalty is present, the school governors appear out of the woodwork. Mostly, the school’s governors are notable by their absence, so you can imagine that it came as quite a shock to see three of them, in the same place, when there wasn’t anything actually happening.

To be honest, I didn’t know who they were until they introduced themselves. I understand that this volte-face on their behalf is part of a long-range, far-reaching public relations programme, code name Operation Warm and Woolly, instigated by the bursar following fallout after the increase in school fees was announced last year.

It might also be in reaction to the rather large number of children who are being withdrawn from the school on what seems like a daily basis. Thus, the powers that be have decided that the only way to stem the tide is to bring out the Big Guns.

All over the place
Suddenly, there are governors who are also parents, but I note that they were not actually voted on by parents to represent them. I have no idea how the governors are selected, but suspect it might be a case of who you know rather than what you know and, if you happen to be a Lord or Rear Admiral or a multimillionaire social climber, then you are a shoo-in.

Anyway, after being introduced, I happily chatted and helped myself to the instant coffee and custard creams on offer only to be rather disconcerted when one of the governors asked me who the charming lady in the blue dress was – obviously the governors are unlikely to know all the parents by sight, but the lady in question just happened to be the director of English and someone I consider a core member of the teaching staff.

Even worse
One couldn’t expect it to get worse, but I nearly choked on my custard cream when I overheard another governor expounding rather heatedly on the need for Christian values in school nowadays to Mrs Gupta, a leading light in the local Sikh community. He was hustled away by the registrar when his conversation turned alarmingly to immigration.

As I was recovering my equilibrium, the governor assigned to me started to ask me about my plans for the future schooling of my children. Now there is nothing a parent likes to do best, but talking about one’s offspring kind of loses its brilliance when the person asking the questions is clearly not the remotest bit interested in the answer. Added to that, it was annoying that all the questions were directed at my chest.

It crossed my mind that the whole event was more akin to an Ealing Studio comedy than a professional PR exercise. And it took great strength of mind to prevent myself from bursting out laughing, which I don’t think was the intention at all. But, there again, it did leave me with a warm and woolly feeling and huge sense of nostalgia for the good old days when life was apparently simpler…

Spring term 10

In these straightened times, I’m all for cutting back and being prudent, and it seems as if, for once, the school is with me. All capital expenditure for this year has been suspended as the headmaster deems that it would be insensitive to go forward with any major building works when so many parents are struggling just to meet the hike in this year’s fees.

To be honest, when the head made this pronouncement at the annual parent/teacher cheese and wine party (now without cheese), I had hoped he would add that next year’s fees would be held for a year or at least pegged to the rate of inflation, but that is not to be. Instead, with the imminent merger, he added that there would be a radical overhaul of the school’s finances, budget systems and protocols to meet these more challenging times. Everybody clapped. Though judging from the near indecipherable letter in today’s school bag, perhaps we were a little premature.

Cheap and cheerful
It seems as if the governors have sanctioned the bursar to adopt a “no frills” school policy somewhat akin to that which you might find on a budget airline such as Ryanair. The letter directs us to download the details from the school server for which I note that, in the small print, we shall be charged a nominal fee to cover unavoidable office expenses. This will be added to next term’s school fee bill.

The 200-page document clarifies the core costs of sending a child to the school and it certainly looks good value for money, on the face of it. It was the extras that caused me to struggle. I did a double take on the optional ablutions clause for non-boarders, thinking that the bursar was going as far as charging children for going to the loo: he hasn’t gone that far but any day boy who wishes to have a shower following afternoon games will have to pay extra though, to my relief, children chosen for school teams will be exempt.

Cut, cut, cut
Other initiatives being brought forward under the guise of helping parents to cut costs include a textbook-sharing initiative for those parents not wishing to opt for the rent-a-book scheme, a complicated boarding programme incorporating flexi-boarding, weekly boarding, full-boarding and half-boarding, where it seems the parents can use the school as a babysitting service with breakfast thrown in and a pay-as-you-use system for music rooms (with children in the school orchestra exempt) as well as for sports facilities (school teams exempt).

The new fiscal document even outlines the different dietary options, with the vegetarian alternative being by far the cheapest. The school will now allow day children to bring in packed lunches, though it will have to charge a nominal fee for use of the dining room.

How to pay
A whole section of the document has been given over to methods of payment for school fees and insurance, which it says is now compulsory to protect the school (and fee-paying parents) from defaulters.

The bursar has kindly calculated the insurance premium for parents and says for budgetary purposes it can be paid in three instalments throughout the school year.

I am sure by next year the whole system will be automated with check boxes and I will be paying for the privilege of having the school fee bill sent out to me.

Autumn term 09

Why is it that the most important information a parent receives from their child’s school is always typed on the smallest slip of paper, tucked in among the most innocuous of documents?

Our well-hidden slip of paper stated that we would be merging with a highly regarded and successful all-girls prep school based some 20 miles away. This immediately caused consternation as, if it was so successful and highly regarded, why did it need to merge? Then the horror struck: did it mean that we were the ones who needed rescuing?

OK, so the foundations of the new all-singing-and-dancing theatre had been a bit of an eyesore for the past few months and were beginning to look more like a new outdoor swimming pool, but the bar was in and I understand that the bursar had succeeded in securing a licence, which we were reliably told would help secure an excellent income for the school in the years to come.

Then there was, of course, the fact that perhaps the much-vaunted small class sizes had become a little too small, especially when you consider that the games master was raiding the preprep in order to field an under-9s first eleven in the summer. So much for thinking that little seven-year-old Johnny was a cricketing prodigy.

Growing cool
Perhaps the headmaster’s talk about leading the field in green schooling last year was a ruse to save money on heating oil? It never occurred to me that it was odd that the children were always bundled up in their winter fleeces at picking up time, whatever the weather.

Luckily the merged facility, I am told, will still be based in our beautiful secluded landscaped grounds, thanks to the unfortunate fire that gutted the girls prep school at the beginning of the summer holidays. It made all the local newspapers and even some of the broadsheets.

The joint letter of notification from the governors and both headmaster and headmistress noted that there is always a silver lining following such tragedies and that, due to the merger, the girls prep school would not be rebuilt and that the insurers were quite happy to see the 10-acre site sold to Tesco. Rumour has it that the supermarket had been looking for a suitable site on the edge of the market town but had been thwarted by a group of Nimbys for years.

Fees up?
After good news there is inevitably some bad. We were informed that despite the generous terms offered by the supermarket, they would not be enough cover the costs of the new much improved educational facility – and that school fees therefore would increase by four per cent. I was slightly taken aback; even Eton managed to keep theirs down to 2.7 per cent this year!

So, it’s full steam ahead with the merger, though there is one small fly in the ointment: I’ve just found out that one of the girls has set up a petition on social networking site Facebook to rebuild her school. It’s garnered more than 2,000 members and it’s only been up a few days. She says it’s nothing personal against boys but that it is a well-known fact that girls do much better in all-girls schools. Her father also happens to own the town’s largest independent grocery store.

Spring term 09

Without the support of parents, of course, independent schools could not exist. Bursars are now having to undergo charm offensives to keep them on board, as our Rogue Parent recently discovered

It was with gut-wrenching fear and a touch of guilt for not having paid as promptly as I should have, that I trudged up the stairs to the oak-lined hall leading to the bursar’s inner sanctum, following a summons from the Great Man himself.

Previous experience had led me to expect to feel thoroughly chastened and considerably lighter of pocket at the end of a brief (and usually vicious) visit. So it was disconcerting to find that I was greeted, if not exactly with open arms, but certainly a smile. Gone was the utilitarian visitor’s chair, which was used to discourage any lingering, which had been replaced with a comfy chintz-covered sofa. Tea and biscuits were offered. And as the GM eased himself beside me, my thoughts could not help jumping to images of Jemima Puddle-Duck being seduced by the roguish Mr Tod for her precious eggs.

In a surprising, genuinely sympathetic tone, the GM asked if I had any problems I would like to share of a delicate nature, or at least that’s what I thought he said, but after a moment of panic I realised he was asking about the family finances.

Huh?
Before I had much of a chance to say anything in reply, he had whipped out an array of documents for my perusal and was waxing lyrical about how the school appreciated how difficult it was in this day and age to balance one’s budget and still be able to go on the annual skiing holiday to Chamonix: but he said the school could help.

It transpires that the GM has secured a licence from the Office of Fair Trading to provide loans to parents, which can be secured on the family home. I was very nearly carried away by the GM’s enthusiasm and would have signed up on the spot, but luckily remembered that we were already hocked up to the eyeballs. Noticing my reticence, the GM then suggested a monthly payment option, with a hefty discount if I agreed to pay for future schooling in advance – as well as my outstanding bill.

Erm...
My bemusement must have been taken for reluctance, for the next thing I knew he was talking about how the school is considering offering after-school care for free next year, and that they have decided not to outsource the after-school clubs, so that they will be free as well. Then there is the revelation that the school is thinking about introducing a school bus and would I like to sign up?

By this time, I am thinking that there has to be a catch – and there is. These freebies and offers are only open to those parents who have more than one child signed up at the school. The GM assures me, with a wolfish smile, that my youngest boy is bound to qualify for many of the BOGOF offers the school is introducing, which includes a variety of items from the ever-increasing school uniform list and after-school activities such as ballet, needlework and flower-arranging.

I left the inner sanctum with an uneasy feeling that I had been ever so gently mugged. All I know is that both my sons are signed up for the foreseeable future, knitting classes thrown in, and I have the sneaking suspicion that I will have to seek out the deeds to the house for the privilege.

But lo! They even have Under-6 training sessions and my boy is signed up for the next three years. If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em...