It’s that time of year again. School places are being allocated and, in our area at least, there is a desperate shortage for primary school children (over 200 children more than reception places at last count). Now it could be that you are reading this in your gorgeous farmhouse kitchen, with the cows gently lowing outside and chickens pecking in the yard and you have no choice of school but the lovely little village one at the end of the road, in which case, well done you! Thank your lucky stars, because the rest of us are embarking on a hideous competition for places which makes most mothers seriously consider what lengths they would go to for the best interest of their child to be served.
Speaking as someone raised in a family with no religion, but having experienced church through school, I had no problems with a religious education for my children. It has given me a good grounding in our society’s mores and values, it has taught me all the bible stories upon which a lot of fiction and theatre is based and it made me really consider my own beliefs (and decide that as far as organised religion goes, I have none). My husband, who was raised as a strict catholic, rediscovered his faith once we got to this portion of parenthood, and felt quite strongly that the girls should go to a church school. I didn’t mind one way or the other and so his will won out.
Where we live in greater London, there are about eight really good primary schools within a few miles of our house and two really really bad ones. I did a quick straw poll amongst the neighbours and got a good feel for which schools were better than others. The only problem was that the church schools (the better schools) required a degree of commitment from the parents… no one made any bones about it, and before too long it was explained to me that in order to be considered part of the religious community you had to go to church “more often than not”. There was no requirement for your child to be christened, and no one expected you to believe in God… but if you could help out with Sunday school that got you onto a “list” which (rumour had it) assured you a place at the school.
I am not one to wrestle with my conscience too much and as I didn’t have to pretend to be anything I wasn’t, I happily embarked on church going. I was respectful but I didn’t kneel, I didn’t say any of the prayers, I smiled and nodded as I got to know people and before too long the vicar realised that if he was stuck, I was quite reliable to read a lesson or two at short notice. I loved the singing, I loved the sense of community, I wasn’t so sure about the pews of little old ladies in their hats who tutted at my baby, but as far as a box ticking exercise went it wasn’t too arduous. It wasn’t long before the vicar’s wife asked me if I would mind teaching Sunday School. “Ahhh…,” I said “I don’t actually believe in God.” A momentary pause and then she patted my thigh and said “That’s all right dear!” and so I started hosting a small “Sunday school” where we sang a lot about baa baa black sheep and did some non denominational colouring in. I understand that some mothers were outraged that a non-believer was looking after their children while they listened to the word of the Lord, but none of them stepped forward to do the job themselves so I kept doing it… for the sake of a school place.
Then we moved… disaster. We were now just out of catchment for that particular C of E school. My husband did a quick bit of research and discovered that a Catholic school on the other side of town had no distance requirement or catchment area, but instead required that the children be baptised. Fine. Out came the frocks and off they went to be dunked. Always up for a good party, we had a cake and drank lots of champagne and again, on the day itself, I said “Cod” instead of “God” and “Cheeses” instead of “Jesus” and never misrepresented myself (and tried to keep a straight face when asked to turn my face from the devil…). Now husband was happy to take the girls to church every week and deal with the evil gaze of the little old ladies making their peace with the Almighty. 
They both got in to the school (which just got “outstanding” across the board for their Ofsted inspection) and still go to church every Sunday with their daddy while I religiously cycle around Richmond Park listening to The Archers on Radio 4 (does that count, I wonder?).
So… my advice is to think about what you want for your little darling. If it is a decent State school, you really can’t start too early. If the best local State school is a church school, find out what is required to get in. Some have an attendance policy (and they are savvy to the families who pitch up at the church in February, a month before the applications are due… you need to be going at least a year before nursery applications are in. There is a church role taken in the summer which is good to get on), some require baptismal or christening certificates, some need a letter from the vicar saying they actually know who you are (it’s worth offering to do the flowers, or take Sunday school, or at least to wear bright colours and be friendly!) some base their catchment purely on distance from the school (and it is the safest walking distance rather than a straight route, so being across the road, but without a zebra crossing means you have to walk up to the safest official crossing point and back down again). Some schools have a very strict sibling or special needs policy. Most schools have a combination of some or all of these things. Do your homework and that should give your honey the best possible chance to get in to the school of your choice.
But how do you go about choosing a good school if you don’t know anything about them? I would always recommend you attend the school open day when the school is on show and they know they are being judged, but also make a separate appointment with the head teacher if you can, take your other half and ask any pertinent questions you can then. Remember they are looking at you as well, so don’t let yourself down. I would also highly recommend standing outside the school at drop off or chucking out time and get a sense of the type of family who goes there. Are the parents and children all chatting nicely with each other? Do they look happy? Does the head teacher stand by the gate and greet the kids by name? Are you allowed to go into the playground or do you have to post the children through a gate? Or do the mothers all arrive late with fags hanging out of their mouths with dogs on strings, swearing? The final test is the school fete. Find out when it is and go. You get a really good sense of what sort of a school it is from the fete, and don’t be shy. Ask other parents what they think of the school while you are there.
A lot of primary schools have a different number of children for nursery (perhaps two form entry for nursery) than reception (which may be just single form entry). In which case you need to consider your chances. If your child is settled and loves the school but fails to get a place for reception at the end of their first year will they be gutted… will you? Will you have bought a uniform which is no longer any use to you? It may be better to find a school which has the same number (or fewer) of nursery places as reception places to give your child a better chance of staying there. Bear in mind that most schools weigh reception places in favour of the children who have already established themselves in the school during nursery, so don’t make the mistake of believing the hype that reception admission is completely separate from nursery admission. These choices are made centrally, but the schools have a good say in who is offered a place.
So: Don’t give up. If you don’t get the school of your first choice you will probably still get in. In my experience it is very unusual for a child not to eventually be offered a place at their first choice school. It may take a few years, but you will probably get in there in the end. I have a few friends who were in this situation and the lesson learned is this: immediately write a letter quoting form the school prospectus as to why that particular school is perfect for your child, let them know it is the only school you are interested in and you will wait for a place to come up and then phone or drop by once a week and be cheery as you ask where you are on the waiting list. Cakes don’t hurt. Remember, the school secretary has influence here. I know of one child whose mother popped in one day with biscuits and said another in a long line of cheery “hello’s and the secretary said to her “Look, we haven’t heard back from the child we just offered the available place to, can your daughter start on Monday?” and that was it. She was in. Of course, the LEA doesn’t want you to think that it is all up to the schools, but trust me, they have a great deal more influence than we are lead to believe.
And my final piece of advice is: Don’t Panic. You will sort it out even if it looks like the worst situation ever. Trust that you will find a way through it. Everyone is different and you will know what you are prepared to do for your child. I know what I have done is something other mothers may find appalling, but to me, it was a simple choice: to prove I was serious about the school of my choice, I had to go to church. I could do that… but only you know what you can live with.
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