Who's the Daddy?

Well that’s exam season done and dusted for another year.
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I f you got what you wanted, well done. You obviously worked hard for it and deserve every bit of success that comes your way.

If you didn’t, it might’ve felt like your whole world fell out of your backside on that terrible August morning when a dismal collection of numbers or letters from your worst nightmare knocked you off your feet like a Tyson Fury uppercut. But believe me, you worry too much.

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This season’s Education Secretary, they’re not in the job long enough these days to make it worthwhile learning their names, got a nation’s knickers in a twist on A-Level results day when she said not to sweat it if you didn’t get what you hoped for because in 10 years, nobody will give a stuff what grades you got.

Ten years? That long? It’s rare for politicians of any hue to speak the unfiltered truth in early 21st century Britain, but I’d have gone one further.

If you think that A-Levels aren’t worth the paper they’re written on, just wait til you’ve blown FIFTY THOUSAND QUID on a degree that you’ll be paying off until you’re walking with a stick.

If you’re of the opinion that our higher education system is an elaborate scam designed to enslave successive generations of youngsters into lifelong debt, then we might have more in common than you think.

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Our daughters, now aged 23 and 21, are a couple of bright sparks breaking out on their own. But it’s no thanks to the years of irrelevant nonsense they got taught in big school and all the exams they passed. To be honest, I’d say it’s in spite of it.

Oh, and this isn’t having a go at teachers. They do their best with dwindling resources while under strict instructions to teach a curriculum as relevant as Blockbuster Video’s five-year business plan in 2008.

In your working life, when have you ever sat in silence for three hours and scribbled down everything you knew about, ooh, I dunno, crop rotation in the 14th century, then have it graded to determine the course of the next few years of your life?

Unless it’s in a stress dream where your teeth have just fallen out and you’ve turned up for work naked again, I’d say never.

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During daughter #1’s first week in her first proper job at a large firm of solicitors, one of the high-ups welcomed her to the company and said they didn’t much care where she went to university or what she got (a first in law from a Russell Group uni, but there you go). All they were interested in was how she could help the firm grow.Likewise, yours truly’s four O-levels and a CSE, two A-levels and a 2.2 in English lit from Scumbag College have been no barrier to a 31-year journeyman “career” in journalism. Which goes to prove that at the end of the day, exams mean **** all.