Spare a thought for those lefties who went to private schools

It’s a given that the great bulk of us look forward to starting university for the many new and exciting things that it brings; from a greater sense of independence and freedom, to the beginnings of everlasting friendships, to the endless opportunities for one night stands, to the more in-depth dig into your chosen degree and most importantly, to the mayhem-like form nights-out tend to take. The year of the fresher, however, is also seen as, for a minute group of the privately educated lefties on campus, the official end to a lengthy 13-year struggle of living and studying in what seemed a universal true blue environment, and the beginning of a somewhat long awaited period of self-liberation.

As a surviving veteran attendee of an all-girls private school for more than half a decade, I will be forever grateful to my long standing-public sector-working mum for granting me the opportunity to enrol at such an institution given the excellent level of teaching offered to me as well as the vast numbers of genuinely nice people I encountered along the way, many of whom I continue to keep up with. But I can’t, like many other fellow Labourites, help but sometimes look back on my school days with a great deal of cynicism and lamentation.

Let’s just say I didn’t fit the ideal prototype – I was a fervent socialist who frequently questioned why on earth had I been sent to this convent-like of a place of censorship and social parochialism whilst I continued to associate closely with a species who quite clearly were of the complete opposite political agenda to me or in most cases did not have the faintest interest in hearing my thoughts on issues such as Obamacare or the rise of Podemos. Things were shown to be in a dire state though when the only newspapers available in the school library were of the Murdoch and establishmentarian strand. So much for the prohibition of political bias in schools.

The problems and awkward situations experienced for us on the left in the private education system are a too common occurrence so I thought it right to inform those at uni who have not been lucky enough to spend more than half their life at one to discover a little more what we deal with on a day to day basis and the recommended treatment to take…

Talking politics is a no-go subject matter

Talking about the likes of Corbyn or Bernie or even Cameron or Trump is not only going to greatly bore someone to death if they are that kind who is so disengaged with the politics that even mentioning the UK general election almost puts them to sleep, but there also exists the likelihood of them eventually classifying you as an utter weirdo who needs to get a life. By contrast, your politics talk may erupt a fiery debate between you and a long standing tory. In most cases saving the debates until university is crucial.

Keep quiet about your choice of reading…

Keeping politics to a minimum in the classroom is paramount

In the classroom, the subjects history and modern studies, in particular, always seem to prove problematic and troublesome for us lefties – we just can’t pipe down; we always need a word in. They are our time to let our voice be heard and advocate our opinion but at the same time the ideal time to annoy the shit out of all your classmates with Marxist ideology and progressive movement talk. No one likes a know-it-all and, above all, no one likes a lefty know it all. Best to keep those thoughts about the miners’ strike to yourself.

Juggling your social meet-ups

In an ideal world we would like to spend every waking moment of our days with those who we agreed with or at least shared the same political stance with but that is all simply out of the question in a private school. The solution seems to be to divide your socialising between the, admittedly, very friendly and good natured capitalist chums at the convent, and your likeminded leftist  friends from Young Labour. Looking at it , it seems that you get the best of both worlds in that you master the etiquette to talk to that upper class lad from Eton or that working class girl you meet at a Labour hustings.

The expectation to attend those so-called dances or as some of us prefer to call it, those ‘corporate gatherings’

As someone who eventually gave in to attending to 1 out of her school 2 dances based on incessant persuasion from some classmates, I do of course look back on it with many fond memories and much gaiety but I can’t deny the capitalist feel they had to them. If we break it down it in simple terms; it consists of copious numbers of women spending hundreds on a mountain load of unnecessary prom tat for a single night of the year in order gather at a mediocre hotel partnered with a bunch of, in most cases, nonentities of the opposite sex to eat, dance, eat some more and pose for countless numbers of photos all night long in an ultra-cliquey environment. What fun! This is night when a lefty’s moral values are thrown out the window and the champagne socialist inside of you is forced to make a special appearance after not being seen in public for so long– It’s tough but you must learn to grin and bear it. Your spirits are marginally lifted, however, when you discover that the dancing is ceilidh rather than ballroom – (no, we’re not married, living in or working for big business quite yet, thank you very much; you can save me those unwanted awkward and sappy moments for two decades or for never, quite frankly)

Champagne socialism in all its glory

All things considered, the numerous instances of ridicule and episodes of scholastic political isolation experienced over the course of many many years, it seems important that us red crusaders put those days of political blandness and abstaining behind us and look positively on our lives at university today and take joy in the fact that whenever, or wherever we can always be assured that there will be a fellow comrade from that pub, from that club, from that seminar, or even if we become at worst case scenario, from that library lift, who will be willing to discuss as many dictatorships, social movements or political theories as your recovering leftist heart and soul desires.