Traditions

Author's Note: For those of you in the audience lucky enough to be unfamiliar with the British private school system, consider this an education.

Tradition gets talked about a lot at my school, you understand. And to be fair, there are myriad traditions in existence there. Most of them are not good. Private schools are by nature very insular places, and when you combine that with having to pay for the privilege of attending, it's almost a foregone conclusion that you'll cultivate an elitist attitude.

Traditions at my school include being good at rugby, looking down your nose at anyone from a less wealthy background than you, wanton violence and general ridicule of anyone remotely different. Throw in a frisson of homophobia, because that's what happens when you put over a thousand hormonal teenage boys together for seven hours every weekday, and you have the makings of a wonderful time for all. Well, almost all.

You see, public schools are concrete evidence for evolution. When you arrive, it is made very clear what is done and what is not done, and to put it mildly, you either adapt or die. And this wouldn't be so bad, except the process warps your mind. No matter what else you do in life, no matter where you go, you will always and forever be a public schoolboy, with all the neuroses and prejudices that entails.

Note, however, that this process is not administered by the staff. It is a function of the place that is elemental, as basic as the red bricks that comprise the buildings. This, incidentally, is the same function that puts portraits of boys who went out and got machine-gunned for King and Country sixty years ago on the walls, next to an over-sized Union Jack that covered the coffin of some overzealous explorer and alumnus. Likewise, the lists of names of scholarships to Oxford and Cambridge covering the walls, the smell of boot polish and insecurity that emanate from the army cadets' designated parade ground, and the impetus that causes the careers department to label anything not requiring a university degree 'chaff'.

That is not to say that the staff are entirely blameless, however. As good as they are at their jobs, the pressure they put on students is immense. The number of nervous breakdowns to be had during exam season does not bear thinking about, and teachers have an unerring accuracy when it comes to diminishing self-confidence.

Of course, the problem with an insular world is that so much of it is artificial. That is to say, if your world ends at the ornately-designed wrought iron fences that compose the boundary line between Us and Them, sooner or later you will get a nasty surprise. This may take the form of, say, discovering that you don't need qualifications to be happy, that normal people actually try to be civil in conversation, or that the people you pass on the walk in to your perfect little world are not as two-dimensional as they seem. Nonetheless, it provides a convincing distraction for a teenager, and it tends to make you lose your sense of perspective.

My school is a profoundly surreal place, with aristocratic rugby-players trying their very best to seem working-class, with mockney accents and an anti-intellectualism to rival the Khmer Rouge. And there's only so much dark wood panelling you can put up around the corridors before people start falling victim to hubris. Between that, a paternalistic approach to community service (extending a patronising, well-manicured hand to those less fortunate than us) and a talent beyond belief for suppressing bad news, along with its messengers, I have a lot of grievances with the place.

For me, it's over. I'm going to leave, and prove that you can live life free of it, and still realise your dreams. To those of you in the same position as I was, I have only this to say: the world does not end at those gates. And if you think it's worth staying, consider this. The very least you can do is to sabotage that world of dusty gowns and Latin mottoes. Strike a blow for absurdity, tolerance, and non-conformity. Be a private-school guerilla, this place is overdue for an insurgency.