What type of person studies Latin in 2024? As a result of Labour’s decision to axe the £4 million Latin Excellence Programme (LEP), the stereotype of the average Latin student – that they are posh and privately educated – is likely to persist. As a state school student who studied Latin – a subject that helped me win a place at a top university – this saddens me greatly. The intellectual vandalism of Labour’s education secretary Bridget Phillipson is hard to forgive.
One in two children are taught Latin at private schools, compared to just 2.7 per cent at comprehensives
Out of the six of us who studied Latin GCSE at the bog standard state school I attended, I was the only white student. The others came from solidly working-class black and brown Muslim families. We all went on to attend Russell Group universities; two went to Cambridge. I have no doubt that having a Latin GCSE under our belts helped.
Yet from February, fewer state school students will be able to follow in our footsteps and study Latin, thanks to Labour. The decision to cut funding halfway through the academic year seems particularly spiteful. Students have been left in limbo as they wait to see if they can sit their exams in the summer. Of course, those with sufficiently wealthy parents will be able to pay to sit the examination privately. As ever, the skint draw the short straw.
One in two children are taught Latin at private schools, compared to just 2.7 per cent at comprehensives. I was one of the lucky few who made up the 2.7 per cent. I attended a single sex comprehensive in inner city London where nearly half of students speak English as a second language and 36 per cent of students get free school meals. We are not the sort of kids whom you might expect to know their nominative case from their accusative.
Much of what we did study hardly prepared us for going to university. Hours of our time was wasted on things like design technology (DT). During these lessons, we cooked, sewed, and sanded, instead of learning English and maths. It was an avowedly feminist establishment, but the irony that a large chunk of the school week was effectively given over to housewifery was not lost on us.
There was an independent girls’ school nearby and it had a fearsome academic reputation. During one cookery lesson, my friend, who did not, let’s say, have the makings of a domestic goddess, pulled a crumble out of the oven that resembled a dead and very burnt badger. “I bet they’re not bothering with this bullshit up the hill,” she muttered darkly.
Within a few years of the Conservatives coming to power in 2010, everything changed. DT lesson hours were reduced and Latin was offered as an after-school GCSE option. Some of my teachers were openly left-wing in their political views. Perhaps unsurprisingly, in this milieu, Michael Gove – the education secretary at the time and now editor of this magazine – was painted as the bogeyman. But when Latin lessons began, some students privately voiced their gratitude about the education shake-up.
Initial interest in taking the Latin class was considerable, even though our thoughtful head of languages gently warned us that the GCSE wasn’t going to be easy. “You’re starting at a disadvantage, most students taking the qualification have been learning Latin since prep school. They’re at least three years ahead of you all.”
Limited resources also meant that teaching was limited to two 45-minute lessons a week. Despite this, around 40 pupils signed up. After a while, lessons were cut down to one a week; and then the Latin teacher announced he was leaving, and that no one would be replacing him. By this point, there were only six students left anyway, but undeterred we continued to meet up after school, sans teacher, and taught ourselves from the textbook.
We did so because we were clear-eyed about the benefits of studying Latin. The subject might have an elitist reputation, but we felt it was a worthwhile endeavour. I’m glad I persevered. For all the challenges Latin presented, “boring” is one word I’d never use to describe studying this ancient language. It was a great introduction to a period of history I’d never formally learnt about before or since; it challenged my brain to think in new ways. Putting imaginary rings around certain areas of knowledge is always a slippery slope. It’s hard not to conclude that the whole sorry decision to scrap the Latin programme reveals some deep-seated bigotry of low expectations on Labour’s part.
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