Scholarship for Beginners
Raising his lunchtime eyes above the clatter and chatter of the dining table a boy may survey the serried names of old boys picked out in gold on the wooden boards around the walls of the dining hall: award-winners all. Some went with feathers in caps to Eton and Harrow, some to Radley and Winchester, some to St Edward’s, Abingdon and MCS. In a quarter of a century, muses the boy, my son may be sitting here proudly pointing out to his fellow lunchers his father’s name.
“I should like one of those,” declares the boy to the master at the end of the table.
“Then go up and take one,” says the master, peeling a banana.
“I mean a scholarship,” clarifies the boy. “What do I need to do?”
Between mouthfuls of banana the master proceeds to expound the mysteries of Scholarship.
“Let us begin,” begins the teacher, “by talking of academic scholarship.”
“Let’s,” agrees the boy.
“But first let us talk about you."
“I already know about me, sir.”
“Are you, Fortescue…?” [not his real name] “Are you interested in learning – not for marks but for knowledge? Do you read books avidly? Does your heart quicken when offered ‘extension’ work? Do you take wing when academic challenges and competitions are in the air? Do your preps and projects earn laudations and commendations spiced with superlatives…?”
“Thought we were talking about scholarship, sir.”
“Should you show scholarly promise – in the ways I have outlined mid-banana – then you may well be invited to join a select group in Year 7 who will be aiming for a scholarship to their next school.”
“I accept the invitation, sir.”
“May well be invited. Which school do you have in mind, Fortescue?” [Still not his real name] “Some are more expensive than others, you know…”
“No worries there, sir: my parents will be paying.”
“And some schools’ examinations present considerable challenge.”
The boy casts his eyes back to the boards of awards. “Eton may suit me.”
Another boy – let us call him Archibald – joins in the conversation with “This group of Year 7 hopefuls, sir… Do they have extra lessons?”
“They certainly do, Archibald: extra special lessons – in English, Science, Mathematics, languages…”
A flicker of concern in Fortescue’s eyes as he asks, “And extra work?”
The master nods. “Most candidates need some extra preparation for scholarship."
“When does this ‘some extra’ happen?” pursues Fortescue.
“During non-academic lessons, usually.”
“So I might miss… Metalwork or… Media Studies?” [Actual subjects may vary]
“A few of such lessons, yes: there is a trade-off.”
Fortescue rises. “I need to think about it, sir. I don’t want to disappoint Eton but…”
“Thinking about things is a good sign,” declares the master gnomically.
Exit playgroundwards Fortescue. Archibald surveys the boards.
“I should like to try for a scholarship,” he declares with resolved tone. “But if I fail?”
“You’ll not fail, Archibald. Scholarship is as a Sports Day race: one wins, another is runner-up; no one loses, no one fails. ”
"And if I… win?”
“Delight all round. You will have honed your intellect; you will be welcomed with honour at your next school, where there may be special events laid on for scholars; and your parents will be pleased not to have to pay quite so much for your education.”
“May I be considered for scholarship lessons then, sir?”
“Your teachers will certainly consider you, Archibald.”
Thank you, sir. By the way, my name is not Archibald.”
“To preserve your anonymity in the Newsletter article which this lunchtime conversation has inspired me to write, I am calling you Archibald.”
“I see. Thoughtful of you, sir.”
The rest of the table is now engaged. What of Sports scholarships, Mr Jekyll? [Not his real name] And behold the innumerable music awards! And Art? Golf even!?
“I am sorry, boys: my lunch is ended,” apologises the departing Jekyll. “Ask of such enticing awards another time. ”
………………………………………………………………………
Postscript: Archibald won a scholarship to Bexton College. [Not its real name]
Mr Nicholas Richards
Classics Teacher
