The interviews of prospective incoming Grade 8’s for 2013 have come to an end and now the task begins of sifting through reports, letters from parents and boys, interview notes and confidential feedback from the primary schools.
It is not easy and there is certainly no foolproof system. I went with our Director of Academics, Neil Eddy, to listen to Dr Max Price, Vice Chancellor of UCT, when he spoke last week on the topic of UCT being an elite university. At the end, he was asked a question on admissions and said that if it were up to him personally, the top ten percent of his acceptances would be on marks with the other ninety percent being chosen by lottery (above a certain percentage mark of course).
‘How do you select on a mark?’ he queried. ‘What about character, commitment, energy, curiosity? Does a mark mean the candidate is going to be a good doctor?’
Quite so, Dr Price. Now try selecting twelve year olds for a school. Certainly a lottery would save much time, effort and heartache.
I really enjoyed doing the interviews and made copious notes on what the boys said – both in the interviews and in their letters.
‘I am writing a book,’ said one. ‘It is called Dragon Eye. When I become a famous author one day, I will say I am from Wynberg.’
Move over, Jacques Kallis – a new Wilbur Smith will now be promoting our school.
Others went on a different tack: ‘I desperately want to get into Wynberg. They say all girls love a Wynberg Man!’ I wonder if this would also apply to our young bachelor teachers?
Was his friend saying the same thing, when he wrote down emphatically: ‘I want to wear your uniform because then I know I will get what I want.’
Another one was quite insistent. ‘I am afraid that I have no choice about going to Wynberg. My father refuses to pay fees for anywhere else and my mother says that she won’t lift me anywhere else.’ Oh, well – if only he had told me that earlier, we could have saved time on the interview!
As with this one: ‘My Mom and Dad believe in me so that that they have not applied for any other school.’
I have been wondering since his interview, what one boy meant by this: ‘Wynberg suits my personality.’
Forthrightness was the order of the day with this young man: ‘I would wear your blazer with so much pride, I would have to be forced to remove it!’ These type of comments are good reminders for our current boys who sometimes find themselves becoming a little blasé about the privilege of attending a top school.
They would also have had their heartstrings tweaked if they had heard this: ‘I only have a twin – but now I will have 800 brothers….’
One boy showed great insight when asked at the interview who he admired the most: ‘Nelson Mandela - because without him, I wouldn’t have most of the friends I have today.’ How could I not put a tick next to his name?
Others decided to put pride in their pocket and wrote: ‘I believe that the Principal is an Arsenal supporter. I have decided to become one as well. Go Arsenal!’
For some, flattery was the order of the day. ‘I have heard that at Wynberg all the teachers have PhD’s.’
My wife was determined that I accept this boy: ‘I just love your dog, Sandy. I really want to get to know him better.’ Well, when he does, he will find out that it is a ‘she’.
One boy let me know exactly where he wanted to go in life: ‘I want to go to Wynberg because my Gramps went there – and he became a wealthy man.’ Now would be a good time to remind him about the ‘Richardson Mauritius Fund’.
Others clutched at straws: ‘If you accept me, I will use the library every day…’ while another said, ‘I will attend extra classes before and after school every day.’You mean just like the current Wynberg boys clamour to do?
One boy was a little disparaging about academics as he presumably did not have his mother check his letter: ‘The reason I would like to go to Wynberg is academics and other small things.’ I hope Mr Eddy does not read that letter - or this one: ‘I want to be an actuary one day but I am only getting 45% now but I know that your teachers will help me reach my goal.’
The last comment from a hopeful applicant must go to this twelve year old who may regret saying this in years to come: ‘There are too many distractions at Primary School. I must get rid of them. You know what I mean, Sir?’
Some of the parental letters were equally moving – and in many cases, amusing:
‘I was so impressed with the boy who was our guide. I wish his mother could have seen him. She would have been so proud.’ I would like to think that could have applied to ANY of our guides!
‘Because I came from a family that was fanatical on sport, I specifically chose a husband who was not interested in sport. Guess what? My son inherited my family’s aptitude for sport. So I am afraid he will just have to go to Wynberg.’
‘It has been an uphill battle to get him to attend other schools’ Open Days.’
‘This is what you will NOT get from my son. He will NOT be a first team rugby player – but he will be your most enthusiastic supporter!’
How can anyone turn a boy down with letters like these? Others let me know in no uncertain terms where I stood:
‘You will have to accept my second son. We are there so often, we might as well pitch a tent.’
‘Your school is one of the best in the country. It will benefit from having my son.’
Again, every boy currently at Wynberg should read this letter and remind themselves why they are at Wynberg: ‘The unfortunate aspect of education in South Africa is that High Schools determine the opportunities we have in life. I want to make sure that my son has a crack at those opportunities.’
I like to hear these types of comment: ‘My daughter was at WGHS. Whenever she brought a Wynberg boy home, I was greeted with a smile and with courtesy.’
‘After listening to the speeches on Open Day, your boys inspire me. They are your biggest assets. I want them to inspire my son next year.’
This expectation certainly puts us under pressure: ‘My son is showing signs of being a teenager. He needs Wynberg.’ Oh dear. But do we need him?
Or this one? ‘My son must go to Wynberg. He is very lazy and will need your teachers to push him.’
I wonder what this parent meant? ‘I really like the fact that the school is clearly under new management. It shows.’ And to think I thought 14 years was quite a long time!
‘I thought Mr Richardson was being a bit rude in the way he described boys and their behaviour ... until I looked down the row and saw my son and his friends, nudging one another, responding to his insights and laughing heartily.’ I must remember at next year’s Open Day to ensure that I am more polite about our boys. The only problem is that they might not recognise themselves!
My final parental comment must go to one of my former Latin pupils, now a Lawyer: ‘You were never able to eradicate my propensity and proclivity for using the split infinitive. I hope that you will make a better job with my son.’
I make no promises. No-one ever said that bringing up boys was about perfection!
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