When I was 11, my parents decided to send me to a private school. They couldn’t afford to: my dad was from a working-class background and it was an “investment”. He had high hopes that private school would lead to the life he never had: a good degree and a stable, well-paying job.
Throughout my childhood, I was acutely aware that they struggled to keep up with the fees and was very conscious that my dad was working in horrendous conditions in dangerous parts of the world for my sake. My mum didn’t work full-time due to previous mental health issues; things always felt on a knife-edge. I was bullied at my new school, nothing extreme, but I was unpopular and became very shy – a stark contrast to my early childhood. I also turned out to be utterly non-academic and was encouraged by the school to pursue a career in the arts (rather than the traditional medicine, law or Stem subjects). This disappointed my dad and made my mum very anxious.
