The Times: I went to private school but don't call me privileged

I always feel sheepish admitting I went to private school. I fear people will judge me as posh, rich and privileged. But, any family who has invested in private education will tell you the reality is much more nuanced.

Putting two kids through private school cost my dad his house — and almost bankrupted my
mum. 

My parents worked full-time and earned well. But after getting divorced, resources had further to stretch. Two houses… and twice all that came with it.

They considered taking my sister and me out of the private system. But opted for stability
and structure to buffer disruption at home. So, they struggled on yet it came at a cost. 

When our current Government decided to impose 20 per cent VAT on private school fees from January 2025, there was an implication that parents could just shoulder the cost. If families can already pay the thousands of pounds in school fees, what’s a few thousand more? 

But we are beginning to see that is not the case. Figures from the Independent Schools Council last week showed the number of children at private schools has dropped by 30,000 since January 2025. News of private schools closing are now being reported on a near-weekly basis.

With a government so nakedly hostile to private education, it’s no surprise students who benefited from it are beginning to feel like targets. A study by the Higher Education Policy Institute (HEPI) this week found university students who went to private school are significantly more likely to fear being cancelled than their state-educated peers. 

But my story is proof that a private education and privilege are too often oversimplified.

Growing up, my family’s persistent financial stress was a major source of trauma. I remember my helpless anxiety as final demand bills piled on the kitchen table – my mum sobbing because she didn’t know how she was going to pay them. Her on the phone to the bank to arrange another balance transfer. Worrying which credit card would get declined at the checkout for the weekly shop.

Fortunately, my parents were baby boomers with property. This meant they were sitting on a gold mine. It was the late nineties to early noughties. The halcyon days where a homeowner only needed to sneeze to make 10-15 per cent year-on-year on their house.

Month by month, term by term, the deficit between income and outgoings grew. They’d scrape by using overdrafts, loans and credit cards. Until they could remortgage again and use equity to clear the debt. Rinse and repeat. 

This was at a time when private school fees were still ‘vaguely’ affordable for a professional family. I attended Notting Hill & Ealing High School for Girls and when I started in 1992 it cost in the region of £4,000 per year. By the time my sister left in 2009, it was £12,000. 

Now, it’s £30,000. In the early 1990s, two children at a school like mine might have cost roughly three-quarters of a typical household’s annual disposable income, according to data from the Office for National Statistics. A stretch… but doable. By 2009, it swallowed more like an entire household’s disposable income. In 2026, it is approaching 160 per cent of median household disposable income — and that’s tuition only. 

Over the past 20 years, living standards simply haven’t kept pace with fee inflation. Making private school out of reach for even an ‘above average’ family to afford. 

Unless you’re doing very well for yourself, live on baked beans and never go on holiday, or – quids in – have family money.

My eldest daughter starts Reception in September. Although my husband and I both attended private school, we decided against it for primary. To say “we can’t afford it” only tells half the story. We can’t – but it’s a conscious choice.

Growing up, I looked longingly at the children whose mother was there to collect them at the school gates. Who took them to clubs. Armed with snacks. Did homework. My parents were so busy providing, they were less present for the everyday minutiae.

Every parent strives to correct the mistakes of their own upbringing. In my case, that means prioritising being around. To send two daughters to private school, we’d need £100,000 of pre-tax family income per year just to cover the fees. 

Seven years ago, I was a senior executive for a food delivery company and earning £60,000. But I decided to quit when I was 30 to start up my own training consultancy.

Had I stayed on the corporate career ladder, my husband and I would likely have earned enough to cover private school. But I’d be sacrificing precious time with my kids. And probably my sanity. 

That’s not a price we’re willing to pay. Because there’s something more important than a good education… and that’s love. The research is clear: one of the most important investments we can make in our children is quality time. So, I run my business part-time to allow me to be present for them. 

Of course, there are still ways to ‘game’ the system. You can “pray, not pay”. Buy into the catchment area of a good state school. Commit to extra tuition. And there are many good reasons why hardworking parents continue to make sacrifices to send their kids private, like SEND provision. 

But for our children, we’re betting on something else: that available, relaxed, fulfilled parents matter more than going to the best school.

Alice ter Haar is founder of Badass Unicorn, a training consultancy inspiring teams at brands like Google and L’Oreal. Her TEDx – “Love: a Super-Privilege” is out now.