E really will have to find an alternative curriculum for these bastards,” said a harassed member of the management team. It was a remark combining professional concern with the natural reaction of a human being, and the context was the perceived lack of success in persuading Foundation pupils to work for their less than much- prized certificates.

Foundation certificates were heralded as the solution to the problems of the curriculum, and phrases like “meaningful certification” and “motivational” impetus were frequently heard, especially from those with an eye on promotion. Discipline would improve, for everyone would be working hard. Theft, anarchy and violence soon would be history.

Sadly, the land flowing with milk and honey still lies some distance away. In fact, it is hard to argue against the thesis that introducing Foundation certificates has made matters a hundred times worse, as there is now a straitjacket into which all curricular teaching of the less able must be crammed.

In the old days, the phrase used was “non-certificate”. This did have certain advantages in that pupils who could not do a subject did not have to pursue a course, the end result of which was a certificate which proved that very point - namely that they could not do the said subject! Not only that, but teachers had a certain freedom to devise courses for such pupils, knowing that there was no great expectation on them to produce results.

The basic problem remained, however, in that pupils were at school and would have been far happier doing something else. But the Government had decided in 1972 that the school-leaving age would be raised to 16 (ROSLA), and would brook no contrary argument. “What am I to do with my Roslas?” was the anguished wail in the staffroom.

There is, of course, a very strong argument for terming this Government decision as one of the cruellest in history, but there is no chance politically of it being reversed. It is clear that the answer of how to deal with those pupils must come from within education itself.

In the first place, it should be obvious by now, for example, that watered-down maths and French for pupils who could not do these subjects two years previously is not a very good idea.

Small wonder that there is a considerable amount of consumer resistance to these two non-starters. It is the equivalent of asking someone who has recently suffered a car accident to take part in a Grand Prix.

Such humiliations have their effect on the human psyche, and it is hardly surprising that they manifest themselves in problems of an anti-social nature. Pupils who sit five Highers seldom indulge in vandalism, bullying or drug-taking; those whose educational outcome is seen in terms of Foundation certificates frequently do.

It is facile to say that educational lack of achievement must necessarily and irredeemably lead to crime and delinquency, and many schools will rightly boast about what they have done with their less able pupils. It is time, however, to consider a somewhat more radical and permanent approach to the problem.

We hamstring ourselves by equating education with book learning. This has been successful with many people, especially with those who are now teachers or educationists, but it simply does not apply to everyone. There is surely a time in someone’s educational life when a caring guidance teacher or wise headmaster can say: “It is time to try something else.”

One of the arguments for the comprehensive system was that it prevented pupils from being consigned to the apparently hideous fate of being “hewers of wood and drawers of water”. Yet there are many jobs to be had in the Forestry Commission or the water boards for which academic skills are not applicable.

cademic learning is only a part of a valid educational experience. And it is here that Scottish education awaits its Messiah. We need someone with the vision to outline a suitable non-academic curriculum for those who are not adjusted to the academic experience. There have been many false dawns before, notably Munn and Dunning of the late 1970s, and we must beware of the pitfalls. What is needed is something revolutionary and bold; any attempts at fudge and cover-up will perpetuate and exacerbate the problem.

We could, for example, think along the lines of agriculture and horticulture; we could consider sports and recreation (how many of our non-academic population, for example, play golf?). Child rearing is a crucial yet grossly-ignored part of education; and why not taster courses in things such as carpentry, upholstery and plumbing? The joys of playing a musical instrument remain unknown to many.

What I am suggesting is radical, but it is hardly new. Nor do I really see myself as a John the Baptist figure crying in the wilderness with no one listening. All that is required is an admission that we have got things wrong and that it is time to consider the exploration of other avenues.

Ah, but there we have the rub. Getting someone, particularly in educational politics, to admit that anything has been a failure is by no means easy. It simply does not come naturally. Yet to anyone who thinks that things have not gone awry since 1965, I would invite them to stand outside a Scottish comprehensive as pupils come out at lunch time - or, if they are really brave, to try a walk down a corridor. As Ralph McTell might say, they could see some things to make them change their mind.

David Potter teaches classics and Spanish at Glenrothes High.