IN his latest contribution on this page (TESS, October 4), Joe Farrell has once again advanced the proposition that young Scots leave secondary schools with “impoverished knowledge”. Professor Farrell produces no evidence for this assertion although in previous contributions to the debate on standards he has asserted that he bases his argument on the performance of students coming to his modern languages department from comprehensive schools. Indeed, he has singled out the demise of formal, Latinate grammar and the dilution of rigorous methods of historical investigation as pointers to the drop in standards.

Let us examine the case for falling standards. It is alleged that the study of history has been replaced by projects and that grammar has been replaced by free expression as part of a plot to lower standards, under the guise of comprehensivisation. However, it was generally acknowledged in the 1960s that there was a need to reject elitism of the kind exemplified in T S Eliot’s dictum that the function of schooling is to “preserve the class and select the elite” (1948).

But, although comprehensive schools took root in Scotland with few of the difficulties experienced in the rest of the UK, and have been successful to the present day, there has remained a strong and vocal opposition to their fundamental egalitarian ideal.

The key question is: “What evidence is there that educational standards have fallen?” That they have changed is not in question. But have they fallen? My son, now in fifth year in Duncanrig Secondary in East Kilbride, is the beneficiary of modern methods. Chris’s mental arithmetic may be a little slower than his dad’s and he may not be able to define litotes or synecdoche, but his education to date has been superior in many respects to mine. Not only has he benefited from the opportunity to play musical instruments, in his case the piano, clarinet and saxophone, but he has had a breadth of experiences from primary through to secondary school which I did not have.

His education has also been rigorous. He studied history in a way which has involved the interrogation of primary sources - a far cry from my memorisation of dates of battles and of kings and queens. However, it is in my own discipline of English language and literature where his experience and Professor Farrell’s prejudices are most at odds.

I parsed, generally analysed and took down dictated notes on a whole range of “great works”. I divided my jotter page in half and, guided by the teacher, annotated line by line L’Allegro and Il Penseroso. I learnt soliloquies by heart and was quite secure in my knowledge that the gerundive always took the possessive.

Now, a generation later, at the age of 15, Chris is doing Kafka for his Higher personal study, is studying Hamlet and is writing personal responses to challenging 20th century short stories. Personally, I wasn’t asked to respond personally to literature until university - and it was quite a culture shock, I can tell you.

I’ll never forget the day back in the 1960s when the trendy young lecturer distributed photocopies of Philip Larkin’s Mr Bleaney, asked us to read it and then asked: “What do you think?” I didn’t know where to start.

What we need to realise is that the world is changing and that remembrances of things past are no substitute for critical analysis. The challenges of the 21st century are different from those of the 20th. Not only is my son computer literate but he has views on the world around him - from the impending war on Iraq to global warming. He has taken part in two school shows, performed in several school concerts and been in the public speaking team. In other words, he has had a broad, challenging and modern educational experience and would, I am sure, take exception to the claim that he has “impoverished knowledge”.

here Professor Farrell is correct is in his argument that examinations have distorted the educational process. Chris’s school allows pupils to study up to five Higher subjects and, bowing to Government pressure to improve results, has allocated six periods a week to each subject. Given that the school week is 30 periods, it does not take a mathematician to work out that Chris and his peers do nothing other than academic work each week during the school day.

Is this really education in its widest sense, or an enforced production line, geared to meeting the targets of the Scottish Executive Education Department? Are these the only targets which are of value?

Bemoaning falling standards is rarely productive unless there is a clear consensus on what these standards should be. I am convinced that Chris is receiving a good education in Duncanrig Secondary and I would refute the claim that we are entering a “post-comprehensive era”. Impoverished is not a word I would ever use to describe Chris or the knowledge he has amassed in his time at school. I would put my money on him and his contemporaries being able to acquit themselves well in a debate with Professor Farrell and his peers.

Perhaps we need to examine the impact of 25 years of accountability-led policies in Scottish education and ask if the dominance of examination results as a measure of success has improved pupils’ learning or not. I have a feeling that the role of the universities in propping up the exam system may need to be part of that examination.

Dr Brian Boyd is a former secondary headteacher and is currently reader in education at Strathclyde University.