OUR Deputy Prime Minister is still haunted by his failure to pass the 11-plus exam.

In a recent interview, John Prescott recited the story of how he first tasted humiliation and class divisions as a young boy when his then girlfriend passed the test and left him behind.

"The message was that suddenly you are less than they are," he said.

"It tends to leave you with an inferiority complex."

Other high profile 11-plus failures include Lord Stevens, the former Metropolitan Police Commissioner and the former Archbishop of Canterbury, Lord Carey.

The thinking behind the dreaded exam, which was phased out of most schools by the mid-1970s following the introduction of the comprehensive system, is again the subject of hot political debate.

Serious fears have been raised - not least by Prescott - that Government plans for self-governing "trust" schools, which would control their own admission policy, could herald a return to the "first-class/second-class" system. In other words, selection by ability.

I felt Prescott's pain last week after taking the BBC's online version of the 11-plus exam to see if I would make the grade today. I didn't.

The relief I feel at being spared the real thing in my final year of primary school is palpable. The test was not designed for those of us who are innumerate. Angles, simple fractions and basic algebra made up a fair chunk of the 11-plus, but remain gobbledegook to me.

My first school must take some of the blame, I feel.

It was small, progressive in nature, and fun, but inadequate, I see now, at teaching the basic three Rs.

Its special needs facility, where my maths deficiencies should have been ironed out, consisted of a small side room where I was left to daydream and flick paper balls.

Ironically, it is now one of the most respected schools in York with parents clamouring to get their children taught there.

As an experiment, I persuaded my friend's ten-year-old son, Eddie, one of the lucky ones, to take the online 11-plus. He comfortably beat my score and I've no doubt would have been among the 25 per cent of pupils nationally who went on to grammar school.

Of course, not everyone is as capable or interested as Eddie at his age. Selection by ability does not give enough scope for potential improvement.

Reading, writing and arithmetic were way down on my list of priorities as a snotty 11-year-old. The three Ps were far more vital: perfecting that curling free-kick, Panini football stickers and pursuing Sarah Jameson.

Our comprehensive system worked for me - eventually.

Those who argue that children are too often held back by weaker or disruptive pupils have my sympathy. I revelled in being the class clown, but hampered those who wanted to learn.

I bumped into an old science teacher in a bar recently and bought him a beer as a way of apologising for his grey hair. We reminisced about the time I drank some potentially-poisonous rock salt in his lesson. There was talk of getting my stomach pumped.

Time nearly ran out for me at school until I had what they call a "defining moment".

It wasn't until my headmaster summoned me to his office for "a quiet word" that I was stirred into action.

"It is quite clear Matthew that studying A-levels is well beyond you," he told me, in what could have been a deliberate motivating tactic.

"You haven't got what it takes and I suggest you consider other options."

I went home in a rage, fuming that he had written me off.

In my bedroom I pinned up the message "prove him wrong" and worked like a trooper from then on, just scraping home with enough GCSEs to get into sixth-form college.

John Prescott, to his great credit, eventually turned his life around after leaving a secondary modern school at 15 with no qualifications. He went on to attend Ruskin College, Oxford, and then the University of Hull, before becoming an MP in 1970.

For all his achievements, though, there are those who can't see beyond his wayward use of the English language and the time he spent as a ship's steward. To Prescott, it's a legacy of what happened to him at 11. No wonder he's got a chip.

On the other hand he proved it's never too late to get an education.

By the way, what is the square root of 64?

Updated: 08:38 Friday, January 06, 2006