ALL CHANGE FOR EDUCATION SINCE THE CLASS OF '77

TODAY I take part in the big student debate with Edinburgh Students Association at the wonderful McEwan Hall. There will be a load of politicians present and I am the comedy warm-up.

I don't really know how you warm up politicians, but I am sure my idea of it may be illegal and positively painful.

It's not your average comedy gig, and I am sure I can bring comrade Tommy Sheridan into at least three of the punchlines.

Here's hoping the students give the people in power a good roasting; there is nothing better than watching the young turks "give it laldy" to the stuffed shirts and blether merchants from Holyrood.

Education is a main theme with our top politicians. All parties want to reduce class sizes.

2020 will see Scotland have the world's best education system, according to Jack McConnell, the First Minister.

He says he will create new skills academies, establish literacy and numeracy tests, increase modern languages and science teaching in our primary schools and change the law so that every 16 and 17-year-old takes part in full-time education or training.

Debating the current state of education will be immensely interesting for me, as I left school at 16 because I had no shoes. My mammy was pretty poor and things were tough in 1977. Yet I did love learning.

I was good at school and was about to take six O-levels.

When I think back to my days at Eastbank Academy in Shettleston, I shudder at the fact they never allowed us to wear trousers and girls weren't allowed to play football - and those were the two things I loved as a tomboy.

Education has a whole new approach since I was a teenager.

Teachers are scared to voice opinions or show any form of affection and are bound over by rules about restraining violent pupils. They are scared for their lives and those of their families if any confrontational situations come up.

In my day, the maths teacher whacked you on the head with a ruler if you chatted; nowadays kids would be organising a hit on the poor man or taking mobile phone photos and sending them to the local newspaper with the promise of an exclusive interview after they have called their PR person to meet them at the tuck shop.

State schools have improved, although I chose a different route when picking a school for my daughter opting to educate her privately. That rankled with some of the locals in my area.

I wanted to send her somewhere she would meet children from other ethnic backgrounds. She would enjoy smaller classes and belong to a community that would last her beyond her school years and give her a real feeling of belonging. I also assumed my decision benefited the local kids as I naively believed the cash set aside by our government for my daughter's education would be spent on another child.

That was never the case, despite thousands of Scottish parents opting out of the state education system, inner-city schools still struggled. Where was the cash going?

I know it wasn't spent in our local state school; we had to have charity nights to help pay for the equipment and run raffles to fund school trips.

The best thing the state can do for our education system is to make sure that every pupil gets to shine in their own way. Every single child should be allowed to flourish and not be held back because of performance, religion, colour or culture.

I know paying for that privilege isn't an option for everyone, so it should be available to anyone who needs it.

MY DAUGHTER, Ashley, hasn't quite forgiven me for stating in this column last week that she can't get a boyfriend.

"I can get a boyfriend, it's when they find out that you are my mother they just run a mile. They are scared you will make fun of them on stage," she whined. "And you are really sarcastic."

I know she is right, to an extent, but the real reason she stays single is the state of her bedroom.

Picture the house from Trainspotting mixed with the front room from Steptoe and Son and you are nearly there.

There is a guitar in the corner and tights lying around like dead black snakes. It looks like the room Jimi Hendrix died in.

I'm sure she did have a boyfriend, but he got lost in the room and hasn't emerged since.

SOCK AND AWE ON MOTHER'S DAY

I AM lucky enough to have had two wonderful mums in my lifetime.

Yesterday was Mother's Day and I sent my lovely step-mum some flowers. She is such a great influence in my life.

My birth mother died in 1982; she was called Annie; and she has a great sense of humour.

She had a big mangy Alsatian dog and it once managed to get a whole light bulb in its mouth.

Annie dragged it into the bar where I worked to share this dilemma with me and the guys in the pub laughed at her attempts to get the bulb out of the stupid dog's mouth.

Mammy slipped off her sock, dropped a snooker ball from the pub's table into it and simply whacked the big dog in the nether regions.

It dropped the bulb and a few men dropped their attitude.

I think I get my balls from Annie.

SHOP TILL HE DROPS

I WENT shopping yesterday.

As I browsed the skirts, there was a woman standing in a new coat and her husband commented on the colour and cut of the garment.

He even suggested accessories that would match the fabric.

Where do women get these men from? I am not putting my man down, but he has no real interest in this area.

My husband makes great soup, does a wonderful delicate hand-wash and can also iron better than Jeeves the butler.

However, shopping and spending scare him.

He once squawked in a supermarket aisle over the price of the store's own-brand mascara.

He actually shouted: "Why do women need to make their eyelashes clumpy and black then wipe it off four hours later? That's a waste of money."

He then turned and smiled at some women who were standing nearby.

"Don't wear make-up, you only wash it off," he announced loudly.

I may hide the remote control for the TV again; it's always fun watching him spending hours searching for it.