The Kent Test results came out this week – a defining moment in any child’s life, if for no other reason than it determines which school you’ll be attending for the next few years.

Grammar schools, not surprisingly, are held in high regard among parents. Whether it is perception over reality, they see the places as a hotbed of learning and a stepping stone to a more successful life.

They are, in most cases, absolutely correct. Not to mention that any parent worth their salt wants their child to have the best possible start – regardless, normally, of their politics on the issue.

Putting aside the rights and wrongs of the selective system – and bear in mind Kent is one of the very few places in the country where it still exists – there is a compelling argument that determining such a key aspect of your life by sitting an exam when you’re 10 is too much too young.

But it wasn’t always that way across the county.

I sat the Kent Test (or plain old 11-plus as it was back then) back in 1983 when I lived in Tunbridge Wells. I failed it, I’m not ashamed to say.

Shortly afterwards, we moved to the east of the county where the 11-plus wasn’t a thing. Instead, everyone went to a comprehensive for the first two years of secondary before sitting the imaginatively named 13-plus.

We were all a little older, a little more sophisticated in our learning methods. The results were also different, too. You either got a pass, a fail, or a third option – ‘undecided’.

Needless to say, I once again failed to get a pass, but I did get option three. This was basically seen as an opportunity for parents to put a compelling case to teachers in the hope they would approve them for a grammar place.

In short, if the education system was convinced that the pupil was going to be pushed to do their homework and excel in exams, then they’d take a punt on them.

My mother’s persuasive skills worked a treat and by the skin of my teeth I snuck into a grammar.

So did I benefit from selective education?

Well, I left my comprehensive top of my class in pretty much all topics (with the exception, funnily enough, of English, where in one memorable school report my teacher described me as having a “limited vocabulary”. Ruddy cheek. But, bizarrely, it spurred me on to prove them wrong. To spite them may be a better description).

Eventually I emerged from a grammar with a measly number of GCSEs (although with top marks for English – take that, former teacher) and a disillusionment with the selective system. The minute I mentioned I was considering opting to leave at 16 and head to college to pursue a journalism A-level course, they washed their hands of me.

All of which suggests that grammar education isn’t for everyone. I’m not convinced it was for me. Yes, there are plenty of what ifs and maybes, but if my confidence levels had stayed as high as they had at the comprehensive, I suspect my ultimate GCSE outcomes may have been better.

I’d argue, however, an exam at 13 - when you’re far more aware of the implications for your education - is a far better option.

So if you missed out on a grammar spot, don’t despair. Use it to inspire you to prove them all wrong, buckle down, work hard and all life’s rewards can still be yours.