Reflect
Last Saturday was results day for parents across Northern Ireland, a date that quietly carries enormous weight in many households. From early morning, inboxes were refreshed, phones checked and conversations suspended in anticipation of a single email. Few parents will have slept well the night before.
For some, the waiting would have stirred memories of their own childhood. For others, it would have been a new and unfamiliar anxiety. Either way, the knowledge was the same: within a few lines of text lay news that could shape the next stage of their child’s education, and perhaps, in their minds at least, their future.
The 11+ (referred to as the “Transfer Test” these days) has a way of concentrating emotion. It reduces months, sometimes years, of preparation into one short examination and one brief message. For the children, it is often their first encounter with real academic pressure, the first time they are asked to perform not simply for a mark, but for an outcome that seems permanent. For parents, it is something else again, a mixture of pride, fear, hope, guilt, and the uncomfortable sense that far more is riding on this moment than feels fair to place on an eleven-year-old.
As someone who was once an 11+ pupil myself, I found myself thinking about all of this as the day approached. I thought about the children sitting at kitchen tables opening emails, trying to read their parents’ faces before they even understood the words on the screen. I thought about the parents standing behind them, rehearsing reassurance in case the result was not what they had hoped for, and celebration in case it was. And I thought about how strange it is that so many of us, decades later, can still remember our own results day with such clarity.
Yet for some families, the real challenge begins after the email has been opened and the first reactions have settled. Not every child will see the school they hoped for, or the name of a friend beside their own on a class list. For a small number, the disappointment may feel sharper still, like a quiet grief for something they had imagined so clearly and now must let go.
This is often the first time a child encounters the idea that effort does not always guarantee outcome, that life can redirect them without explanation. They may struggle to articulate what they are feeling: sadness, anger, embarrassment, or a fear of being left behind. Some will put on a brave face, others will cry, and some will say nothing at all, carrying the weight silently because they do not want to add to their parents’ worry.
What matters most in these moments is not finding the right words but offering steady presence. To listen without rushing to fix, to acknowledge that disappointment is real and valid, and to resist the temptation to minimise it with well-meaning assurances that “it will all work out”. Children need to hear that their worth has not changed, that one result does not define their ability, their character, or the life that lies ahead of them.
Parents can gently remind them that friendships are not confined to one building, that new friendships will form, and that many paths lead to fulfilling futures. More importantly, they can show, through patience and calm, that setbacks are survivable and that uncertainty does not have to mean failure. In doing so, they offer something far more enduring than any school place: the confidence that they are supported, valued, and never face disappointment alone.
In years to come, few will remember the precise wording of the email they opened last Saturday. But many will remember how they were comforted, how they were spoken to, and how they learned, perhaps for the first time, that even when plans change, they are still safe, still capable, and still moving forward.
When I think of two people I know personally (who in their own words, “failed” the 11+), the word itself begins to lose its meaning. One went to a school she had not originally wanted just five years ago and is now Deputy Head Girl and the recipient of a music scholarship to a prestigious senior school at sixteen. The other went on to become an Emeritus Professor at Cambridge and even mentions her 11+ result in her biography.
I, too, have been that little girl who barely passed the 11+, who sobbed on GCSE results day when my own underperformance felt painfully exposed, and who later failed a university exam, when the stakes were far higher and the disappointment far deeper. None of those moments defined the life that followed them. They shaped me, perhaps, but they did not limit me.
That is what I hope parents and children alike might remember in the days after results arrive. This moment feels enormous because it is the first of its kind, not because it is the last word on anything. Paths rarely unfold in straight lines. Futures are not decided by a single morning, a single score, or a single school.
Long after the anxiety of last Saturday has faded, what will matter most is not where a child went at eleven, but how they learned to face uncertainty, to recover from disappointment, and to believe that they are more than any examination result. If we can give them that, we will have given them something far more valuable than a place at any school.
Motivate
Facing other children when you have done well, or perhaps not so well, can bring its own quiet difficulties. In the days after results, classrooms and playgrounds quickly fill with questions: What did you get? Where are you going? Did you pass? Such questions are often asked out of curiosity rather than cruelty, but for a child still trying to make sense of their own feelings, they can land heavily.
The pain can be particularly acute when close friends have done better, or when sympathy is offered in ways that feel awkward, public, or exposing.
It may help children to know that they are not obliged to share more than they wish. They can be given permission to keep their answers brief and kind to themselves: “I’m happy with where I’m going,” “My family and I are pleased with my school,” or simply, “I’d rather not talk about it just now.” Learning that it is acceptable to set these small boundaries is, in itself, an important part of growing up.
At the same time, those who have received the news they hoped for can be gently reminded of the power their words carry. A casual question, an enthusiastic comparison, or an off-hand remark can deepen a friend’s disappointment without meaning to. Celebrating quietly, avoiding lists and scores, and choosing phrases such as, “Well done, I’m really pleased for you” rather than, “What did you get?”, helps to keep friendships intact at a moment when they feel fragile. Success, handled with humility, becomes a gift rather than a dividing line.
There is also a role here for adults, certainly in modelling the tone we hope children will adopt. When parents resist the urge to ask for details in front of others, to compare outcomes, or to turn results into public conversation, they send a powerful message about what truly matters. When teachers acknowledge achievement without ranking it, and speak of many different kinds of success, they create spaces where no child feels reduced to a single score.
If we can encourage children to meet one another in these days with discretion, respect and empathy, we give them something far more enduring than any academic result. We teach them how to hold success without arrogance, how to face disappointment without shame, and how to protect friendships at moments when they are most easily bruised. Long after the numbers have been forgotten, these lessons, about kindness, dignity and care for one another, will be the ones that last.
Support
In the days after results, when emotions are still raw and futures feel suddenly uncertain, it can be a quiet comfort to return to the small certainties of ordinary family life. At a time when so much seems to hinge on a single outcome, there is something deeply reassuring in the steady rhythm of familiar routines.
Breakfast is still made, school bags are still packed, siblings still argue over the television remote and the dog still waits by the door to be walked. These simple patterns remind children, often more powerfully than words can, that the foundations of their world remain unchanged. Consistency and predictability become gentle antidotes to anxiety, restoring a sense of safety when the bigger picture feels unsettled and fragile.
After months of preparation, tension and anticipation, children benefit from being allowed to put the weight of expectation down for a while. Shared laughter at the dinner table, a spontaneous trip for ice cream, a board game pulled from the cupboard, or an afternoon spent kicking a ball in the garden can all serve as quiet acts of repair. These moments do not erase disappointment, but they soften its edges. They remind a child that life is larger than this result, that joy has not been cancelled, and that there are still many reasons to feel hopeful and connected.
For parents, this can mean consciously choosing to protect pockets of normality in the days that follow. It may mean resisting the urge to analyse every detail of the outcome, to revisit the paper, or to speculate endlessly about what might have been done differently. It may mean postponing difficult conversations until emotions have settled, and allowing space for distraction, rest and play. In doing so, parents communicate something vital: that their child is not under scrutiny, that they are not a project to be fixed, but a person who is valued and secure, whatever the next step may be.
Over time, these ordinary, gentle acts of care help children to regulate their feelings and regain perspective. They learn, often without realising it, that uncertainty can be held within a stable, loving environment, and that disappointment does not have to overwhelm everything else. In the long run, it is these experiences of safety, humour and continuity that build resilience. Long after the result itself has faded into memory, the child will remember that, at a moment when the future felt frightening, home remained a place of calm, warmth and belonging.
Are you a Tooled Up member?
Whether you are the parent of a child who has just received their 11+ result, or the parent of a child who will embark on the process in coming years, we have plenty of supportive resources on the Tooled Up platform. For starters, have a look at:
Early Conversations About The 11+: Advice for Parents of Children Aged 7-9
Helping Children Deal with Disappointment if They Aren’t Offered Their First Choice School