Why are boys falling behind at school?

Simon Kuper and Emma Jacobs $$:

Matt Smith, acting headteacher of Huntington School in York, is teaching a maths class. He projects a circle with three sectors on to the whiteboard. How many degrees is each sector? Twelve boys and girls, aged 15 and 16, in blue uniforms with knotted ties, stare at the board. It’s 10am on a rainy Tuesday in December, the sort of day that almost anyone who ever went to school will remember. 

Huntington is a comprehensive school whose 1,532 pupils (almost all classified as “white British”) range from professors’ kids to children from a poor housing estate. The school has playing fields and tennis courts but is mostly a collection of unremarkable 1960s buildings. 

Smith, not quite 40, is a tall, upright, serious figure. Today he is working the room like a performer on stage, scanning faces to make sure everyone is focusing. About once a minute he asks a question. Most of the time several hands go up, even from the two boys in the back row. There is no whispering. 

We now have growing scientific evidence to replace old biological superstitions. Grey matter in female brains develops faster, says Jay Giedd, psychiatrist at the University of California San Diego. Because girls mature earlier, they are given more books sooner, and learn more. Sexism may encourage this: parents often stereotype girls as quiet readers, and boys as rambunctious adventurers. 

Either way, boys fall behind in school and get discouraged. There is evidence that they lose motivation in class from age eight. Smith says that when 11-year-olds arrive at Huntington, “the vocabulary gap between boys and girls is striking”. Many boys enjoy reading for information but struggle with the fiction that is central to schoolwork. The literacy gap peaks at about 16, when boys are often at their most dysfunctional — just when decisions about post-school destinations are being taken.