When I was 18, I went off on my gap year to a typical American high school. When I got my end-of-term report, I sent it to my parents with glee. I had scored nearly 100% for almost every subject; the teachers had nothing but praise for my efforts.

At last! A report which realised how naturally brilliant I was, which failed to mention my lackadaisical approach to work, and which took no notice of my last-minute mentality. "This report is meaningless," said my father when he read it.

Twenty-five years on, it is a view which some might level at British education. All my children are at a state primary school and as far I can tell, from reports and feedback from teachers, are doing brilliantly across the board. But are they child geniuses? Not really, but they are enthusiastic and the school wants to encourage, rather than drill them.

"Good Work" assemblies will praise a pop song as highly as a Beethoven piano etude. It might have been meaningless at the age of 18, but at primary level, this is wholly appropriate. Children should be praised for any spark of creativity. They have enough more than enough time in the future to "knuckle down and get on with hard work", as my father might put it.

From the evidence of the out-of-school classes that I pay for, the bar in the private sector is much higher, and the "right to fail" completely absent. My five-year-old goes to a ballet class where turning up with the wrong type of sleeve on your leotard is frowned upon. Students have to arrive on time, keep time, know how to do Good Toes and Naughty Toes, and focus on doing their steps. There are grades to pass and standards to reach. The teacher expects it, and more importantly, so do all the "helicopter parents" who bring in their little girls, each entirely clad in baby pink.

Meanwhile my 10-year-old, who took her Grade 5 in piano on Friday, has a music teacher who also demands the highest level of application. Written notes each week tell me in no small measure what has, or has not been learnt, and what will be expected of my daughter in subsequent weeks. It is unremitting, and the scale of F minor is very difficult, but she has yet to fail an exam.

Her private tutor for school subjects was cut of the same cloth; the work was set, it was marked, and if she got it wrong, there were no half-measures. As he said: "Maths is not guesswork." And this is the problem: parents worried that their children might be coasting along in an undemanding system where you will be praised no matter what, and who can afford it, will seek out the contrasting service in the private sector. The mortal battle to get your child into a decent secondary school means that parents are practically whipping their children over almost impossible hurdles.

Forget about weedy old Grade 5 — one exam for this year's entry into a state selective school demanded 10-year-old children answer 100 questions in 40 minutes. Another put the pass mark for its entrance exam at 92%. No little emperors, these, but children white-faced with worry about screwing up their futures.

Can't we just have a happy medium?

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