Uddingston Grammar School

was forced out of the school during my very first year, and even now, I still carry deep trauma from the experience. Just hearing the school’s name or even driving past it is enough to make my chest tighten and my hands shake. I have PTSD from that place—no exaggeration. It was supposed to be a fresh start, but instead, it turned into the beginning of one of the most painful chapters of my life.

It all started when I was falsely accused of using a disgusting racial slur—someone claimed I called another student a “fucking paki.” I was in shock. I knew I didn’t say that. I told them over and over again that it wasn’t true. But no one listened. No one believed me. Instead, they dragged my name through an investigation that felt more like a witch hunt than a pursuit of truth. Eventually, they found that I hadn’t said it—exactly as I’d told them from the beginning. But the damage had already been done. My mental health was crushed, my trust in the school system obliterated. And did I ever get an apology? Of course not. Just silence. As if it never happened.

But that was just one part of what I went through.

I was bullied every single day. It wasn’t random or occasional—it was relentless. I was targeted for being homosexual. Mocked. Gossiped about. Isolated. Treated like an outsider simply for existing. Every day felt like walking into a battlefield with no armor. The bullying didn’t just come from students—it was ignored by teachers, tolerated by staff, and in some cases, almost encouraged by the culture of silence and denial. I would come home crying nearly every night, mentally exhausted and emotionally drained from pretending I was okay when I wasn’t even close.

Thinking about going to school every morning felt like torture. I would wake up with a sick feeling in my stomach, dreading every second that I had to spend in that building. I used to count the hours until I could leave—until I could breathe again. And even then, the emotional wounds followed me home. That’s not how education is supposed to feel. That’s not how a child should ever feel.

One of the most terrifying moments came when I was threatened with expulsion by one of the heads of year—an older man with a greyish moustache whose name I’ve since blocked out. But I remember his face clearly, and the way he looked at me like I was some kind of problem to be dealt with. Not a student. Not a person. Just an inconvenience. He made me feel like speaking up, defending myself, or even existing was wrong.

I didn’t leave that school—I was pushed out. Emotionally broken, mentally exhausted, and filled with fear and shame that never should’ve been mine to carry. That place didn’t just fail me—it damaged me. It taught me to distrust authority, to hide who I am, and to expect the worst from people in power.

If you’re a parent reading this: do not send your child there. I wouldn’t wish what I went through on anyone. That school does not protect its students. It turns a blind eye to bullying. It ignores cries for help. It allows prejudice to fester and trauma to form. No child should have to survive their education. No child should wake up every day terrified to walk through the gates of a school.

I deserved better. Every student does.

Was bullied, picked on and tormented here to the point of self harm, and the people (pupil support) who should have defended me favoured the bully, and instead of giving him the punishment necessary, they gave him an award for being an "exceptional pupil" whilst I was put to the side.
I was by no means a bad pupil - I behaved well and done the work ( despite being known for mental health problems) but the favouritism from teachers and members of staff is absolutely disgusting and it caused me to leave half way through my 5th year.

They made my son eat chocolate and orange juice when he is lactose and intolerant on poverty week and threatened him a detention after school. This is unacceptable behaviour and shouldn’t be threatening an s1

five stars for samantha smart 😛😛😛😛😛