HOW tiny they look, swamped in their new uniforms, and gripping mum or dad’s hand as they head for the school gates. Photos were flying around yesterday of our family’s five-year-olds embarking on their first day behind a desk. One was as dinky as a Christmas tree angel in her pleated skirt and shiny shoes, albeit not as quiet. The other looked preternaturally grown-up in his red tie and blazer, although a glint in his eye suggests there’s fun and games and possibly even fireworks on the horizon.

For the moment, however, all rockets are aimed squarely at John Swinney and his policy of examining Primary One pupils’ literacy and numeracy. As the ruckus gathers momentum, it’s easy to see why people are vexed. Introduced last year as part of the Scottish National Standardised Assessments, the test is designed to measure levels of attainment as early as the ages of five or six. Made up of two 45-minute sessions, in which questions are tailored to the child – the harder they find them, the easier the questions become, and vice versa – the results are not marked for pass or fail. There is no legal requirement to take the test but the Government sees it as an important tool in addressing the gulf between those who have a privileged start, and those who will struggle from the beginning.

Watching the new intake piling into school with satchels on their backs, like so many ladybirds, you can’t help wondering how anyone this junior can be expected to concentrate long enough to do an exam. Not surprisingly, stories of those reduced to tears at the experience are fuelling the furore, meaning the debate has become far too emotional. The most vocal protestors, Upstart Scotland, is producing postcards for parents of Primary One children to send to head teachers excusing them from the test. At least one parents’ group, and a couple of charities such as Play Scotland are also against the idea, and the main teachers’ union, the EIS, is considering a boycott.

With so much opposition, it is hard to see how the Education Secretary can hold the line. It wouldn’t surprise me if, as I write, Mr Swinney is rehearsing his rethink, while dabbing arnica on his bruises. Should he stay firm, with feelings running this high, pupils will pick up on parents’ anxiety, and even if they take part, the tests will already be compromised.

Nobody can bear the thought of a stressed or unhappy child. Yet without some indication of who is off to a flying start and who is at a disadvantage, how can the life chances of the least flourishing be improved? These tests are not, as I understand, about school league tables or pupil prestige. They can’t be revised for or swotted up. Unlike exams in later years, they are not an inquisition but an illumination. As such they represent the first of several intervention points intended to provide support and care for children who require a bit, or a lot, of focused help.

How urgently some need it. There are children who reach school with such limited vocabulary, they can barely hold a conversation. At the other end of the spectrum are those who are book worms, able to recite their favourite stories word for word. Perhaps they are even reading or counting, all thanks to the school of mum and dad. Meanwhile, the most common denominator behind an underperforming child is deprivation. Since this can include lack of time spent with a parent or carer encouraging these skills, part of the point of assessing attainment is not only to involve professionals like teachers but to include the pupil’s family. Showing them enjoyable relaxed ways of stimulating their child’s understanding can work wonders. But the longer it takes for a school formally to step in and help, the deeper and more intractable the gap to be closed.

We should be under no illusions about the scale of the problem. Literacy and numeracy in our society is nothing to be proud of. For a nation that has always been complacent about our supposed educational superiority, we are far from perfect. More than a quarter of adults admit to finding some elements of reading, writing and counting challenging, while levels of literacy and numeracy in our schools have been gradually declining. No wonder Nicola Sturgeon – wisely or not wisely – has made improving educational standards her flagship policy.

To listen to the backlash, though, you would think the P1 test is intended to instil fear and division. Well-meaning, if possibly misguided, its purpose instead is to take a snapshot. Along with teachers down the centuries, Mr Swinney recognises that when it comes to early learning, some children have been on starvation rations from the day they were born, many have had a less than balanced diet, and others are brimful with vitamins by the time they bounce up the school steps. What is the answer to these disparities, and the futures they all too accurately predict? That’s the hardest question of all, and no one has yet answered it correctly.