So the troof is out. Teachers really have been told not to correct all pupils’ spelling errors.

MP Andrew Selous discovered the practice at a secondary school in his Bedfordshire constituency, whose marking policy is that “Teaching staff are not to highlight any more than three incorrect spellings on any piece of work. This is in order that the children’s self-confidence is not damaged”.

It is widespread. Three years ago I visited a secondary school in Brighton and Hove and, invited to examine Year 9 pupils’ work books, came across the word 'togaver' several times. It took me a few seconds to translate this as ‘together’ and a few more seconds to realise that throughout the book not once had it been corrected.

I challenged the teacher to explain, and the reply was that “they simply don’t have time to correct every spelling mistake”.

And when I pointed out that this 14-year-old pupil could theoretically be leaving school in two years and her chances of getting a job could be seriously jeopardised by an illiterate CV, the teacher laughed incredulously and said: “They don’t need to write out a CV any more – they do it on a computer and the computer corrects their spelling for them."

Not surprisingly, my computer tells me that ‘togaver’ is ‘not in the dictionary’, posing a huge problem for the pupil, who probably doesn’t even know what a dictionary is.

The shocking fact is that this pupil had been in the state education system for nine years and not a single teacher, or her parents, had taught her how to spell an easy and commonly used English word.

As Mr Selous points out, it’s a false kindness to children and it’s a policy that’s letting them down. Language is a common denominator that links a group of people and enables those within that group to communicate, even if they are separated geographically or because of a variety of local dialects.

There is a difference between the spoken word and the written word – and it is the written word that is understood by everyone who uses that particular language.

The spoken word has many accents, sometimes so extreme it is unintelligible to a stranger, and when a writer deliberately spells English wrongly to illustrate a character’s origin, it needs translating.

The best example is the servant Joseph in Wuthering Heights: “There's nobbutt t’ missis; and shoo’ll not oppen ‘t an ye mak’ yer flaysome dins till neeght."

That’s pure Yorkshire, and it’s like another language – you have to unravel it word by word before you can even begin to understand the full meaning of the sentence.

If Emily Bronte had instead written: “There’s nobody but the mistress, and she’ll not open it for you if you make your frightening din till night”, all English speakers would understand it immediately.

Perhaps Shakespeare would never have achieved greatness if he had written lines like “A rows by any other name would smell as sweet”, and Mr Rochester would certainly not have had “a quiet wedding” to Jane Eyre if Charlotte Bronte had written “Reader, I marred him”.

His future would suddenly have looked very different.

It is a national and generational tragedy that spelling is considered so unimportant when it is one of the most basic skills adults can give children. We correct their speech as they get older, not only to say ‘hold’ rather than ‘old’, but we also encourage them to swap their toddler language, say, ‘mook’, for the correct word ‘milk’.

It is the duty of parents and, even more so, teachers to teach correct English, both written and spoken. It is high on the list of priorities of grammar schools and private schools, and it is these schools that are producing the movers and the shakers of this country.

David Cameron went to Eton. Nick Clegg went to Westminster School. Sir Mervyn King, the Governor of the Bank of England, was a grammar school boy.

Sir Richard Branson was educated at independent schools.

State education teachers who fail to correct spellings should consider this: sending out children at 16, 17 or 18 who cannot spell simple words in their own language will bar them from good jobs and prevent them from reaching their true potential in life.

An illiterate CV automatically excludes them from many jobs that involve writing, whether on paper or on a computer, it limits their chances of promotion, and its reader assumes the writer is less intelligent than they may actually be.

Other countries value their language, both written and spoken. Britain must be the only country in the world where it feels shame when using its language correctly and pride when it has been corrupted.

It's a kind of inverse snobbery: if you can spell correctly, then you think you're better than everyone else. It devalues the written word, a universal code that should be understood by all who speak its language.

To be excluded from it is to miss out. As David Cameron could have said if he had not been educated at Eton: “We’re all in this togaver.”