For as long as most local people can remember, Thornhill community academy in Dewsbury has not been many parents' first choice. It was built to accommodate 900 students, but only 760 or so are currently enrolled, 42% of whom are poor enough to qualify for free school meals.

But if the turnout at the recent open evening is anything to go by, there soon could be competition for places. "There were three times as many families at the open evening as usual: 500 people," said Jonny Mitchell, the school's 41-year-old headteacher. Some parents are in a hurry. "We've had 20 to 30 'in-year' applications in the last month – people inquiring about moving their children to us straight away," he added.

Then there's the recent stream of emails – "hundreds", says Mitchell – from people suddenly wanting to work at the 1960s comprehensive.

The increased interest may have something to do with the school's improved results – this year 88% of pupils managed five A*-C passes, up from 56% in 2009. But it is also almost certainly fuelled by Thornhill's appearance on Channel 4's popular reality show, Educating Yorkshire.

Around 4.3 million people watched the programme at the start of its run, twice the audience won by its 2009 forebear, Educating Essex.

The show has made a star of one year 9 boy, 13-year-old Ryan Ward, a gruff-voiced, latte-drinking philosopher who wants to be a firefighter, a police officer or an actor. "I either want to help people or entertain them," he said solemnly in episode one, shortly after suggesting one of his teachers might be going through the menopause when she complained she was too hot.

Bailey, 15, a year 11 pupil at Thornhill. Photograph: Gary Calton

When Louis Tomlinson from the boyband One Direction called Ryan a legend on Twitter, his message received more than 45,000 retweets and was favourited by more than 59,000 users. A few days later Ryan was on ITV chewing the fat with Alan Titchmarsh and being asked for his autograph at Alton Towers.

"When he got back to school, Ryan found himself surrounded by year 11 and year 10 girls going 'ahhhh' and asking to have their picture taken with him," said Matthew Burton, the school's skinny-suited assistant head.

"It's really strange," growled Ryan last week, his voice having apparently dropped another octave since filming stopped in March. "I always wanted to be on TV but I didn't expect people to want my autograph or a picture with me."

Another big character on the show is Bailey, now 15 and in year 11, who was filmed plastered in orange make-up to cover up scars from a dog bite and showing off her hand-drawn eyebrows.

"D'you like me eyebrows? I shaved 'em all off," has become a catchphrase shouted at her wherever she goes (Mitchell claims he has been sent pictures of other girls who have followed suit). "It can be a bit cringey," said Bailey, "but I don't really mind." Taking part in the show has changed her, she says, both her look and behaviour: "I've grown me eyebrows back and don't wear so much makeup … and I haven't had a detention or been put in isolation all term."

Since becoming famous, she has had makeup artists get in touch offering to show her how to cover her facial scars more subtly, while West Yorkshire police and fire services have both offered to host Ryan for some work experience.

Bailey has no time for those who suggest she and her peers have been exploited for entertainment. "We didn't have to do it. We made a choice."

Matthew Burton, assistant head at Thornhill, giving a lesson. Photograph: Gary Calton

Even Steve Moses, the affable head of year 9, says he has no regrets about sharing with the nation the details of his somewhat disastrous love life – in episode five he opened up about his adventures in internet dating. He expected the children to take the mick, "but actually they've been quite sweet, saying 'sir, sir, have you found love yet?'". (He is keen to stress that he has been in a good relationship pretty much since the cameras left Thornhill.)

Educating Yorkshire has only really had one bad review so far, from the Daily Mail. The show is "sickening to watch", wrote Christopher Stevens, objecting to Mitchell's loose tie and habit of calling pupils "mate".

The head is never heard shouting – "too many of our kids get that at home", he told the Guardian on a visit to the school earlier this year. But it is clear he doesn't need to raise his voice to get poor behaviour in check. "I'm actually quite frightened of you, sir," admits year 10's Tom, when summoned to Mitchell's office for a dressing-down. "Good," said Mitchell. "Keep it that way."

It was a storyline concerning Tom that made for the most uncomfortable viewing of the series. One day during filming, the school received an email to say Tom's step-brother had died. At first Tom seemed nonchalant, announcing to his mates: "My step-brother has died. Do you want a crisp?"

But as the funeral drew near, he went off the rails, becoming such a disruptive force that Mitchell sent him home for a few days. Burton says Tom is "very open about the fact he went on quite a journey through those eight weeks [of filming]. He said to me that if someone else watches it and gets themselves sorted out as a result, he would be happy."

With the cameras long gone, life at Thornhill continues as usual, with one important difference, says Burton: "The kids seem to be walking a few inches taller. There's a real, genuine pride about the place."