The Primary School I
attended was situated in a small village almost four miles from my
home and served the children the Parish. The church a stones throw up
the hill was a focal point for both school and village and parochial
matters were taken very seriously by all.
The school was divided
in to three classes, the babies class,as we called it, here one
remained for two years and learned to read write and do sums. The
Infants Class teacher was a terrifying old battleaxe,Miss Jones,who
ruled with a rod of iron, used a ruler as an instrument of punishment
either on the hands or the legs. Feared by all as she was she managed
to ensure that even the most backward of her charges could read and
write before leaving her tender care.
At the age of seven and
with much relief one entered the Juniors class. In the year in which
I entered this blessed sanctuary a new young lady teacher had been
joined the staff, Miss Morris. She was tall with wavy brown hair, not
at all pretty in the conventional sense but very attractive as the
mums always said when discussing her attributes.
Slender, bright,
clever, twenty four years old and as far as we,her charges were
concerned a good deal too strict.
I owe much to this
young woman,she encouraged us to use our imaginations, I was a bright
child and she recognised this and in the short time I spent in her
company I learned to love books, plays, ballet, and drawing. She it
was who introduced me to “The Lion The Witch and the Wardrobe, the
child in me has been looking into wardrobes ever since.
One morning after I
have been in the juniors class for about six months I was called to
the headmasters desk. I was certain that I had done something amiss,
and wondered which of my recent misdemeanour’s had been discovered.
The Headmaster, Mr Rushton smiled encouragingly and asked me if I
would mind sitting at his desk for a while to do some work for him.
The headmasters desk was on a raised dais at the top of the Seniors
class room and when I looked up the sea of inquisitive faces made me
very nervous.
“Pretend they are not
there.” he told me “No one will disturb you I give you my word.”
Still puzzled I took up
the pencil turned over the top sheet of paper and began to work my
way through the sheets.
It was fun,I liked the
questions which were not like the work I was given to do by Miss
Morris.
I finished half an hour
before lunch break and Mr Rushton thanked me and then sent me out in
to the playground early as a reward for my hard work.
I did feel odd. Firstly
being in the teachers good books was unusual for although my class
work was always good I was inclined to be mischievous. Then being out
in the playground alone felt very strange, I ran round and round the
playground trying to out run a mind full of questions in the same way
that I would have run away from a swarm of angry wasps.
Both the children from
the seniors class and my own class mates plagued and tormented me for
the rest of the day to tell them what it was all about,they did not
believe me when I told the I had no idea.
That evening I was
given a letter for my parents and my hands shook as I gave my mother
the letter. She read it ,she read it again and then she gave me a hug
and told me I was a good girl...a most unusual state of affairs.
It was not until the
following Monday that I discovered that My form teacher and the Head
had been monitoring my work for months and had decided that I should
go directly to the seniors class ,where it was felt. I should
benefit from a more strenuous regime. I felt this to be a most
dubious accolade and foresaw trouble ahead.
I had passed the IQ
tests with flying colours and it was felt that I should be held back
if I remained in the Juniors class. I was to begin after the Easter
Break, there was nothing I could say or do to stop this dreadful
event!
Throughout the holiday
there were hints of what was to come, my class mates considered me
“stuck up”. My future class mates considered me jumped up and the
mothers,who seemed to talk of nothing else on the market day bus
assured each other that it was unnatural for a girl to be so
clever,and that no good would come of it. With this last sentiment I
thoroughly concurred.
The dreaded day arrived
and I took my place at a double desk at the back of the class and at
the end of a row. As we were handed our new books for the term I
could here the voices of my friends through the thin wooden partition
which divided the two rooms, my best friend, the girl whose desk I
had shared though infants was now seated with a new girl who had
moved in to the village during the holiday. I felt like an outcast,I
felt the tears behind my eyes and knew how shaming those tears would
be,
My honour was saved by
a fire drill.
I soon settled in to
the new routine,I enjoyed the work for I was now doing fractions and
decimals as well as composition and comprehension. I wrote story
after story and was sent each Friday afternoon to read my stories to
the infants and this I loved to do.
One of my duties was to
keep the nature table tidy ,another joy as natural history was my
passion, Mu teacher Mr Rushton had a seemingly endless supply of
books about birds ,and animals ,dinosaurs and evolution and after I
had read my way through the school library he supplied me with books
of his own. With such encouragement I could not help but do well.
At assembly one morning
it was announced that I had won second prize in a National poster
competition and was to attend a ceremony to collect my prize in
October. October was ages away before then there was the blissfully
long summer holiday,six weeks of sunshine and Playing with my little
brother.
I went on the last day
of term to clear the nature table, most of the items would be thrown
away except for the tadpoles who now had legs and had almost lost
their tales. These would be returned to the pond from which the spawn
had been collected in late March.
A tap on my shoulder
made me turn around, it was my best friend Marie,who's loss I was
still mourning.
She had been elected to
the post of Nature table monitor for the Juniors next year. She held
out a bag of sweets and I took one carefully, then she gave me a hug
and ran to the door, as I watched she stopped in the arched doorway
which was flooding the vestibule with golden light.
“Come on then.” she
called “Lets play hopscotch.”
I followed her out in
to the afternoon sunshine, I was sure that I had never been so happy,
Marie and I were friends again and I had survived my first term in
the Seniors.
