SCHOOL DAYS

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.