Up to Junior School
At aged 9 my twin and I left Greenbank Infants’ School and moved up to Eastville Junior Mixed School.
I was placed in Mr. Richards' class. On my first day he asked “who knows how the alphabet got its name?” Up shot my hand to give the correct answer. Henceforth I was one of his favourites.
Mr. Richards led a school choir. I sang of course, and was introduced to the treasure trove of British folk songs, and to the classics. Mrs. Richards played the piano, and I remember singing Shubert’s “The Trout”.
The BBC came to audition us, and I was chosen, with a couple of others, to introduce our pieces. I struggled with the name “Mozart”.
We were chosen as the first Junior School ever to broadcast in Great Britain, and we recorded our music in the old Bristol Empire Theatre, “down Old Market”. Glory!
One morning I was refused permission to use the toilet. I wet my trousers, there and then in the classroom. At lunch time I ran all the way home, tears streaming down my face. For some reason Mum was not there, but Nanny Povey was. She helped me to clean up and found clean underwear and trousers.
All the way back to school I prayed “Please God, may the puddle have dried up, or may the Caretaker have mopped it during lunch”. God did not answer that prayer. Shame!
During one term Mr. Richards had a student teacher. She introduced us to "The Wind in the Willows", and we staged a little play with scenes from the book. I was selected to be the Narrator whose script linked the scenes. That was all very well, but I really wanted to be en-costume. So I wore one of my sisters' red beret, with a sign pinned to the top reading "Narrator".
One day, whilst lined up, a boy shoved me, causing me to shove another boy. I was hauled out of line by a teacher, and made to bend over for “the dap”. This was a sharp thwack on the rear end, using a “dap” - the local word for what others called plimsoles.
I got the dap, and I cried. Not for the pain. But for the sheer shame of it!
We discovered that Mr. Richards first name was Sidney. So we referred to him as “Old Sid”, thinking ourselves to be very daring. I chatted with one boy about Mr. Richards’ singing voice, and he said “ old Sid is nothing but a crooner”. I thought that was one of the most shocking things I had ever heard.
My pal was Colin Powney, and he and I struggled with using ink pens. (Ink wells on each desk, with ink made from powder, and “dip-in” pens”.
“Sid” said that Povey and Powney had spiders in their inkwells, such were the messy scratchings we made.
The Head Master was Mr. Ken Lewis. He was fair, and never to be feared. In his spare time he was a referee for amateur boxing, and we all thought that to be very exotic.
The time came to leave Sid’s class, and move up. Our teacher the next (academic) year, was to be Mr. Thorne. We were scared, such was his reputation for strictness. In the end our fears were groundless. He was strict, but he was a great teacher. Even though we were ten years old Mr. Thorne (or “Thorny” - we never discovered his first name), would read aloud to us at the end of the day. He loved Mark Twain, and thus it was that I was introduced to Huckleberry Finn.
That was the year for the “eleven plus” exam’. I took it, and many weeks later received a letter at home to say that I had passed. I was pretty swelled headed about this. But I was secretly pleased that my friend Clive had also passed, and that he and I would attend the same Fairfield Grammar School. (Grammar Schools in England were the equivalent of American High Schools). For I already had a crush on Clive.
I was placed in Mr. Richards' class. On my first day he asked “who knows how the alphabet got its name?” Up shot my hand to give the correct answer. Henceforth I was one of his favourites.
Mr. Richards led a school choir. I sang of course, and was introduced to the treasure trove of British folk songs, and to the classics. Mrs. Richards played the piano, and I remember singing Shubert’s “The Trout”.
The BBC came to audition us, and I was chosen, with a couple of others, to introduce our pieces. I struggled with the name “Mozart”.
We were chosen as the first Junior School ever to broadcast in Great Britain, and we recorded our music in the old Bristol Empire Theatre, “down Old Market”. Glory!
One morning I was refused permission to use the toilet. I wet my trousers, there and then in the classroom. At lunch time I ran all the way home, tears streaming down my face. For some reason Mum was not there, but Nanny Povey was. She helped me to clean up and found clean underwear and trousers.
All the way back to school I prayed “Please God, may the puddle have dried up, or may the Caretaker have mopped it during lunch”. God did not answer that prayer. Shame!
During one term Mr. Richards had a student teacher. She introduced us to "The Wind in the Willows", and we staged a little play with scenes from the book. I was selected to be the Narrator whose script linked the scenes. That was all very well, but I really wanted to be en-costume. So I wore one of my sisters' red beret, with a sign pinned to the top reading "Narrator".
One day, whilst lined up, a boy shoved me, causing me to shove another boy. I was hauled out of line by a teacher, and made to bend over for “the dap”. This was a sharp thwack on the rear end, using a “dap” - the local word for what others called plimsoles.
I got the dap, and I cried. Not for the pain. But for the sheer shame of it!
We discovered that Mr. Richards first name was Sidney. So we referred to him as “Old Sid”, thinking ourselves to be very daring. I chatted with one boy about Mr. Richards’ singing voice, and he said “ old Sid is nothing but a crooner”. I thought that was one of the most shocking things I had ever heard.
My pal was Colin Powney, and he and I struggled with using ink pens. (Ink wells on each desk, with ink made from powder, and “dip-in” pens”.
“Sid” said that Povey and Powney had spiders in their inkwells, such were the messy scratchings we made.
The Head Master was Mr. Ken Lewis. He was fair, and never to be feared. In his spare time he was a referee for amateur boxing, and we all thought that to be very exotic.
The time came to leave Sid’s class, and move up. Our teacher the next (academic) year, was to be Mr. Thorne. We were scared, such was his reputation for strictness. In the end our fears were groundless. He was strict, but he was a great teacher. Even though we were ten years old Mr. Thorne (or “Thorny” - we never discovered his first name), would read aloud to us at the end of the day. He loved Mark Twain, and thus it was that I was introduced to Huckleberry Finn.
That was the year for the “eleven plus” exam’. I took it, and many weeks later received a letter at home to say that I had passed. I was pretty swelled headed about this. But I was secretly pleased that my friend Clive had also passed, and that he and I would attend the same Fairfield Grammar School. (Grammar Schools in England were the equivalent of American High Schools). For I already had a crush on Clive.
Michael,
ReplyDeleteA delightful recollection. I also went to Greenbank/Eastville Junior Mixed, though a good few years later, 1960-66. Mr. Thorn and Mr. Lewis were still there, and good and agreeable teachers they were. Though the "dap" was still in use!
Have you come across the old school photos at:
http://eis.bristol.ac.uk/~buinh/school/coomberoad.htm
Regards, Richard.