My Childhood Room

Belonging.

No exaggeration I hated school with a passion. Having just left all of my old school behind and moved a hundred miles my new school was a different world. Too much new' to get used to. The school I left was old in every way. Old classroom, old playground and most of all old teachers. These old teachers had long lost values and strange ideas of how children should behave. In todays world it is almost impossible to relate to the methods of teaching. I am talking about the days of free school milk, tiny bottles top with silver foil lids that at 10 30 am every morning would be given out free to every child in England . No doubt a legacy from war time, twenty years pervious. Mrs Kurd an elderly slender woman in her early thirties ! Grey hair would penetrate her naturally raven black straight shoulder length hair. She was okay as teachers went, I just hated having to read out loud to the whole of the class. The fear of ridicule as I stumbled over simple words would put the fear of God into me. I also dreaded getting my English text book back. It would be filled with red lines and spelling corrections, normally accompanied with 'See Me' in bright red letters at the bottom. Gold stars were for other children with a keener aptitude for the written word. Mr Cook the headmaster a round plump man with no hair would be rarely seen, but if you had to see him you were in trouble. An old fashion school that still put sixpence in the Christmas pudding. The whole school came together to celebrate all of the Christian festivals. Like many of the children of my generation I could not bare morning assembly, cold floors and Christian hymns ! Enough to put you off religion for life. One memory that I had of 'Merryworth' Primary School was how the whole school was gathered together one cold frosty winters morning. Mr Cook, who never took assembly, stood stern faced in front of the whole school. In a menacing soft voice only just bearable said, " someone has drawn on the school toilets." And he wanted the culprit to own up and face their punishment ! If no one owned up Christmas would be cancelled. Unbelievable - no sixpences in our pudding, no school play or half day closing, all because a child of 6 or 7 years old had drawn a 'V' on the wall of the boys toilets. It worked and the two boys were expelled from the school in disgrace. How times have changed. My new school was nothing like my old school. It was modern, with younger teachers. It was also newer, only just built with brand new classroom with sky lights pointing upwards towards the sky in the middle of the hexagonal shaped rooms. Central heating in the winter, air conditioning in the summer. A long way from the dirty wooden building of Merryworth C.P. I still hated assembly and lessons, but at this new school psychical education was fantastic. The P.E. Lessons for the boys were taken by an ex professional footballer, who also ran the local paper shop. On a Wednesday afternoon the shop would close half day and Mr Small ex Luton, Everton and Liverpool.F.C. would teach us how to play football.

The school football team in blazoned in dark green shirts, black shorts and green stockings was the best football team in the district. It was an honour to be chosen to play. This one simple thing of playing for the school football team was enough to get me focused on my lessons. It was simple if your English or Maths did not come up to standard, you did not get picked to represent the school at football. Every child has a way to their soul, mine was football. I played every game for my school team for three seasons. Other lessons that were different to what I had been used to were, drama, domestic science and pottery. As much for my dislike of Maths and English, I loved the new subjects. Domestic science or cookery to you and me was a revelation. It introduced me to a life long passion of cooking. Bread and cakes especially. This passion was to become much more important to me later in life. But as a child mixing, flour and yeast together was great fun, and I was good at it. A long way from the humiliation I would feel when asked to read out loud to the class. Confidence is a strange thing, find what you enjoy and watch it grew like the bread dough. Doubling in size in a few minutes. Pottery brought a new aspect to art, I loved the bright colours that would emerge from the kiln on the pots and dishes. Making items from clay also stirred a passion deep inside. But above all I would enjoy drama. Acting in the school plays nearly became as important as football. I discovered 'history ! The Vikings. The Tudors. Even Winnie the Poo. The big wide word of literature. I still couldn't add up or spell, but now I had other ways to explore the world. I came to love my school and the days spent there. When you live a life that is so restrictive, it is hard to believe that a different life may exist. All adults get tared with the same brush as you tar your parents with. Lack of attention, love and interest can not be replaced with aimless discipline and regimes'. Without warmth, care and more importantly love, a family is only a holding cell. I can see now how desperate I was to be loved. Neither of my parents knew how.