When I read this post back it brings back so many memories of High School to me. Sometimes I think I paint my English teacher too harshly, but the fact is, he was memorable! We were ok with it. So I know the contents of this post might seem concerning, and I don’t think teachers could get away with this now, but twenty-something years ago we took it on the chin with a grin. Nobody could forget English lessons with the infamous Mr Turner!
Mr Turner was a riddle. There was a very jovial side to him. He clearly had a sense of humour as indicated by his huge guffaws, which made his belly wobble and his face crimson. Yet he had also won the reputation of being one of the most fearsome teachers within the school.
I remember my English lessons during the first year of high school vividly. He would ask a question. If you didn’t have your hand up he was likely to single you out for attention, which was always rather embarrassing. So I quickly learnt it was better to raise my hand, even if I did not have anything to say – and just hope he would not pick me.
It did not always work though!
“You,” Mr Turner said as he was looking over in my general direction. I looked around at my classmates sitting around me to see if he could be referring to someone else. “Yes you…you have your hand up. What’s your name girl?“
“Melody Finch Sir.”
“Well come along Finch, speak up, we don’t have all day!”
“What was the question again Sir?”
“What was the question? Finch, why did you put your hand up if you don’t know what the question was?”
“My mind has gone blank Sir.“
“Finch you are a pudding. A right pudding. What are you?“
“A pudding Sir.” I could hear some of my classmates sniggering.
“That’s right. A real pudding. Can you spell that backwards?“
“Erm, G-N..erm..E, no I mean I-D” I did know how to spell “pudding”, but under pressure, I struggled to think clearly.
“Wrong! I asked you to spell “that” backwards, not “pudding” backwards! Finch you really are a right pudding. Look at me when I am addressing you Finch! Do you know what you are?“
“A pudding Sir!”
“Very good, but you’re a right rum pudding too. I am only teasing you Finch, don’t sulk. Now who can tell Miss Finch what the question was?”
There was silence. Nobody else was willing to hazard a guess. Mr Turner’s stare rested on a boy named Henry Wilson who sat at the back of the classroom. “Wilson! Are you asleep? You look as is you have only just crawled out of bed. Stand up! Shirt! In! Tucked in! Do you own a comb? Tell your parents to buy you a comb so you can straighten your hair in the morning. Don’t scowl Wilson! Come here, bring your exercise book. Come on lad, we don’t have all day!“
Although, I felt some relief now that Mr Turner seemed to have forgotten about me momentarily, I felt a sickening anticipation of what was about to happen. Almost every lesson somebody ended up at the front of the classroom. Mr Turner would find some reason to humiliate them in front of the class. In the case of Henry Wilson, it was the dishevelled state of his exercise book. Before long Henry was made to do one hundred press-ups at the front of the classroom with a dictionary on his head. It kept slipping off, and so Mr Turner rested it on his back instead.
It was usually the boys who ended up doing press-ups. None of us escaped being called “puddings”. As a group of students we were divided in our opinion of Mr Turner. I guess in some ways we found his lessons funny, but we all had nervous knots at the same time. He gave me very poor grades for months, until I wrote a very long character study on Ruth Balacki from the book we were studying “The Silver Sword”. He gave me an A and wrote that it was the first time my homework had not sent him to sleep.
I have to admit I was glad to find out that we would have a change of English teacher for my second year at high school. We had Mrs Lawton, who told us she was a humanist and a was very kind and encouraging in general. She taught us English until she ran away with Mr Colbook the games teacher when he moved over Buckinghamshire. But that’s another story.
I had unanswered questions about why I was being sent to school and great difficulties understanding the whole concept of leaving my parents and being with a group of odd children who did not seem to be as switched on as I was. I saw no value in being forced to spend time there and I found it quite tiring at times. When it was all getting too much, I would go and hide in the “wendy house” and burrow underneath the pile of playclothes. There I would often fall fast asleep until the end of the school day.
The only way I settled in my mind this separation from home was feeling I had an important role to fill. I was always tidying up after the other children, helping them put their coats on, putting straws in milk cartons at “milk time”. I also had issues about the uniform – well it was grey…as some school uniforms are. I said to Mrs Richardson, “Yes, I know all the other children have to wear a uniform, but what I don’t understand is, why do I have to wear a uniform?” I didn’t see myself as one of them but that I was being forced against my will to be at this school. Well….whatever I said to the teachers, I was allowed to attend school throughout the infants and wear my choice of clothes rather than the uniform. What did I wear? I had so many pretty little girl dresses that had been given to my mum by my dad’s customers and friends. Quite an impressive wardrobe. I remember some of them vividly. Although I also loved wearing shorts and T-shirts at home, I was too proud to wear shorts for school, I did want to be smart. It sometimes strikes me as odd that although I was such a tomboy in so many ways – I always loved my dresses.
The children were following me home and asking me if I was an angel. I was very upset by this. Why? In our classroom, there was a golden book about the Bible the teacher used to read stories from at story time. The angels in the pictures were all men with beards and big muscles and huge wings. I thought the kids were being unkind calling me an angel. Mum and Dad tried to explain that some of the children were just fascinated by me. 
I learnt so much from them about what girls where supposed to be interested in. The girls taught me two things I never had experienced elsewhere. They all seemed to know how to do handstands. This was truly wonderful to me. I threw myself into copying them and they tried to help me. Nonetheless, it took me a long time to master the art of handstands. They also knew how to make daisy chains. Can you comprehend how marvellous it was to me to be able to produce something as beautiful as a daisy chain? You wouldn’t believe how much patience and effort I put in to trying to make them. I went missing from the school several times, and rather than being asleep in the wendy house, I was frequently found on the cricket pitch behind the school – which was not allowed. I thought that rule must apply to the odd little children who seemed rather backward. I often played on that cricket pitch with my Dad and siblings, so I felt comfortable up there. I know why I went there. The grass around the cricket pitch was a little longer than our school field and the daisies had longer stalks. The longer the stalks the more chance I had of being able to make a decent daisy chain. As I look back at primary school, I have to confess one of the deepest gifts it imparted to me was learning things like how to make daisy chains from other children. Everything else I was content to learn from books, books my parents bought for me. I was discontent at hearing the teachers express their own opinions.
Then there was the wetting myself issue. It happened twice that I can remember. It happens to a lot of children, doesn’t it? But it was the way it happened to me that seems memorable. Both times it was a fear thing. On one occasion, a very annoyed teacher (I have no idea why she was upset that morning) was marching everyone through the school and she turned around and said to me to stand still and not to leave that spot until she returned. Now, she just happened to have parked me right next to the large container containing sand and toys – so I occasionally let my fingers play with the sand. But out of obedient fear….I did not move from that spot. I have no idea why she left me there for so long (I think it was the other children that were in trouble), but by the time she came back to find me in the same spot, I was standing in a yellow puddle. She asked why I had not gone to the toilet and all I could do was repeat her words to me. Off to the headmaster’s secretary for some replacement underwear from the “lost and found” box.
Aaaaah schooooooool!!!! Life at school became a bit more interesting when I was in the first year of juniors (I think that would be Year 3) and was asked to leave the rest of my class one morning each week and join the children in their last year of primary school (Year 6) who had weekly swimming lessons. My sisters and I were part of our town swimming club so the headmaster wanted to see whether I could keep up with the children three years older than me. Sure enough they entered me into a couple of the races in the county swimming gala. I was swimming for the school competitively with kids who were three years older than me Our school won so many races in the county swimming gala and I remember winning mine also. The headmaster was delighted with me. We had a number of awards on display in the school lobby after that swimming gala. Ours was a small school, so it seemed quite a victory that we had won so much.
During the six-week school holiday between Year 3 and Year 4, I had been allowed to borrow a book from the school library. It was Johanna Spyri’s “Heidi“. The headmaster had told me that I must be careful not to lose it, I must bring it back at the end of the holidays or else I would not be allowed to borrow a book again. Can you imagine how devastated I was when my Dad broke the news one morning that our school (which by now I had grown to love) had been burnt down by three boys? Two were fourteen years of age and the other had just finished year 6 – he must have been eleven. I still remember his name, but not the other two boys.
I had difficulties understanding the school thing. Mum clearly needed my help at home with my two younger sisters. I enjoyed our walks to the library to read and go shopping. Everyone seemed to know my mum so we chatted with many town folk. We had a very contented routine. Leaving mum to go off to be with other children was not my idea of a happy state of affairs. Mum and Dad could see how perplexed I was about this arrangement. One of them put the idea into my head that the headmaster had put a special request to have me at the school, so that I could teach the other children how to behave. When I asked questions about this, the reply was that I could teach the other children things like how to use a knife and fork (this had been a major challenge for me up to this point but I had recently conquered it and was very proud indeed).
So at my first lunch-time I sat down and started with my task. I announced “children, listen to me, I am going to teach you about knifes and fooooorkes” (I was terrified of mispronouncing the work “fork” so took pains to make sure I lengthened the vowels)….the other kids were staring at me. The girl opposite me, whose name I remember very well (and years later we played netball together) took the flask cup of orange juice she held and threw it at me. I realized I had my work cut out! I will admit, I never felt on the same level as the other children. Some of them I liked very much, some of them I pitied, and others left me bewildered, baffled. But when I think about it, not much has changed since I left school and have had to move in adult circles.
I didn’t like school at first (I liked it more later). But I was told that if I didn’t go to school my parents would be put into prison. This I found very distressing indeed. I felt as if it was a bit of a nightmare situation. I wanted to be at home helping my mum with my younger siblings and looking after the house. The only way I settled in my mind this separation from home, was feeling I had a role to fill. I was always tidying up after the other children, helping them put their coats on, putting straws in milk cartons at “milk time”.
I also had issues about the uniform – well it was grey…as some school uniforms are. I said to Mrs Richardson “Yes, I know all the other children have to wear a uniform, but what I don’t understand is, why do I have to wear a uniform?” I didn’t see myself as one of them but that I was being forced against my will to be at this school. Well….whatever I said to the teachers it worked! I was allowed to attend school throughout the infants and juniors and wear my choice of clothes rather than the uniform.
What would the other kids think of me? Bright blonde hair. Pretty dresses in white, pale pink, peach, lemon, baby blue (I had some that were darker coloured but I preferred to use them as play clothes as when I was climbing trees or playing football I would get quite muddy). I am helping every child I cross paths with, breaking up fights, sharing my crisps with everyone, doing all these jobs to help the teachers and tidying up. I remember sobbing to my parents that the children were bullying me. When my parents looked into it this is what was happening: the children were following me home and asking me if I was an angel. I was very upset by that. You might wonder why?
In our classroom, there was a golden book about the Bible that the teacher used to read stories from each afternoon. The angels in the pictures were all men with beards and big muscles and huge wings. I thought the kids were being unkind calling me an angel. Mum and Dad tried to explain that some of the children were just fascinated by me. They were not trying to be unkind at all. They thought angels were like little fairies. I had been reading books like “The Famous Five”, “The Secret Seven” and “Mallory Towers” – they didn’t have little fairy angels in them….so my understanding of angels was big burly men with bulging muscles – so I found it an insult they were asking me if I was an angel.
Sometimes I felt overwhelmed with challenges. The other children were at times hard to comprehend. But slowly, I became more accustomed to them. I am one of seven – the fifth in order. Number four – my brother is eight years older and number three, one of my sisters is nine years older than I am. So, my Dad had done a lot of playing with us and had treated us a bit like little boys. It was all climbing and sports. But he hadn’t taught us girly games. We went to a lot of parks and went to the beach a lot and to the swimming baths and picnics with other families, most of whom had sons so I remember huge games of hide & seek in the woods and building dens with them. At last I found a reason to be at school. It turned out there were useful things I could learn from the girls in my class.
The girls taught me two things I never had experienced elsewhere. But the other girls at school knew how to do handstands – it took me a long time to master them. They also knew how to make daisy chains. You wouldn’t believe how much patience and effort I put in to trying to make them. While I should have been in the classroom, I went missing several times, and although twice I was found fast asleep in the wendy house underneath the clothes for dressing up, I was more often than not found on the cricket pitch behind the school – which was not allowed. I know why I went there. The grass around the cricket pitch was a little longer than our school field and the daisies had longer stalks. The longer the stalks the more chance I had of being able to make a decent daisy chain. Making daisy chains is one of my favourite memories of school.
I have great sympathy for those who have to go to school (often against their will!). I would like to reassure you that it will end eventually. You may not realize but there are actually some useful things that you unconsciously learn at school. It turns out that learning to sit still is actually important. You learn how to co-exist alongside the nice, the weird, the wonderful and also quite disturbing of fellow humans. I wouldn’t listen to everything they tell you at school. I quickly realized that some of what the teachers were telling me was nonsense. But you have to learn express yourself respectfully. But it would help you pass tests if you remember what they tell you, even if you realize some of it is nonsense.
A few years after I left high school, my chemistry teacher actually apologised to me for mocking me in front of the class on repeated occasions because I expressed my opinion that there was an intelligent designer behind the periodic table of elements. It turned out I had a talent for maths, I won national competitions for the school. He was a staunch evolutionist. Well, he saw me when he was walking his dog and he called out to me and told me he had changed his view and that he now believed in a Designer, a Creator, he just was not comfortable with the term “God.” I replied that he had never provided a rational explanation of such perfect order without intelligence, so he had not influenced me. But I told him he should go and find all the students he influenced and apologise to them for being so belligerent in the classroom.
One of the biggest tips I would give you is to get into the habit of reading. I don’t really mean comics…or wizard or fairy story books. Read encyclopedias and history books. It will give you an enormous advantage at school.
You will hear many conflicting ideas that go against what your little heart may tell you, and you may see much appalling behaviour, but at the end of the day, you little children usually do see the truth clearly. Humans should be doing a better job at looking after our home and getting on with each other. Success is not, and never will be, owning a gas guzzling car or a factory that pollutes the atmosphere or travelling in your own private jet. In fact they show that a person has failed to understand and comprehend. They show ignorance and reveal greed and selfishness. Despite years of “education” they have totally missed the point!!!
If you are at school and feel depressed, and apparently there are an alarming number of primary school children suffering from depression, here is something your teachers are unlikely to mention. Your Creator wants you to go on living and learning forever. Very soon this earth will be the delightful home He originally had in mind and you will have the chance to live “the real life”. Soon the current education system will be replaced by one that is far superior! Never allow school to crush your heart. It is the meek, and those who love what is good, who will inherit this earth and live forever.
I don’t know much about a lot of things, but what I do know is that it’s Sunday!!! And that means SONG-LYRIC-SUNDAY! Jim Adams aka Newepicauthor (the creator of 
As soon as I saw this my first thought was “Schoooooool’s oooout for summer!” But the weather has been pretty atrocious here in the UK since the one week of summer we had back in February. So I have chosen another song, a very beautiful song. I have a feeling a lot of us will be choosing the same songs today – but it’s all fun.
Speaking of fun…we have just published the details of the challenge for 
Here is my choice of song – and naturally, I am thinking of a wonderful Goldfinch over in Australia – who I do love indeed – if only there was a way to be with him – what a wonderful world this would be! Australia never felt so very far away! But there are plans in motion. Hopefully it will not be too long until I can be with him again. I am sure I will be keeping you posted.
On the road we call life, we pass many people. Some only briefly share the road with us. But all will leave their mark on us in some way.
One of the most super-friendly students in our high school was Carl Sanderson. He was a handsome young man. But what everyone would remember him for, was his smile. When I was eleven, and beginning high school as a Year Seven student, Carl was fourteen starting Year Ten of high school. He was friendly with everyone, not just me. Yet it made such a difference to know there was a friendly face and a cheerful smile, belonging to a fellow student who was going to look out for me.
I quickly realized that Carl was one of those boys who was everyone’s friend. Everyone adored him. He was soooo cute (too old for me to worry about how cute he was). The teachers clearly were very fond of Carl too.
Carl Sanderson was killed when a motor cycle hit him. The driver was speeding of course. I was told he was travelling at around 80 miles per hour when he hit Carl. Apparently Carl died at the scene. He had been crossing that road on the way to collect a younger sibling from school.
Carl made an impression on me in the short time that I knew him. I realized how much it means when you are nervous or alone, to be greeted by a warm friendly smile. I realized how much it means when another human takes the time to show interest in you. During the brief acquaintance I enjoyed with him, it struck me how warming and encouraging another person can be just by their friendliness. I decided I wanted to be like Carl.
favourite subjects when I first started high school and found everything harsh. But the following year we had an obnoxious geography teacher, so my fondness for geography evapourated. My art teacher completely destroyed any glimmer of hope I would one day exhibit my productions in a national gallery.
My history teacher was fine, I just found the syllabus that year (English history) was not as interesting as history books I had read at home (I had read about the Romans, Greeks, Egyptians and the incredible story of the Jews which fascinated me).
In our science lessons we were able to play with bunson burners – I accidentally set fire to my school blazer, which didn’t go down well with my parents.
My first year maths teacher was loopy! Seriously, loopy! She just let us wade out way through the text book on our own and she sat there snoozing until we took a completed page to her desk so she could mark it. She was as gentle a soul as you can imagine and just let the class do as they please and try to work out the maths text book for ourselves. I had an advantage (it turned out that I was a maths genius, although I had no idea until high school). I would race through the questions and my best friend would copy my answers. Then she and I would have fun.
Caramel 