Chapter 8

Primary School

‘Children must be taught how to think, not what to think.’ Margaret Mead.

I don’t remember much about my primary school days. Mum said on my first day at Middleton Primary, which was literally just over the road from where we lived, she expected a howling banshee when she left, but when we arrived, the teacher had a little word with me; we have no idea what she said, and I just went to my desk and started to draw. How wonderful! Mum had taught me to read and write and do simple sums before I went to school, as she did our Carol, so it might have been easier for me than many, and I was always keen to learn. I do remember I liked rounders and played bowler for the team. That’s as far as my sporting prowess reached at the time.

I also remember starring in the play ‘Toad of Toad Hall’, written by A.A. Milne of Winnie the Pooh fame. Toad of Toad Hall is the first of many dramatisations of Kenneth Grahame’s 1908 novel ‘The Wind in the Willows’. I played Phoebe the gaolers daughter who helps Toad escape from the police, something that makes me smile; I trained to be a police special in 1997. In 1990, the minimum height restriction was dropped, otherwise at 4ft 10 I would never have got in. Just another example of discrimination for both men and women at the time. I almost didn’t make it into nursing as if my memory serves me correctly, there were height restrictions too in some hospitals.

As an actress I don’t remember being that good. So, not being cut out for acting or singing for that matter, [goodness knows how much the teachers suffered when I auditioned for the school choir] it was probably best I gave up any idea of being a budding actress or singer long before I left school.

I do remember a rather embarrassing moment when I asked how we knew babies were boys or girls when they were born. Hopefully I wasn’t 15. I thought willies grew on later. And I trained to be a nurse!

Middle School

‘I’m not telling you it’s going to be easy – I’m telling you it’s going to be worth it.’ Art Williams

By the time I went to John Blenkinsop Middle School, which was just across the playing fields from Middleton Primary I was raring to go. I continued to play rounders but instead of bowler, I became a fielder. About the same time, mum and dad cleared out the box room in the house, so called, because the stairs came into the room and were ‘boxed in’, although I think its official title is bulkhead and is designed to enable sufficient headroom as you go up the stairs. As I started to study more frequently, I had my own room, but no room for a desk, so when the library was closed, I used to do my homework on ‘the box’ and knelt on the bed. At least I had a space. As a lifelong learner with my own computer and office space today, it’s hard to believe that many children have no dedicated space in which to learn and frequently have to share computers with multiple family members. It’s why so many children and adults find it difficult to learn and sadly why deeply ingrained inequalities continue to exist today.

In April, I contacted an old school friend of mine. I’m not a big fan of social media, but in the main, it’s the only opportunity we have to seek out those we have previously known. So, taking the bull by the horns and engaging my social media savvy sister Catherine to help me, I contacted my old school friend, Tracey.

Tracey is a particularly special school friend, because she is only one of two I know, who I went to all three schools with. She also kindly agreed to write the foreword for my book. She has a great memory for our school days, unlike me, who can hardly remember anything. When we caught up for our mammoth gossip, she reminded me of the time we were given homework and asked to draw a picture of what it might look like in Auschwitz, the concentration camp. Well, I couldn’t draw, so I asked my dad to draw it for me. Dad wasn’t worldly wise and he drew a picture of people playing cricket. I should have known better. I have absolutely no idea what happened when I handed it in, maybe I didn’t, but, whatever did, it was my own fault. I should have drawn it myself. Dad may not have been worldly wise, but I had been an idiot.

One night, Tracey stayed over at our house and my dad, who was the worse for wear, sang Danny Boy to us. A traditional song with Irish links I have no idea why he sang it, as far as I’m aware we have no links to the Irish community. But knowing my dad he didn’t need any.

We also taped ourselves singing Born to Be Alive by Patrick Hernandez and Chiquitita by ABBA. Probably not the best versions you’ll ever hear; in fact, probably the worst. We must have been about 16 at the time. Despite searching high and low Tracey can’t find those tapes. If she does, I’ll let you know.

I was particularly sporty at middle school and played netball, becoming captain for our team in second year. Tracey reminded me I was always shouting at the netball team to get into position. Yes, sounds like me; but with me at the helm we went from bottom to second place in the league table, only being beaten by Cross Flatts Park; our nemesis. I was told I was good enough to trial for County, but it never happened. I never quite gave up on netball though and have played on and off for many years. When I retired, I promised myself I would devote much more time to playing netball and in my first week I joined a walking netball club in Bridlington. Walking netball is very much like netball, but a slower pace slightly moderated version. You’re not allowed to run, although if you keep one foot on the ground, you can move pretty fast around the court. I move pretty fast. Not long after I started playing with Hornsea walking netball club and also joined Bridlington netball club. I am now a qualified level 1 netball assistant coach, and a walking netball host. I am also in training to be an umpire. Then, I’ll have power off the court, as well as on and get to blow the whistle against others, instead of having the whistle blown against me. From little acorns… as they say.

For those who don’t know, netball is a highly competitive, highly intense team player sport. At school and throughout my playing time I played Centre and still do today. The Centre is the key position on the court. She is the glue that holds the team together and play can’t commence without a Centre. She is usually small (or at least was in our school days), nimble and is able to move around the court like lightening. She is bossy (sound like anyone you know?) and made of great leadership material. A Centre knows how to control the game and has explosive speed, agility and finesse, oh! and did I say…she needs to be fit. Although saying ‘she’ is probably not pc today, but it is still primarily a sport played by women.

Playing netball is not for the faint hearted. In just eight weeks, I developed lower back pan, I injured the little finger of my left hand and broke the middle finger of my right; but I’ve kept playing. Who says retirement has to mean we do less or take less risks? It just provides an opportunity to do so much more, and I certainly don’t let minor injuries put me off; at least not for long. Life just gets a whole lot better when you play netball; despite the injuries.

I also enjoyed gymnastics at John Blenkinsop and achieved all my British Amateur Gymnastics Association (BAGA) awards. In the seventies the BAGA Awards were four national school gymnastic awards, sponsored by the Sunday Times. These awards tested agility, strength, ability and I would certainly say courage.

I don’t actually believe I passed all four, but I did. Looking back, it was quite an achievement. There is always so much focus on professional gymnasts and athletes, but let’s not forget the teachers who, normally after school, would motivate us, challenge us and push us hard. Nothing achieved is ever easy.

High School

‘No matter how you feel, get up, dress up, and show up.’ Regina Brett

My last school was Matthew Murray High School, named after the famous English inventor. Involved with steam engines and tool manufacturing, Matthew Murray spent time with the equally well known, John Blenkinsop, a mining engineer and pit manager, and together they helped revolutionise haulage transportation, especially in the mines.

Thousands of pupils walked through the doors of Matthew Murray situated on Brown Lane, in Holbeck, before it was pulled down in the mid 2000’s. Sadly, it remains waste land to this day.

When we had the Leeds bus strike in 1978, which lasted for five and a half weeks, I would walk the five miles there and therefore five miles back every day. A small thing like a bus strike wasn’t going to stop me going to school. High school for me was a time to knuckle down and learn. I loved languages and had ambitions of becoming a French teacher and interpreter, and of course when anything was spoken in French on TV, I was always asked what it meant, which I frequently knew or could hazard a guess.

I also continued to be sporty into high school, playing hockey and tennis for the school. Although I really liked team sports, I wasn’t much good at athletics. On one occasion; school sports day, our team didn’t have anyone to run the 800 metres, so I put my name down. If I remember correctly teams got a point simply for entering all the different events [or I wouldn’t have entered it], and one point might have made all the difference between winning or losing, Well, I couldn’t run and came last by at least 400 metres, as I remember some even lapped me, but I did get a cheer from everyone, well at least those who’d waited until I’d crossed the finishing line. I can’t remember whether we won ‘the trophy’ or not, but as the saying goes, ‘it’s not the winning. but the taking part that counts.’

We were also introduced to domestic science as girls. Clearly a stereotypical viewpoint that I hope has been assigned to the annals of history. Never to be repeated. I didn’t mind baking and we ate most of what I made as a family, including raspberry buns and pineapple upside down cake. Who remembers those? But the cheese scones were absolutely diabolical. My friend said she liked them. They were vile!

Girls were also introduced to sewing. Another vile practice. Parents having to buy material for clothes that would never be worn, really annoyed me; even then. I remember the material and the skirt I made. You’re right I never did wear it. Assigning it to the rubbish bin as soon as I could.

High school was the time for exams and career planning. In 1972 children were legally required to stay on at school until the age of 16. Examined qualifications consisted of GCE [General Certificate of Education] O-level [Ordinary as opposed to A-Level or Advanced Level] or CSE [Certificate of Secondary Education]. I still have my certificates, well most of them.

My mum reminded me of a time when a teacher told her I wouldn’t amount to much. Tracey said he told her mum something similar and my cousin Kevin…well, I’d best not tell you what he said. I don’t understand such behaviour from any teacher. Tracey was clever and got 10 O-levels. I left school with one and a few CSEs, but thankfully I saw sense, went back and tried harder.

 Eventually I was to get 5 GCEs

English language – Summer 1979 – Grade C

French  – Summer 1980 – Grade A

History – Summer 1980 – Grade C

Sociology – Summer 1980 – Grade C

Human Biology – Summer 1984 – Grade C

I haven’t saved my CSE certificates. I absolutely flunked the final year and didn’t want to be reminded of those grades. I do remember I got a grade four in maths and a grade two in German. I can’t remember my French result, but I know I re-sat it. I was absolutely rubbish at maths. I did manage to complete the EDI Level 2 Certificate in Adult Numeracy in 2012. Thankfully I didn’t need maths to enter nurse training or my life would have been very different.

I was disappointed though about my German result. I loved German and the teacher was special. A grade one was equivalent to ‘O’ level at grade C or above, if my memory serves me correctly, but going back to school in September 1979 to try and improve my grades, meant I couldn’t waste my time re-sitting any qualification that I didn’t need. French at the time, was much more important to me, because of my aspirations to be a French teacher and interpreter. But ultimately that too came to an abrupt end when I went to College. I just didn’t like it. I don’t know many who did.

I also wanted to do Sociology, which had just been introduced into the school and we were a pilot group. Sociology is about understanding the complex nature of society, family, education, behaviours, crime and social class. I loved it.

Much of my writing today, whilst not necessarily focusing on these sociological aspects, does focus on structures that impact on society, such as government and politics, university education, health and wellbeing and housing.

So, there was a place for my high school learning, after all!