As most of my school year turn 60 this year, some bright sparks have decided to organise our first ever school reunion and I don’t know whether to be excited or scared?! Whilst I’ve kept in touch with a few friends from school, I’ve moved around quite a bit, so had lost contact with many. The new Facebook group which we have been invited to join (thanks to Deb and Ellie for organising) has been interesting to say the least and as I write this, I’m actually looking forward to the 13th when we all meet up – I hope it’s a good omen, although some of the old photos appearing are truly shocking, perms, flicks and our brown school uniform (yes really who thought that was a good idea?!)
I don’t know about you, but I enjoyed most of my school days. I was a bit of a book worm and loved English literature and languages although maths was never a favourite; quite ironic when you consider I ended up running my own million pound agency! It just goes to show that providing you know the why, you can find your how (and the motivation).
School taught me a lot, more than just the syllabus subjects, for which I am truly grateful – life skills, socialising, sports and teamwork and I’m grateful that I was lucky enough to go to good schools although I do have a few less happy memories (although can see the funny sides now).
One early episode however, scarred me deeply, thank you Mother! It was whilst at primary school when mum, a highly qualified Nursing Sister, took a job as the School Nurse for the District. One part of the job was to visit school to check for nits and this included our school, St Botolphs. I was mortified at the thought of the other kids knowing that ‘our mam’ was actually Nitty Nora – the school nit nurse! To make matters worse, she would call me to the front of queue, undo my long plaits and check for nits to show the other kids what they were in store for them! We still laugh about it now, her more than me of course!
I also remember embarrassing myself at junior school when I had a sudden need to speak to my elder brother who was in the year ahead of me. For the life of me, I can’t remember what it was, but trundled off to where I knew his class was, politely knocked on the door and went in. I then bundled up to him to tell him whatever it was that so urgent before Mrs Steeper called me out and demanded to know that I thought I was doing. At the best of times, Mrs Steeper was a scary vision in bright clothes (it’s funny the things we remember), but having had her maths lesson interrupted, she was in no mood for a little madam interrupting her. I stuttered my apologies and rushed back to my own lesson knowing that I should always seek permission when on some on someone else’s territory and never to cross Mrs Steeper again if I could help it.
The intervening years were a mixture of fun, sports days, playground adventures, occasional flying board rubbers and what seemed like never ending homework. But I remember being happy and loving the school dinners at junior school – especially the puddings – the spotted dick, jam roly poly, streamed treacle etc – all complete with skin on custard – yum!
At high school, history was another favourite subject and I loved learning all about the Tudors, which motivated me to do history ‘O’ Level (yes, I am that old)! However, imagine my disappointment when I turned up on Day 1 only to find that we were studying the world wars instead. I was gutted! Only in hindsight did I understand the importance of the syllabus and remain grateful that I learnt so much of what my grandparents, particularly my grandfather, went through – he fought in Burma and was a prisoner of war. Although he refused to talk about his time as a POW and seldom mentioned the war, he did struggle when I did a school exchange with my German penfriend. Understandable really, but it seemed odd at the time when, as a growing teen, I really didn’t understand what had happened to his generation and the horrors inflicted around the world. History is such a valuable subject and I hope we don’t lose the first and second world wars from today’s syllabuses despite what else is going on in conflicts around the world today – which is equally important.
Another mortifying event was at high school. My year was the second year of co-ed, so our previously ‘girls only’ school was suddenly learning how to deal with boys too. This, however, didn’t stretch to us all going to all the classes together. Girls still learnt country dancing and boys got to do woodwork (at which my brother excelled, so he at least was happy)!
At first I enjoyed letting off steam learning dances from around the world. I particularly enjoyed the quite fast Italian Tarantella dance, but quickly lost my sense of humour when our virtual global tour landed in Germany. We were to learn The Schuhplattler – a form of country courtship dancing, featuring the men vigorously swinging their partners around whilst also slapping his thighs and feet, and dressed in leather shorts called lederhosen. The ladies were beautifully attired in brightly coloured dresses and flouncing petticoats….. I’m sure you’ve seen it on TV.
Those of you that know me, or who read my blogs, know that I’m quite tall, so it will come as no surprise that I had to be a bloke, complete with too short shorts and a felt green hat like Robin Hood!
I wanted to the earth to open up and swallow me. Attitude, however, wasn’t allowed as our teachers were quite strict, so I threw myself into the rehearsals thinking if you can’t beat them….. However, all my hard work backfired on me and I was chosen to be the dance leader, yet more spotlight which I hated. I contemplated faking a stomach ache on the day, but never being what I’d consider a competent liar, I doubted my ability to go through with it and was still fearful of authority (I was such a model pupil really!!)
To make matters worse, my boobs were beginning to sprout and I was super self-conscious of where to put my braces, I am dying inside even now thinking about it! Event day dawned and the school concert went off without a hitch, although I couldn’t wait to get back stage and change back into my normal clothes. There is a photo somewhere, but thankfully I can’t find it!
At high school, we also had some (what seemed like) wild parties when we were in the 6th form during our ‘A’ Level years*. However, looking back, a few illicit ciders and the occasional bottle of wine were really tame considering what goes on these days… There were also a few cigarettes floating around, but I was never cool enough to want to get involved in puffing behind the bike sheds!
I remember us girls talking about our life plans and think everyone expected to go to university, get married and have kids. We also worked out our pension age, and we thought 2023** was so very, very, very far away
So, whilst I look forward to my first ever school union and reminiscing about the ups and downs of school, I’d love to know if your life worked out as you expected? Mine certainly didn’t but I’m absolutely loving the here and now and hope you are too.
With love
Julia, AKA Just Me.
*Whilst I doubt there is anyone young enough to be reading this blog who doesn’t understand the ‘O’ and ‘A’ terminology, they were the precursors to GSCEs etc!
**2023: those were the days when we expected to get our pensions at 60, if only we knew then what we know now…
Schuhplattler image: Patrick Gruban from Munich, Germany, CC BY-SA 2.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0>, via Wikimedia Commons