First days at School

[Jill Sparrow 10,305]

Not doing too well with the photos, so here are a few memories to be going on with.

Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin...

Memories of my first day at Berridge Road Infants' School are still vivid.

I was only four years old and, a few days prior to starting full time school, my mother had taken me to see the Infants' Head Mistress, Miss E A Smith, (tall, thin and forbidding) in order to arrange for me to begin in the Autumn Term as I would be five in the November. It seems my luck was really out that day: they were short of bums on seats in the relevant class and a few days later I found myself at the beginning of my school career- and it was only the spring term!

Never to be forgotten is the memory of watching my mother wrapping biscuits in a paper bag and writing my name on the exterior. I had this awful sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach: something unmentionably awful was about to happen to me. We walked along in the morning sunshine until we reached the iron gate in the school wall in Brushfield Street: the same gate I had entered a few days earlier. This time, once through the gate, we turned sharp left to a green door in the wall (long since bricked up). Stepping through, I found myself in a large, high-ceilinged room where several children of around my age were playing with various toys scattered over the floor. One little boy was playing with a toy cooker and took his head out of the oven for just long enough to look up at me and say: "You can't play with this, it's mine!" His head then disappeared back into the oven and I thought, with a sense of dread, "Good grief. Is school as bad as that?"

A young, blonde-haired lady approached, dressed in a black and green striped overall (necessary when you're teaching infants as I much later found out!) Her name was Miss Walters and she said she was going to be my first teacher. Actually, she wasn't. My grandfather was my first teacher and had already taught he me to and write. Imagine my immense disappointment when I discovered that, though there were many toys in that classroom and even a role-play Post Office with a real Bakelite telephone, there were no decent books: only picture books and baby rag-books.

Mum went home and left me there, surveying a crew of motley, scrambling, noisy children. How was I going to cope with this? I didn't like children very much because I'd spent my days with adults until then and much preferred their company. Mum later told me that she went home and sobbed...but I have my doubts about that. Cup of coffee, feet up and a sigh of "Isn't it gloriously peaceful without Jill?" morelike! At lunchtime, I was collected and brought home for a hot meal. I'd forced down the biscuits at break time but drew the line at swallowing warm, smelly milk through a straw.

My grandfather blithely enquired whether I was "enjoying it". I reckon he was in league with my mother...he'd sold me to the Education Authority for a bit of peace and quiet.

The afternoon was worse. Sticky, gluey activities. Painting, wrapped in a rubber apron which smelled horrible, even worse than the all-pervading stench of carbolic soap. A story that was so boring virtually everyone fell asleep and the greatest crime of all...we were not allowed to tune in to Listen With Mother, though I did ask because it was something I had done everyday of my life until then and I loved it dearly. No singing along to "Berceuse" from Faure's Dolly Suite. I still cry with happiness when I hear that piece of music!

The biggest catastrophe that day however, was not the lack of books, the boring story or being deprived of the radio. Oh no. Sometime during the afternoon, I became aware that I needed the toilet. I waited as long as I could because I had no idea where the toilet was but in the end I had to ask Miss Walters.

She opened her desk drawer and fished out two small pieces of tissue paper (Izal- remember that?) and told me to walk across the playground where I would find the toilets, next to the drinking fountain. Our toilet at home was upstairs and had an electric light fitting. The school toilets were inside a brick lean-to affair. It was dark within and there was a most peculiar noise which I didn't recognise. Of the three toilets in a row, in separate cubicles, I went into the nearest one, sat on the seat and let nature take its course (with the door open, of course). Half way through, the noise I'd noticed earlier grew louder and suddenly erupted into a crescendo as all three toilets flushed at the same time. As I was still sitting on the seat, I got soaked and was absolutely terrified.

Gathering what was left of my dignity together, I slopped my way back to the classroom where Miss Walters looked rather cross at the state of me. I told her in no uncertain terms that I was never, NEVER going to the school toilets again and I was as good as my word. I learned to hold it. The toilets, I later discovered, were automatically flushed every few minutes. The experience caused my mother major trouble as from then on I refused to go to any toilet except the one at home. Psychological damage (wonder if I can still sue?)

By the time I went home that afternoon, I understood only too well why the little boy had stuck his head in the oven. I didn't sleep that night and the following morning wrapped my arms and legs around the stair rails at home, screaming: "I AM NOT GOING!!!" at the top of my voice. It didn't help when my father told me I could expect at least another twelve years of it!

Fellow pupils from this time: Christopher Riley, Martin Jewers, Dean Bradley, Stephen Binns, Jane Humphries (still in touch), Gary Walker, Trevor Huddlestone, Colin Hudson, Deborah Noon, Ann Green, Lorraine Seymour, Jane Smith, Eric Taylor, Richard Sewell and quite a few others.

They all appear on the photo which I am trying (honestly) to post on this site.

[mick2me 3,033]

This was such a good post, it needed its own topic.

It is likely to stir memories with this heading.

Thanks Jill.

[katyjay 5,091]

We need a 'absolutely love' button, instead of the 'like' button, as I absolutely loved your memories, Jill.

[.... 23]

Fabulous post. jill.

[Michael Booth 7,364]

I was sad to see that I'd got to the last line, I can't wait for Chapter 2...lol

[mick2me 3,033]

I think Jackson may like it...

[Paulus 541]

I think Jackson may like it...

Right up Jacksons street that one!! lol..........................................Great post Jill Sparrow

[Paulus 541]

No singing along to "Berceuse" from Faure's Dolly Suite. I still cry with happiness when I hear that piece of music!

Just for you Jill,...................................get yer 'anky out!!

[mudgie49 401]

Terrific post Jill, I hope this is the start of a series,I am sure most of us remember a similar experience.

[jackson 301]

Jill (Sparrow) a beautiful post, full of crystal clear memories. I recall the day my daughter started school and how I came home, made myself a cup of tea, sat down and felt so utterly lost.

With a Wonderful memory such as yours, I do hope that you continue posting on 'Nottstalgia'.

PS: thanks to Paulus, for his kindness in downloading 'Berceuse'.

PPS: forgot to mention Jill, how fortunate you are to have the name of a bird: 'Sparrow' - so beautiful - wished I had the name of a bird.

[.... 23]

I've put this on here in the past but this seemed an apt thread for it.

My first day at the British School in Arnold.

Ring Ring Goes the Bell

[Jill Sparrow 10,305]

Well, you asked for it....

After a year with Miss Bowen (whom I adored) I ended my infants' schooling with Miss Smith. Many of you Berridge attendees will remember Miss Smith (top infants), not to be confused with Miss E A Smith the Headmistress.

Miss Smith (top infants) was short, stout and not exactly cuddly. This lady took no prisoners and was the Doyenne of infant teachers: the Nemesis of countless naughty boys...and girls!

In those days, you could whack-em, cane-em and strap-em: all of which Miss Smith did with gusto. I mention no names but there were certain boys who went through this procedure at least once a week and it must surely have hurt because Miss Smith was pretty meaty!!

If the miscreant offered resistance to being spanked, caned or slippered, his head was usually wrapped in the classroom roller towel to facilitate the operation. (Child abuse!!!!!)

The rest of us regarded it as a little light entertainment: a welcome diversion from long-division and times' tables. It had no lasting effect because the offender was usually in receipt of another dose a few days later but it was all taken in good part and no one ever complained- especially not parents. In fact, most were quite grateful: especially one mum whose husband was in the regular Army, posted abroad, and who could not persuade her errant 7 year old son to toe the line. Miss Smith, as always, obliged.

Her classroom overlooked the playground on the corner of Berridge Road/Brushfield Street and she had reigned supreme in there for many years.

I recall decorating that room at Christmas time with huge rolls of tin foil: narrow strips of silver, red and gold out of which had been stamped circular milk bottle tops (remember those?). Really easy to slice little fingers on the edges of that stuff. Wouldn't be allowed today, of course, but then, what is allowed now that's any fun? 'Elf and Safety reigneth supreme. We made 'stained glass windows' with coloured cellophane and sugar paper, paper lanterns and there were showers and showers of glitter, usually all over the floor! I fashioned a Christmas table decoration out of an empty Dairylea cheese box, filled with plaster of paris, glittery baubles, plastic holly and a red candle in the centre. We had it for years, along with an alligator made of clay and painted green. My mother hated reptiles and couldn't bear the sight of it but it sat on our windowsill at home for months until she 'accidentally' knocked it off and broke it. Her remorse was so convincing that I promptly made her another!

For those who had been good, Friday afternoon was a 'bring your own activity' time. My best pal Jane (Hazelwood Road) and I usually brought some knitting. Our parents bought us little cardboard baskets filled with wool and small plastic needles (they're not around any more either) and we'd sit in a corner like two old biddies, needles clacking, putting the infant world to rights. Jane could knit properly because her mum, Jessie, was a professional knitter and had taught her brilliantly, while I specialised mainly in holes surrounded by wool! We also had knitting nancies which produced a long woollen rope.

During this time, there had been huge changes in the adjoining building with the departure of Berridge Senior Boys and the conversion of the whole edifice to an infant/junior department. By the time I moved there (September 1965) numbers were at an all-time high and I was sent ahead a year, along with 5 others who were considered bright: but we weren't bright enough to feign stupidity (if you get my drift)!

We spent that year with the wonderful Mrs Price on the first floor of the main building, where the Headteacher was Mr J W Baugh.

Now a lot of mothers didn't like Mr Baugh: they complained that he had favourites among the pupils. I thought he was a thoroughly nice chap (perhaps because I was one of those favourites) whose sardonic sense of humour appealed to me and reminded me very much of my own father.

When I visited Berridge for the 100th anniversary in 1983, I was bitterly disappointed to learn that Mr Baugh had recently passed on. Such a shame: I'd have liked to renew his acquaintance and thank him for his contribution to my education. He retired in 1978.

Each Friday morning, he'd stride into Assembly carrying two notebooks, one green and one black, whilst also brandishing a cane. The green book contained the name of the week's hard workers; the black book contained the names of miscreants who would be called out for a few strokes across the back of the legs or the palms of the hands. Even though I was a favourite of his, I still lived in fear of my name getting into that black book and trembled slightly when I saw him patrolling the school, joking that his 'caning arm' needed a bit of exercise! Fortunately, he never exercised it on me!

At home time, many children made a bee-line for Merriman's shop on the corner of Oakland Street/Berridge Road. Kindly people the Merrimans who must have made a small fortune out of Berridge pupils before they emigrated to Australia in the early 1970s.

Have to stop now to listen to 'Dolly' and have a good old weep! Thanks for that!

[katyjay 5,091]

Great stuff, you should get it published. I'm on the edge of me seat now, waiting for the next episode. And who the heck is Dolly and why do you have to have a good old weep? I'm a long time away from your shores, what am I missing?

[Jill Sparrow 10,305]

Who's Dolly? Well...there was this iconic programme (radio) called Listen With Mother and it ran from 1950 to (I believe 1980). 1.45pm every weekday (followed by Woman's Hour). It was nursery rhymes and stories for children for 15 minutes. Presenters were Dorothy Smith, Edward Sinclair (I think) and a host of others with reassuring, soothing voices. Us kiddies sang along with them. Each week a different piece of classical music opened the programme and it always ended with 'Berceuse' from Faure's 'Dolly Suite'. My childhood was such a happy time that this piece still makes me cry with nostalgia...and believe me, I'm not an emotional person!

Apparently, there was an outcry when this programme was axed in 1980: not from children but from people of my age who still listened to it. So I was told by the BBC, so it must be true, eh?

Sorry you missed it but you can hear archive recordings on the Net.

[katyjay 5,091]

OK, now I'm with you. I too listened to Listen with Mother, I was born in 46. I see from your email address that you really are Jill Sparrow. When I first saw your name I thought you were a female version of Jack Sparrow from Pirates of the Caribbean!

[Jill Sparrow 10,305]

No, I'm the real thing and if you think a name like Sparrow is wonderful, well....you could be wrong. And before you ask, no I don't "tweet"! I'm the last of the line and when I'm gone there ain't no more. This is why I'm so keen to preserve Sparrow history because (originally from Gloucestershire) they were a bit of a 'rum' lot!

[StephenFord 866]

Daphne Oxenford, Eileen Browne, Julia Lang... names that spring to mind and roll off the tongue like the sequence of stations on a long closed branch line (if you'll pardon the mixed metaphor) !

[Paulus 541]

Jill (Sparrow) a beautiful post, full of crystal clear memories. I recall the day my daughter started school and how I came home, made myself a cup of tea, sat down and felt so utterly lost.

With a Wonderful memory such as yours, I do hope that you continue posting on 'Nottstalgia'.

PS: thanks to Paulus, for his kindness in downloading 'Berceuse'.

PPS: forgot to mention Jill, how fortunate you are to have the name of a bird: 'Sparrow' - so beautiful - wished I had the name of a bird.

YooHoo!

Duck, Partridge, Goose, Turkey, ..............Take yer pick, they're all very seasonal................but none go very well with Christine, so I suggest you stick with waht your parents gavce you.............

[katyjay 5,091]

Here you go Christine, birds with Jackson in the name.

Jackson's Francolin

Jackson's Hornbill

Jackson's Pipit

Jackson's Widowbird

[katyjay 5,091]

OK, somebody get this thread back on course.

[jackson 301]

Katyjay, I think for me it will have to be, either: 'Jackson Hornbill' or 'Jackson Pippet'; 'Jackson Hornbill' because it sounds like dancing and 'Jackson Pippet' because I like the sound of it.

There's no harm in us getting 'back on course', 'cos this thread is wonderful of course!

[.... 23]

OK, somebody get this thread back on course.

My school had pigeons in the roof if that's any help?

[Paulus 541]

I was very quiet during first days at school, but got put next to a girl that snorted when she laughed (more of a GUFFAW) and a lad that wet himself regularly, always smelled of wee.....................him not me!! Happy days (daze)

[denshaw 2,871]

My first day at school was Manor Park at Calverton, at break time i went home.

[susyshoes 69]

My first day at Spring Street Infants school had me crying for the whole duration. I was a real Mummys girls and wouldn't let her leave me anywhere . I used to come home every lunchtime as i didnt want to stay 'school dinners' and then cry again when i had to go back. I remember we used to have a 'clay pit' in the classroom and I wouldnt go anywhere near it because i didnt like getting my hands dirty. I think for the first 2 or 3 years of my school life i must have cried every morning. Made my poor mum ill. She always says that when i had children of my own, she couldnt believe how hard i was with them because I was such a mardy child myself.