The family attitude was positive and expectations concerning education were high. (Jane's brothers also attended grammar school.) All the children grew up with the expectation that they would go on to university after grammar school. (The Hudston family never had a single person go to university. In fact it was to be many years in the future before the pattern was broken.) Jane's family looked on education as a way out of the 'poverty trap'. Her parents too did not have the working class view so prevalent in the era that girls were less worthy of an education. Jane's parents instilled in her the idea that girls were equally 'worthy' in life, to the extent that Jane's father regarded Jane as not merely equal, but superior to any boy; Jane's career at the grammar school was, not surprisingly, superior to mine. Not only did she become a prefect, never in my sights, but she gained goods GCE passes, went into the sixth form and thence to university. A feat undoubtedly equalled by many others. No doubt earned by those whose attitude was different to mine and no small number of my male peers. Perhaps it was in part a 'girl thing'. Who knows, though family expectations certainly came into the equation. One final observation; As well as boys (and girls) who drifted somewhat aimlessly through school life, there were pupils like Jane and Gillian who benefited from the system. A grammar school education was for most to be prized. Such an education would normally have been beyond the grasp of ordinary working class children. A pity, then, the school had little comprehension that not all pupils saw the place mainly as a step towards a university education. Yet 'life' outside school tended to be my most important 'teacher'. Grammar School attempted, none too successfully to ensure a degree of academic success; maybe some moral standards were instilled; perhaps some of the values I would embrace in later life were just a teeny-weeny bit the result of a grammar school education. Who knows, and am I really the right person to ask of such things.
Thus we went our separate ways, originally twenty-nine amongst hundreds. Big, good-natured Alan who had arrived in year one wearing short trousers to his obvious chagrin and embarrassment; David, the oldest in the class and Tony, known as Boz because he was, in politically incorrect times, ‘boz-eyed’. Michael the posh boy from Chaddesden who often talked of holidays in Italy when few of us had been further than the East Coast; Andrew who could swear like a trooper, probably on account of his father being a regular soldier. (An assumption made due to the fact that he had a kitbag with the stencil W/O A E Dyball on it at the Mundesley school camp.)
Robert, a witty individual and Tony Roulstone, the only boys in the class to wear long trousers; Barry Thompson, by far the youngest in the class, it showed and Eric and Kenneth, the smallest boys in the class by a distance. Both keen at sport with Eric excelling; John, quiet but exceptional in the yearly swimming sports at the freezing local baths.
Peter who had the disadvantage of a severe stammer; Barry Wright who possessed a stronger than average aversion to Friday afternoon lessons; plus Tony, a shy bespectacled individual who contrived to miss three out of five of the somewhat compulsory Christmas parties, such was his shyness with the opposite sex.
I remember less concerning the girls of class 1A though I do remember being attracted to Pamela, a small attractive girl with brown hair. But it would be several years before I was capable of seriously pursuing any member of the opposite sex with even any small chance of success, never mind recognition. Most of the girls were taller than me and certainly more sexually aware. Some of the girls, even at such a tender age were more young women than we were young men. So the memories are of young girls calling the boys by their surnames and teasing, albeit mainly unintentionally with their fast developing bodies.
We boys in particular had arrived as small, some not so small individuals, mostly pre puberty innocent specimens. We left a little wiser, deeper voiced, more ignorance than innocence. If we lusted after the girls in our age group we were in the main rejected in favour of less spotty boys, almost men two or more years our elders. No matter, we were about to enter the adult world, the real world where work was expected but was rewarded with money, an exciting prospect indeed.
I eventually left the school. I had re-sat two O levels in November and I remember no discussion, at home or school as to what happened next. The intention was probably to continue in school until the summer but in fact I never returned after Christmas. Who decided this turn of events I am unsure. If anyone cared no one seemed to notice. I remember overhearing a conversation between Walter and Clara when I was in Year Five of the school. The conversation obviously concerned me and Walter uttered what to me were amazing words. “Has he left school yet?” he asked Clara in all innocence. I had been living under his roof and his guardianship for all of three years! Though it should not have come as too great a surprise for in all the years I was a pupil at Long Eaton Grammar
Thus we went our separate ways, originally twenty-nine amongst hundreds. Big, good-natured Alan who had arrived in year one wearing short trousers to his obvious chagrin and embarrassment; David, the oldest in the class and Tony, known as Boz because he was, in politically incorrect times, ‘boz-eyed’. Michael the posh boy from Chaddesden who often talked of holidays in Italy when few of us had been further than the East Coast; Andrew who could swear like a trooper, probably on account of his father being a regular soldier. (An assumption made due to the fact that he had a kitbag with the stencil W/O A E Dyball on it at the Mundesley school camp.)
Robert, a witty individual and Tony Roulstone, the only boys in the class to wear long trousers; Barry Thompson, by far the youngest in the class, it showed and Eric and Kenneth, the smallest boys in the class by a distance. Both keen at sport with Eric excelling; John, quiet but exceptional in the yearly swimming sports at the freezing local baths.
Peter who had the disadvantage of a severe stammer; Barry Wright who possessed a stronger than average aversion to Friday afternoon lessons; plus Tony, a shy bespectacled individual who contrived to miss three out of five of the somewhat compulsory Christmas parties, such was his shyness with the opposite sex.
I remember less concerning the girls of class 1A though I do remember being attracted to Pamela, a small attractive girl with brown hair. But it would be several years before I was capable of seriously pursuing any member of the opposite sex with even any small chance of success, never mind recognition. Most of the girls were taller than me and certainly more sexually aware. Some of the girls, even at such a tender age were more young women than we were young men. So the memories are of young girls calling the boys by their surnames and teasing, albeit mainly unintentionally with their fast developing bodies.
We boys in particular had arrived as small, some not so small individuals, mostly pre puberty innocent specimens. We left a little wiser, deeper voiced, more ignorance than innocence. If we lusted after the girls in our age group we were in the main rejected in favour of less spotty boys, almost men two or more years our elders. No matter, we were about to enter the adult world, the real world where work was expected but was rewarded with money, an exciting prospect indeed.
I eventually left the school. I had re-sat two O levels in November and I remember no discussion, at home or school as to what happened next. The intention was probably to continue in school until the summer but in fact I never returned after Christmas. Who decided this turn of events I am unsure. If anyone cared no one seemed to notice. I remember overhearing a conversation between Walter and Clara when I was in Year Five of the school. The conversation obviously concerned me and Walter uttered what to me were amazing words. “Has he left school yet?” he asked Clara in all innocence. I had been living under his roof and his guardianship for all of three years! Though it should not have come as too great a surprise for in all the years I was a pupil at Long Eaton Grammar
© Kenneth Stevens, 2012