Heads and Teachers

Miss Fleming was an imposing Headmistress. She was tall and always wore her gown, and if you were summoned to see her you had to wait in the Tiled Hall for the light to come on and then you entered to find her looking stern through a fug of cigarette smoke. Even today, when I read 1 Corinthians 13 it's her voice in my head.

Our teachers did not patronise us, and expected us to meet our potential: Miss Carnon, who introduced me to the plays of Shakespeare and the poetry of T.S. Eliot (“Carnon has seen Eliot,” she majestically declared, recalling a public event at the Usher Hall many years previously); Miss Littlewood, who sat on a desk at the front of the class, accidentally (I think) revealing her knee-length bloomers, to share her insights into vestal virgins; and pre-eminently Miss Fortescuse, a somewhat dishevelled woman who belied her disorderly appearance with her laser-sharp intellect. Each lesson began with vocabulary - half a dozen words a day, to be inscribed in a book: where is it now, I wonder? So we learned the difference between ‘venal’ and ‘venial’, ‘arrogate’ and ‘abrogate’ - and legion more examples of the richness and mystery of the English language.

Miss Nicholson, our headmistress. She was a tall, erect, distinguished-looking woman, who commanded great respect and affection. There was once a rather distressing happening in our class: a girl named M – – – had run away from home, although she had soon come back. I was friendly with M – – – and knew that another girl was bullying her. The next day, Miss Nicholson summoned me to her office and asked me if I knew of anyone who was being unkind to M – – –, but made it plain that she was not asking for a name. Of course I was itching to tell her who it was, but did not dare to do so. In hindsight I now see that she was very wise not to ask for a name, as I could not then be accused of “grassing anyone up”.

Moving up to George Square was exciting and scary. My sister was in Sixth Year and I remember looking up from the Central Hall to her and her friends in the Gallery during morning assembly. This was a solemn occasion, with the school orchestra playing and the staff lined up, headmistress at the lectern. Miss Nicholson was head, succeeded by Miss Fleming. The latter used to sweep along the corridors with her black gown flowing out behind… one tried to stay out her way if possible. I do remember on one occasion having to partner her in a dance, cannot think why now! She was very tall and I was not.

Male members of staff - the men, and the drift of cigarette smoke that emerged from the men’s staffroom: Mr Bogie who managed to instil some knowledge of physics into me. Mr Traill, who scared me stiff but I am grateful now for the Latin I learnt. Mr Dudley Langdon (Uncle Duddles) chasing us away from the windows of room 22, music, as we waved to the male students in the Students Union the road. Mr Henderson, Art and Mr Millar, English completed the posse.