Illustrations: School photograph and Rising Sun Sports programme)

I remember my very first day at school, hanging up my coat on a peg, and being shown to the classroom, and then wondering where my mother had got to?

How was your very first day at school for you?

My very first memory is of being asked to read the word ‘house’ at the teacher’s desk, and even though she pointed to the corner of the room, where the Wendy house was, to give me a little clue, I remained bamboozled. I just didn’t get it. I couldn’t link the two together! For the ‘corner’ and the 'Wendy house', had nothing to do with the word I thought was pronounced ‘hoose’. Where was the ‘w’, if that word was indeed ‘house’?

Here I am, in my very first school photograph (attached) in a see-saw with a boy called Ian. I look like the chubbiest child in the class, but it must be obvious to anyone with eyes to see, that it’s because I’m in the foreground, closer to the camera! Only by looking at this photo, do I actually recall the Santa Claus calendars we made, but not so much the Santa Claus frieze on the wall.

I wonder if anyone, apart from myself, knows who the other children are? Two or three stand out for me. Linda, Margaret and Diane.

I don’t remember all that much about Addison Potter Infant School, Willington Quay, but I distinctly remember the teachers' kind faces, but the headmistress was soon to become someone I feared.

I was a good little girl really, an innocent. I would never have said ‘Boo!” to a goose, or hurt anyone; well, not intentionally, but unfortunately, I ended up doing just that!

In my second class, it was when the teacher was writing on the blackboard and wasn’t watching, that I decided to poke my friend in the back with my pencil, to try and get her attention; as she was doing her work, and ignoring me. So, I poked her again a couple of times! I honestly didn’t realise that this was painful for her, never having had this done to me before.

The very next day, I was sent for by the headmistress. My teacher called out my name, and told me to go straight to her room. My immediate reaction was to feel very special, that the headmistress should want to speak with me, but why? What had I done to deserve this honour, why did she want to see just me and no-one else in my class? I was perplexed. I had no idea I was walking into an ambush!

Looking back, my situation was very like a TV programme where a group of Texas Rangers were led into a canyon, only to be shot at and killed, betrayed by a man they had trusted. Only one of them survived, with the help of a passing ‘injun’ named Tonto. Who was that man in the mask?

He was the Lone Ranger!

I knocked at the headmistress’s door politely, and entered when I heard her call me in. She questioned my behaviour from the day before, and I was quick to admit that, yes, I had tried to get my friend’s attention by poking her with my pencil.

I was quick then to pick up the fact that she was extrememly angry with me! She told me what a stupid thing that was for me to do, and what a silly little girl I was. Then she told me to put out my hand, and straighten my fingers right out. She then took hold of my arm, and from out of nowhere came a thick leather strap, which came down at speed, on my palm, with full force! The sudden pain was excruciating, like red-hot fire!

I must have only been five or six years old! My other hand got exactly the same treatment. No wonder I 'm still rather intimidated by towering authority figures!

I looked up at the headmistress, my eyes swimming with tears, lips trembling; and there, standing slightly behind her, was my friend’s mother, smiling with satisfaction at a deed well done. I couldn't believe it, I had even played in her house!

I was ordered back to my classroom, and I shuffled straight to my desk distraught, and I buried my face in my arms and sobbed. My hands were hurting, and were marked and swollen.

Tears still come to my eyes as I think about it now. I had learned my lesson the hard way. I certainly didn't poke anyone ever again, but please don’t see this as a recommendation to bring back corporal punishment!

Some weeks later, whilst doing Physical Education (PE) in the hall, this same friend and I bumped into each other. It was an accident, but she was very quick to suggest bringing her mother back to school again! I followed her around the hall, whining piteously begging her not to, not ever again.

School wasn’t a pleasant place. for me to be all of a sudden, and my sister, who had always been there to protect me, now wasn’t there for me. I had been enjoying infant school up until then.

Joan and I soon travelled to school separately. We left home together but when she went to call for her friend, I called for one of mine, a younger girl called Marjorie. Her house was my first port of call, I would get there early to feast my eyes on her hair ribbons which hung over the fireguard in twos, all neatly ironed. These satin ribbons were of every possible colour; tartan, gold and silver ones too, and I would gaze on them in admiration, coveting them, as her mother decided which ones she would tie on to her daughter’s plaits that day. I was desperate to possess ribbons just like Marjorie’s. So I grew my hair long from then on, so that mam would buy some coloured ribbons for me.

My favourite teacher in the infant school was Mrs Elliot, in top class, simply because she was so kind and understanding; and she explained everything carefully. She was just what you hoped for in a teacher really. Children respond to teachers who care about them, and they have an inbuilt sense of whether a teacher likes them or not. I came to learn in life that if you want to be able to teach, you have to love the children you’re teaching.

At seven years of age, we transferred to the Addison Potter Junior school, where a strict teacher was hot on spellings. Anyone who got more than three wrong, would usually be given, guess what?

The belt!

My spelling became pretty exceptional because of this. She certainly got the job done, but at what cost?

I was so nervous about one spelling test in particular, that I checked my spellings with a girl sitting next to me, and we both altered one or two words we weren’t sure of! The spellings were all handed in, but when they were given back, this girl and I were brought out to the front, on a 'cheating charge'. It was true, we had cheated. Terror of the belt had made cheats of us, and we were both told to stretch out one hand!

Good grief not again! Whack! Whack!

This time the tears flowed over lunch, at my Nana’s home, where I declared I wasn’t going back to school ever again, and no-one could make me. I had kept my pencil poking crime to myself, the first time around, because I felt so ashamed, but this time I was a broken soul, and I couldn’t hide what had happened to me.

Of course, Nana passed all this information on to my parents. Now it was the turn of my own irate mother to march into school. I begged her not to, I feared the consequences, but she wouldn’t listen. Now it was a teacher’s turn to be sent for by a headteacher, and I was the only one who knew why she had been called to his office in class time. I watched her leave the room. What would she do to me when she got back? I was rigid with terror.

I couldn’t help but glance up at her, on her return. And as she walked through the door, she glared straight at me, with such a murderous look on her face, that my blood ran cold.She turned, and marched straight to her desk, saying nothing.

Our class never saw that belt again!

School had its lighter moments though, one through my comic addiction.

Not only did I love the Dandy comic, and the Beano, but a couple of new ones came flooding onto the market in the fifties, which were comics for girls. One was Judy, the other Bunty, and they made interesting reading. It was one of these once, that carried some interesting facts about the height of Georgian hairstyles and wigs.

 I was about to impress everyone with such knowledge, because that very same week, the headmaster came into our class of nine to ten-year-olds to ask us all a maths question.

I must explain at this point that my understanding of maths has always been questionable, apart from my multiplication tables. We all used to chant;

'One four is four; two fours are eight, three fours are twelve, and so on. . .we all said them ‘by rote’, like robots, often miming the ones we weren’t sure of, hoping the bright ones would carry our tables through to completion. I was no mathematician however, and I think the teacher knew that.

And so the headmaster put his question to us. Standing at the front of the class, and leaning onto the front desk, he looked at us all, with a serious face, and said:

”Who can tell me what is half of three and three quarters?”

Silence.

One bright girl put her hand up and guessed, “One and a half?”

“Wrong” he replied, “who else would like to try?”

Bringing my expert knowledge of Georgian wig measurements to the fore, and also the fact that one wig in my comic, had measured one foot, eleven and ‘seven eighths’ of an inch, I put up my hand and said, “One and seven-eighths!”

It was pure guesswork, and it was the closest fraction to a half that I knew. My headmaster’s jaw fell wide open?

He looked at our teacher, the teacher looked at him, then they both looked at me, gobsmacked! As was I.

Seemingly it was the correct answer!

I felt so proud, until he asked me,

“And how did you arrive at that answer?”

I thought it best to keep that knowledge to myself. Had I confessed that I had seen that fraction in my Bunty comic, I would have gone down in his estimation, but now he and my teacher thought I was a little genius! So, I just blushed profusely, said nothing, and began staring down at my desk.

The first girl, the brainy one, whose answer had been one and a half, suddenly thrust her hand into the air to explain to everyone the working out that I should have been able to explain. I was off the hook! I didn’t have to explain after all, and I went home triumphant, because my head teacher and teacher had been so impressed with my brilliant answer.

(I still find that sum hard to explain today! Are you able to?)

In those days, a child could be promoted and placed up one year, into a higher class, and then have to spend two years in the top class. But there in top class, we had a teacher who never once took us for a PE lesson! That was her biggest failing in my opinion, because I loved sport. Perhaps it was because she wasn’t really built for it?

She was a small rotund finicky lady, who was always patting her hair at the back, and rounding it off, and then smoothing her ample bosom and tucking it in, even talking to herself in her unguarded moments, when she thought no-one was watching.

(If you are able to identify these teachers I’ve mentioned, please do not name them!)

Now a young student teacher arrived in school one day, and she asked us to bring our PE kit in for a lesson! I was so excited! On that memorable day, I wore a white T shirt, white shorts, (white ribbons by then), white socks and sandshoes. Our lesson with that student was my best ever!

Joan and I were sociable creatures, and sometimes got invited to schoolfriends’ homes for tea, and we were told by mam to be polite and be on our best behaviour. My table manners couldn’t have been much to speak of then, because when I saw the tomato sauce trickling down the side of this family's ketchup bottle, I carefully licked it up.

I don’t think I got invited there again. Her mother was shocked, as was mine when Joan reported the incident later; she was obviously ashamed of her little sister. Another lesson learnt!

I remember playing hide and seek in my own friend’s house one day, when I spotted a coloured elastic band under the table where I was hiding. I reasoned to myself that I needed it, to keep my hair tied up, (which was by now much longer.) and also no-one would miss it! So I succumbed to the temptation! Finders-keepers and all that! I put it in my pocket without even asking if I could have it. 

Isn’t it strange then that something as trivial as an ordinary elastic band could affect my conscience for quite a while afterwards? God knew all about it, even if no-one else did! But I kept it, because I needed it, and I said nothing. Another of God’s commandments was in tatters! Coveting, now theft!

I didn’t have a special friend to call my own in top class in Junior school. I was the odd one out in a group of three girls, two of whom lived near each other, and they were already close friends because they travelled to school together. They could easily fall out with me, but they always still had each other. One day, in order to win back the favour of one of them who wasn’t speaking to me, I took into school a picture of Elvis Presley, a pop star I knew she liked. I placed his picture in her desk before she arrived in the classroom, and waited for her reaction. She walked in, came straight to her desk right next to me, and opened the lid. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her pick up the photograph of her favourite pop star, and she looked around and asked.

“Who put this picture of Elvis in my desk?”

I replied softly, ”I did!”

She snorted, “Right, we’re friends again!”

And she sat down.

I was so very grateful to her for being my friend again!

I much preferred the company of boys; they weren’t as complicated as girls. I'm almost sure though that I was the fastest runner of any boy or girl my age, in the playground or so I believed!

In games involving running or chasing, no-one could tag or catch me. But, in the game of ‘Catchy Kissy’, I could run very slowly indeed, that is if it was the boys turn to chase the girls. When it was the girls’ turn to chase the boys, I was once again the fastest runner.

Playtimes were such fun. Playing ‘Jacks’ was a great game, where you tossed a small ball in the air, and had to pick up small metal criss-cross shapes, in twos, then in threes, then in fours and so on; sweeping the jacks up and catching the bouncing ball before it touched the ground again.

We also used to do swaps with ‘scraps’. These were shiny cut-out illustrations of cherubs, flowers and animals, which we stored carefully in the pages of a book. A really large scrap could be exchanged for three small ones, if you had a good business head on you.

Then there was hopscotch, which we played with a stone, or an empty shoe tin, which was thrown into chalk squares numbering 1-10, and we had to hop to the stone or tin, then balance on one leg and pick it up and then hop back. 

We also skipped with a large rope, and at the same time we chanted rhymes as the rope was swung,Then it was swung at double time, (we called this ‘peppers’,) this was done so the one who skipped would make a mistake, and then discover something about their future:

I found the rhymes recently on the internet.

When shall I marry?

This year, next year, sometime, never.

What will my husband be?

Tinker, tailor, soldier, sailor, rich-man, poor-man, beggar-man, thief, a doctor, a lawyer an Indian chief

What will I be?

Lady, baby, gypsy, queen, elephant, monkey, tangerine

What shall I wear?

Silk, satin, cotton, rags

How shall I get it?

Given, borrowed, bought, stolen.

How shall I get to church?

Coach, carriage, wheelbarrow, cart.

Where shall I live?

Big house, little house, pig-sty, barn.

We would also do handstands against the wall with our skirts tucked into our knickers, going down into a crab position, that is if we were supple enough! 

We also played ‘What time is it Mr Wolf?’ As long as the wolf turned round to us and said an ‘o’clock’, we were safe, and could advance forward, but if the wolf shouted, ‘Dinner time!’ you turned and ran before the wolf caught you.

We also played netball and made up our own rules, with no teacher there to supervise us.

“You are far too close!” said one older girl to me, as I defended the goal against her.

“No I’m not, my sister told me you have to be three feet away!” I replied.

“Don’t contradict me!” she yelled and stamped down heavily onto my foot.” Ow! It really hurt!

As this girl netted the ball, and strode triumphantly back to the centre circle, all I could think of to say to others was,

“What does contradict mean?”

I was such a wimp?

 It’s funny the things you recall in life; the proud moments, the tragic moments; the shocks and surprises!

As well as being a fast runner in Junior school, I was a fast swimmer too, as I got lots of practice with my many cousins, on holidays and outings. But I was so proud to be chosen to represent my school for the under 9’s Wallsend schools sports day, held at the Rising Sun Sports field, in the July of 1958.

Unfortunately, my parents were both working, so they couldn’t take me there. So, a friend’s mother gave me tea and took me there, along with her own daughter, who was in the same race as me, but in a different heat. The sports day was due to start at 6.00 p.m.

We were rather pushed for time, getting out of their house, and had to hurry down the street to wait for the bus. But then, once we reached the terminus in Wallsend, the driver got out of his cab, and decided to take a very long comfort break! I was really concerned that we’d be late for my race. We seemed to wait ages for him to return, then the bus seemed to take forever to get to the place where the race was being held, and sure enough, we were late!

We arrived as Event 10, heat 2 was being run, which was my race, and my heat, so I never got the chance to represent my school! My friend, her daughter, was in the next heat, heat 3, and she was just in time to run her race.

Talk about disappointment! I was devastated.

Years later, my husband Bob showed me a programme of that Sports day, (attached) both of our names are listed there!

I’m mentioned in the Under 9 girls’ sprint as S Appleby, and he is mentioned in the Under 12 boys’ sprint as R Hamil. In fact, his school won the cup for best school performance when it came to presentation time. I clearly remember a boy holding a cup and being hoisted onto his friends’ shoulders at the time. That was the boy who became my husband, Bob.

So even though I was extremely miserable that day, I was allowed a brief glimpse of a brighter and glorious future, though I didn’t know it at the time!