A bad lot!
“Bye mum!” we all called out, as we clambered out the door. “Cheerio” called mum. We made our way to the train station and boarded the train that would take us to school. We reached our destination, piled off the train and out of the station. It was a normal school day and we hurried along, not wanting to be late. It was the familiar walk through the Pentonville Prison grounds, past the brewery and into the school. We made our way to the cloakroom and hung our coats up before entering the assembly hall.
The morning assembly was absolutely packed. The whole school attended, daily, including all the teachers and staff. The headmaster got up to address the school, as he always did. He came up to the microphone. “I want the Leach’s to stay behind after assembly” he said, and continued with his announcements. My heart jumped as I heard our name. What ever could it be about.
By this time there was probably three or four of us girls in that school. We dutifully stayed behind, not knowing what awaited us, and feeling quite nervous. The headmaster came across with an even more tight lipped expression than was usual. “I have received a complaint from the stationmaster” he said. “Somebody has been writing vulgar things, and swearwords all over the toilet walls, at the train station, and as you use that station, I have decided it must be you.” Without even allowing us to speak, he promptly walked to his office and came back brandishing a long bamboo cane. We prepared ourselves for what was about to come. “Hold out your hands” He lifted the cane high and brought it down swiftly and forcibly on our outstretched hands. ‘Thwack’, ‘thwack’, ‘thwack’…….. Two swipes each! With our hands throbbing and stinging, we walked to our respective classes to start the days lessons. Holding a pen was not easy.
My mum and dad were good honest people who taught us all good manners and made sure we knew right from wrong. They were not drinkers and they never used bad language, which obviously meant we didn’t either. Dad was hard working and mum was a stay at home mum, who spent time with her children. All in all, we were a decent family, with decent values.
Horror of horrors! Mum and dad had seven children! I hear you saying “The Waltons” Well it was a bit like the Waltons without sugar.
In those days, if you had lots of children it was assumed that they were trouble makers, thieves, would have behaved like thugs and generally be a bad lot. So that was our label with the teachers at school. Unlike schools today, in the 1950’s teachers didn’t get to know their pupils, therefore we, of course, were a bad lot and guilty of all the wrong doing by others. We got used to it.
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JD at I Do Things | 1 June 2008 at 22:10
Oh, my gosh! I was once wrongly accused as a schoolchild, but there was no physical punishment involved. I can still remember the feeling, tho. I had always been a good kid, and it just shocked me that an authority figure could think I’d done something bad.
Poor young Babs!
JD at I Do Things
Babs (Beetle) | 1 June 2008 at 22:32
JD: It was a bad feeling, and I suppose it left it’s mark. I do lack confidence and self worth a tad ;O)
Drowsey Monkey | 2 June 2008 at 4:01
So, they did that and you guys weren’t even the guilty party? That’s awful! Thank god teacher’s aren’t allowed to use corporal punishment anymore.
Babs (Beetle) | 2 June 2008 at 12:23
Drowsey Monkey: That wasn’t the only time!
weechuff | 2 June 2008 at 17:15
I never went to that school fortunately, but it really upsets me all these years later to hear stories like that. As Babs says, we were a good bunch of children, and to this day, some 50 odd years later, we still don’t swear! Yes, in our day, the cane was used often! I remember my first day at a new secondary school when I knew no-one, getting sent out for the cane for speaking in class. I was so painfully shy, I would never have spoken, especially when I knew no-one. Luckily, the headmaster realised how shy I was, and just smiled and sent me back to the class. I was still mortified though, knowing that everyone thought I had had a well deserved caning:0(
Jay | 3 June 2008 at 0:38
Yikes! That is just so wrong!! I was caned in my primary school (up to ten/eleven years old) and my memory is that I did nothing to deserve it. I still resent it, too, though I had forgotten it, until this post reminded me. Maybe it’s why I talked the ears off my own kids instead of slapping them, in a time when slapping would have been socially acceptable.
Babs (Beetle) | 3 June 2008 at 3:35
Jay: Although the cane was painful, the feeling of being thought of as somebody who would behave like that, was what really hurt.
Swubird | 3 June 2008 at 14:52
Babs:
What a sad, sad story. You were guilty without even being given a chance to state your side of the story. Sad.
When I was a little kid the teacher called a bunch of us out of class and accused us of writing a note with very bad language to a little girl. Never mind what the note said. My heart was racing since I knew I didn’t do it, but I was scared since everyone knew that I like the little girl. The teacher made us all write a few words on a sheet of paper, and then she determined who the guilty person was by comparing their handwriting. Whew! It wasn’t me.
Wonderful story Babs. Loved reading it.
Have a nice day.
Christine and FAZ | 3 June 2008 at 18:36
Gosh, some people are so narrow minded. Mind you, you seem to have turned out very nicely and I guess experience helps us all understand the world and put things in context.
Sindie | 3 June 2008 at 19:02
Oh my goodness, I am aghast! That is horrific treatment. Who was this teacher, I shall track him down and punish him!!!!
Babs (Beetle) | 3 June 2008 at 19:58
Swubird: That must have been so embarrassing for you. At least you were proven innocent.
Christine: Everything that happened to me as a child helped make me who I am today, so I’m thankful for a lot of it ;O)
Sindie: All of the teachers gave children the cane, and many worse punishments too! – This time it was the headmaster!
Croom | 4 June 2008 at 20:59
Babs do you remember the school holiday and getting the ‘spiky hair brush’ on our butts for not moving our suit cases quick enough?
Horrid days, we were such a timid lot too.
Tinax