I've been getting so much out of it, because so often you find the story behind the story.
I've also come to appreciate that when trauma is involved, you get to explore and reinterpret the layers that lie beneath. It’s like returning to an archaeological site—with new tools and broader contexts.
I'd been to a really gentle and loving primary school, and so having to go to the local comp when they scrapped the 11-plus was particularly harrowing.
In that same conversation with the headmaster, he told me that he didn't really count our year as the first year of the comp, as we were more of an experiment. They'd rushed to finish the school (adding labs, etc), but really hadn't changed anything else. He was a really horrible man, and when I said "thanks for that!" after his remark, he really didn't get it. It was all about our year being a blot on his copy book, rather than our education and futures.
Sounds like a dick. They were grim places. We had a racist headmaster which didn’t go down well in a multi cultural environment. And they were violent. Everyone jokes about the board rubber being thrown across the room at your head or the ruler being rapped across your knuckles, but I remember one lad taking a full face fist punch off a teacher that knocked him backwards over the table. That’s just one incident. I realise now that I remember these incidents so vividly because we were all stressed onlookers witnessing scenes of violence. At the time we just accepted it as normal. Incredible that we learned anything at all!
Yes, when I tell people about the everyday brutality, they don't believe it (echoes of 'The Four Yorkshiremen' sketch in that one.
I was beaten 3 or 4 times while I was there, and not once did I deserve that sort of punishment... and I was one of the good kids. Nowadays, when I think about it, I find myself wondering what had happened to them... to entice them to enter into a career where they could get away with physically abusing kids.
One of them was even a friend of my middle brother, and his specialty was doing things that didn't leave a mark... like gripping your hand in his, and then squeezing down on your nail beds, while he tightened his grip. A few months ago there was a post about him on Facebook - someone had run into him and waxing lyrically about what a nice guy he was. There was just an eerie embarrassed silence, and it was clear that the preference was to remember him favourably.
He sounds charming. Yeah it’s an odd thing, this warped nostalgia. There’s a Facebook page for my old school and they do the same on there, talk about how great it was. Don’t get me wrong, we had some laughs but it was a pretty brutal regime by today’s standards.
Love your idea of this Friday review … not for a fix type revision but for a more evolved reflection. 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼 Something AI will never be able to do.
Thanks, Lisa!
I've been getting so much out of it, because so often you find the story behind the story.
I've also come to appreciate that when trauma is involved, you get to explore and reinterpret the layers that lie beneath. It’s like returning to an archaeological site—with new tools and broader contexts.
Great analogy.
1970s/1980s northern comprehensives were tough!! I always thought if I ever forget to prison I’ve had a good grounding. Great writing.
Thanks!
I'd been to a really gentle and loving primary school, and so having to go to the local comp when they scrapped the 11-plus was particularly harrowing.
In that same conversation with the headmaster, he told me that he didn't really count our year as the first year of the comp, as we were more of an experiment. They'd rushed to finish the school (adding labs, etc), but really hadn't changed anything else. He was a really horrible man, and when I said "thanks for that!" after his remark, he really didn't get it. It was all about our year being a blot on his copy book, rather than our education and futures.
Sounds like a dick. They were grim places. We had a racist headmaster which didn’t go down well in a multi cultural environment. And they were violent. Everyone jokes about the board rubber being thrown across the room at your head or the ruler being rapped across your knuckles, but I remember one lad taking a full face fist punch off a teacher that knocked him backwards over the table. That’s just one incident. I realise now that I remember these incidents so vividly because we were all stressed onlookers witnessing scenes of violence. At the time we just accepted it as normal. Incredible that we learned anything at all!
Yes, when I tell people about the everyday brutality, they don't believe it (echoes of 'The Four Yorkshiremen' sketch in that one.
I was beaten 3 or 4 times while I was there, and not once did I deserve that sort of punishment... and I was one of the good kids. Nowadays, when I think about it, I find myself wondering what had happened to them... to entice them to enter into a career where they could get away with physically abusing kids.
One of them was even a friend of my middle brother, and his specialty was doing things that didn't leave a mark... like gripping your hand in his, and then squeezing down on your nail beds, while he tightened his grip. A few months ago there was a post about him on Facebook - someone had run into him and waxing lyrically about what a nice guy he was. There was just an eerie embarrassed silence, and it was clear that the preference was to remember him favourably.
He sounds charming. Yeah it’s an odd thing, this warped nostalgia. There’s a Facebook page for my old school and they do the same on there, talk about how great it was. Don’t get me wrong, we had some laughs but it was a pretty brutal regime by today’s standards.