School
“I loved going to school.
I loved coming home from school.
It was just the bit in the middle I couldn’t stand.”
This seems to be, more often than not, most people’s attitude to their formative, institutionalised years. There is so often that roll of the eyes accompanied by an almost exhausted yawn and “Oh God, I hated school”.
Well, I’d like to state for the record that I did NOT hate school.
I actually have, for the most part, very fond memories of the place.
Maybe I was unusually lucky. Perhaps it’s just the benefit of rose-tinted hindsight but I had a great circle of friends, some wonderful and, wait for it, likeable teachers; I would go so far as to say that I actively enjoyed more than a handful of subjects and as a result, I suppose, came out with some very respectable grades (with the exception of maths, for which I received a U prompting my teacher, Mrs Warbis, to sigh “Well, at least you failed with style”). And this was before the exams got all easy, as the newspapers inform me is the case these days.
Even the teachers so many of us said we despised, whilst we were at school, I now recall with great fondness and, dare I say it, respect.
Certainly, at the time, being given “lines” for not having done your “lines” properly seemed like an unutterable waste of resources, time and effort but it didn’t half hammer home the concept of irony. Thank you, Mr Hickman.
I remember the palpable excitement whooshing through the room when Mr Lewis would announce, after an hour or so observing the curriculum, “Right, that’s enough of the bollocks. Let’s explore the universe!” and we would talk about space, the practical application of worm-holes in time travel, touch on string theory and then, inevitably, blow something up with magnesium.
On the one occasion I did get sent to the Headmaster’s office, I recall the fug of cigarette smoke, the rich musk of brandy and the unexpectedly warm welcome I received. I can’t recall what I had done, but I didn’t do it again. Not out of fear, but just that it had been explained as simply unnecessary and therefore probably didn’t warrant a repeat performance.
Maybe it’s just that the late 80’s, early 90’s were a good few years to be at Dorothy Stringer High School. I’d like to think that it was still a good place to go. I’ve no idea, I’ve not had reason to look into it in any depth. I dare say it is, though.
I wouldn’t have worn an “I <3 School” t-shirt then, but I might now.
