Trevor recalls small incidents, and impressions of our teachers, that have remained in his memory for more than 60 years.
When I think of school, my thoughts immediately turn to Harry Fairweather, that inspirational and dedicated man whom we both respected and slightly feared at the same time,and to the example he set of deep humanity and Christian faith. In his obituary of the teacher John Ball, he said that "He served the school and its pupils for many years with academic distinction, with Christian Love, and with burning zeal." Well, so did Harry Fairweather. At Morning Assembly he wanted the hymn sung with some gusto, not always forthcoming from pupils in the first hour at school, perhaps worrying about the homework they had failed to complete the previous evening. After the first dismal verse he stopped the pianist, told him to press the loud pedal (not that there is such a thing, as pianists will know) and to keep it on, and then proceeded to beat time on the newel post at the top of the steps to the stage. The pianist, who I think was called Robinson, was experienced, and used his discretion with what is actually the sustaining pedal, which if kept on would have clouded the music hopelessly as the harmonies changed!
Harry was more expert in military matters and discipline, which could perhaps be intimidating to some. On another assembly occasion after the necessary announcements he concluded by speaking about misdemeanours and delivered this: "The following people can come and see me afterwards, they're going to get it in the neck ... ." Named and shamed, but that was his way, direct -- and of course it was also an implied warning to everyone else, conveyed by his sheer presence. But he was fair and inspired more respect than fear.
The Deputy Head for many years till his retirement was Mr Miller -- "Ming" as he was always referred to -- who was somewhat feared. An able and dedicated Senior Geography teacher, he used to wear heavy-looking boots, in which he would creep around silently, sometimes surprising people. He was the disciplinarian -- if anyone was caught talking furtively while waiting to Harry Fairweather's entrance at Assembly, and the supervising prefects felt that more than a warning was needed, the offender would be told to "See Mr Miller" and that might mean getting the slipper!
Another time involving the slipper -- or rather the gym shoe -- involved the games and gym teacher Fred Manning. At the start of one gym lesson he had prepared some equipment and wanted to show us how to use it safely. "Don't go in there until I tell you" he told us at the changing room door. For whatever reason, Ian Perks went in. "Right!" said Fred, "What did I just tell you? Come here everyone. Now who's got a big gym shoe? No, not that, a size 10!" For gym in those days we wore only thin cotton shorts and gym shoes. "Bend over!" He whacked the unfortunate lad so hard that he staggered forward three paces, still bent over, hoping there would be no more.
A teacher could sometimes be contradictory over time, leading to a pupil not responding correctly while thinking they were doing the right thing. This happened to me with "Woody" Smith, the woodwork teacher, also known for slippering people occasionally. Only the boys did woodwork. We were learning how to plane face side and face edge, using in those days teak (how values have changed!) in the first steps towards making a coffee table. I was having trouble with the Stanley plane and asked him if he would sharpen it for me. He took the plane and set off towards the other end of the room where the bench grinder was situated, and I dutifully followed him. When we got there he turned to me and said "Well, don't follow me about, go and wait by your bench." I remembered this the next time I had to ask him to sharpen a blade and stood waiting. This time it was "Well, if I'm going to sharpen it for you, the least you can do is to come and watch and learn how it's done!" Sometimes you just can't win!
I hope these memories will perhaps prompt other recollections.