Many will recall the system of
A,.B., and C denoting how sharp your pencils were when you sat the 11 plus for
secondary schooling. I started off in 1A in Mr Hodgeson's class but by the time
I was half way through 2A I had been put down to 2B coming close the
bottom of the class in the A form. Some personal issues on the homefront had
some bearing on this but that aside I was never fully focused on class projects
thinking more about watching the 6.18 pm pass through on the Barrow shunt than
which was Henry VIII 's third wife, or what Pythagoras was or
did.
Needless to say the demotion saw
different teachers enter my world . Mr Lancaster took us in the second form and
he was a great teacher, and loved the outdoors and took a sympathetic approach
to my struggles at the time. Besides finding Art to be my best subject I loved
music but failed to comprehend the notes or the way music was written , yet
would listen to my fathers records at home including Peter Dawson 'The
Legion of the Lost', Nelson Eddie Jeanette MacDonald, and alot of Orchestra's .
In the third year (1966-67) we had Mr Bannister as form teacher and being a keen
sports teacher I found that rather a trial and still had a total dislike for any
sports , often hoping it would rain so we would not have to go to Croft Park, as
by now I had been passed fit to play rugby and cricket and soccer but not having
been involved in the first few years made me even less keen now. Dad would take
me to Barrow Football ground to watch a match to try and entice me into the
enthusiasm of it , but the main enthusiasm I found was not the match but seeing
all the double decker buses lines up in Holker Street after the game. That was
the weekend highlight as far as I was concerned.
In 4B our form teacher was Mr
Spencer, a rye witty man but sharp with his teaching and things began to pick up
for me . For Maths we had Mr Watkins and frail timid man who found himself out
of his depths with 4B -aka the story last time about the tables. We were a rough
class 35 plus and a challenge for any young teacher. Mr Watkins got so upset
with our behaviours one day he stormed out , of course the troublemakers soon
got to work firing pellets across the room with many of us ducking for cover,
however one hit a light and it shattered into thousands of tiny pieces. The
noise alerted Mr Lyons (sorry in blog 26 I spelt his name incorrect) on
the floor below. He charged in and gave us all good telling off but as he came
in the room quietened down so you could only hear the sound of broken glass been
walked on , and he never even looked down . After the telling off he walks out
again, crunch crunch crunch, but nobody spoke, after he left the room the class
erupted into howls of laughter. Mr Watkins returned after a couple of smokes and
stiff black coffee in the staff room.
In the fourth form our English
teacher was Mr Melon, a broad fit looking Australian with piercing blue eyes and
blond hair who looked more like a German Panzer Division leader .Each week we al
had to read a passage from a book chosen by him , in one of Charles Dickens
novels one of the lads was having trouble pronouncing the words correctly , we
had already had a few amusing words or phrases not as Dickens intended and Mr
Melon was getting a little bemused about it .Finally when it came to one lad who
I will call George , he read out the line " the gentleman asked the young
lady if she would care to sit on his penny farthing " but he read it as"the
gentleman asked the young lady if she would care to sit on his penny
fart-hing!!!, to which Mr Melon erupted in a loud roar of laughter
followed by the class. George did not understand what he had just said believing
it the correct wording. We also had plays each Christmas and for our 1967
production we did the Tinder Box in which I played a woman. Mr Melon was bemused
by my hairy legs and wondered if I should shave them but instead I wore apair of
dark ladies stockings, this was my first theatrical role and one that does not
appear on my cv !!!!
At the end of the summer term 1968
several teachers came out onto Duke Street to see their cars had been physically
moved , whether left open or broken into I do not know but as it was the last
day for several of our class, those not choosing to continue for another year
-mainly the troublemakers , it meant the culprits could be hard to find. The
cars were left strewn over the pavement and against the wall of the school. At
the time it looked hilarious but on reflection it was probably not nice thing to
do as property was probably interfered with plus a rather disrespectful way to
say goodbye to those who had given their time and energy.
It was however form 5b that saw
things really come ahead , the class had dropped to about 24 from around
38. We had to buckle down for CSE exams and work hard to get projects done of
our choice. Mr Lyons was now our form teacher and during certain periods he
would let us all have some freetime to browse at magazines he brought in. The
one I loved to read was Punch magazine and the many cartoons and styles of
drawing. Trog, Larry, Bill Tidy amongst many very talented people and humorous
writers like Alan Coren and William Davis who was the editor . I wrote to
him asking for information about drawing cartoons and still have his letter to
this day wishing me all the best. Something stirred inside, I began to realise
what humour with drawings can generate in both general topics and serious ones.
In History Mr Blackburn asked each
of us to write a project on something important to Britain. I choose the GPO and
ended up visiting the Abbey Road postal offices and sorting rooms , travelling
to the GPO tower in London almost bran new at the time and reading many books
for information. In Geography a project on the history of Barrow Docks saw
visits to the port with permission to see Athersmiths trucks unloading wood pulp
for the Barrow Paper Mills. My father spent hours at the Barrow Library
researching in books on the towns history and will never forget the help he gave
me . In Science we did a project on Roose Power Station with science teacher Mr
Clemens. A visit to the station is another event I shall never
forget.
Each morning at assembly in the new
hall one of the fifth form boys had to read a passage from the Bible ,standing
beside the teacher. When it came to my turn I knew I did not carry alot of
volume in my voice and looking out on a sea of faces would be difficult, however
for whatever reasons made me do it, come the morning in question I stood up on
the stage and read it projecting the sermon out to all. The look on Mr Westall
's face( R.I.) said it all. He had told me one day I will have my say , whether
a passing comment or knew something I did not, time has revealed him
correct.
At the end of the summer term and
indeed the end of my school days t the ALF'S in 1969, I came out top of the
class in English, Art , History , and Geography . The Barrow Docks project was
top project and the best the teacher had ever seen and the History of the GPO
was consided the best project in the North West of England that year by the
Education Board, so much that it was sent to London by request of the GPO
as a training manual for their future management .
A hard years work had paid off, and
my father and mother who had at times despaired of my lack of
enthusiasm for grasping basic ideas were at last proud and happy
parents.
Before finishing at the ALF'S I
had one last parting gift. I drew the teachers in various stages of
adversity and presented them with each drawing the day I left. I recall seeing
tears in Mr Lyons eyes, something which moved the rest of the
class.
Well today I don't know how many of
our old masters are still with us of my classmates, but I hope if you are
reading this it brings back some happy memories, as for me I thank you all
for giving us your time and enriching our lives as we all do in the beautiful
chapters of all our lives.
lovely to read you posting on the Alf,s Wallace, my late father Wilf was a pupil there from 1936 - 39, the Shillitoe days, and was immensely proud of the fact. We worked for both David Shillitoe and Bert Smith, repairing their plumbing in their respective homes, I'm actually celebrating 25 years since I joined up with my dad this very day. Bert may well have moved on before you arrived, there's been a fair bit about him in the Evening Mail as he'd have been a hundred years old a week or so back. Best wishes, and many thanks,
Alan Tomlinson, (Hindpool Lad)
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