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“LIGHTS OUT, NO
TALKING” |
EDUCATION |
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In 1938, the age range of boys in the school was from eleven years to sixteen years. Occasionally we had a boy over the age of sixteen, but mostly boys had left by the time they had reached that age. Nationally, at that time, the official school leaving age was fourteen. I was eleven years and one month old when I went to the school in September 1938. For some time at least, I was the youngest boy in the school. No doubt one of the new boys soon inherited that title. Although I was fourteen years and seven months old when I left in 1942, I had not been into the seamanship classes, nor had I been sent up to the senior dormitories where most boys went when leaving school. I remained in school classes for all of the three and a half years that I was there. Since my birthday was on the first of August, it seems that I would have been moved to the senior divisions and to the seamanship classes at the age of fifteen. As it was, I spent some time in each of the school classes except Form Three. Form Three was different from the rest of the school classes. It seemed to be for boys who did not progress any further academically. It was even set apart physically from the rest of the school classes, being located on the Lower Road in between the woodwork class, and the Science Room. The other school classes, Forms One, Two, Four, and Five were located on the ground floor of the Eastern wing of the school, between the main entrance and the Captain's House. Access was via the Red Corridor. I can't remember how long I spent in each class, but I seem to remember spending the least time in Form Four. Although they were all roughly the same physical size, the classrooms were not arranged in numerical order. Walking down the Red Corridor, the first classroom was Form Four, next came Form One, then Form Five, and last, Form Two. Since the four classrooms occupied the same floor area as the dormitory above (90 x 30 feet), it would be a reasonable guess that each classroom measured approximately 22 feet x 30 feet. The floors were polished wooden blocks laid in a herringbone pattern, and the rooms were reasonably light and airy. Each boy had his own desk, each desk having sufficient room under the work top to accommodate books and other learning materials. Since ball points had not yet been invented, pen and ink, and pencils were used, each desk having provision for a ceramic inkwell in the top right hand corner. (Too bad if, like me, one was left handed!) Subject taught were the standard three R's, that I had been taught in school at home. I didn't particularly enjoy school, but I didn't dislike it either. I suppose I had the same 'Let's-get-it-over-and-done-with' attitude which many pupils have. Even so, I did quite well in all the classes I was in. In all classes, we used to have exams at the end of each term. I invariably came within the first three places, and often first. Until I was in Form Five, then for some reason or other, my work deteriorated, and I no longer came top, but still within the first ten places or so. It may have been the change in teachers. When the war had been on for a year or more, the regular teacher of Form Five, Mr. Davies, was called up. He was replaced by Mr. Powell, a retired school teacher, and a very easy going person. So easy going that in fact, he gave up teaching, and remained as a part time store keeper for the school. His place was in turn taken by a Mr.Griffiths. Mr.Griffiths was a severe teacher. Although I never got on the 'wrong side' of him, I did not particularly like him . In those days, the more subtle external influences on a pupil - if indeed, their existence was ever recognised, and especially in a school such as the National Nautical School - were not taken into account when assessing a student's performance. My main memories of the four classes I was in are as follows: Form One. I started in Form One on Monday the 19th. of September, 1938. Mr. Joe - but not to his face - Tyres, was the teacher. Mr.Tyres was in his early twenties, he had short, curly ginger hair, and spoke with a 'Geordie' accent. I had never before heard such an accent. He kept a firm grip on the class, and would brook no nonsense. One of my outstanding memories of him was his favourite saying - of a boy who he found particularly obtuse - '...He's got the brains of a rocking horse - but not quite so fast!...' Exactly a week after I arrived at the school, a Welsh boy arrived, His name was Jones A.W., he was from Ebbw Vale in Monmouthshire. Jones A.W. joined Form 1 on the next Monday after I had joined, his accent was extremely broad. To me, who at that time had never really heard a Welsh accent at 'close quarters' as it were, it was almost like a foreign tongue. Since by far, the majority of boys in the school seemed to come from the London area. Accents such as mine, and certainly that of Jones A.W., were considered to be 'different'. Mr. Tyres took great delight in asking Jones to stand up in class, and read aloud from whatever we happened to be reading at the time. We could see the look on Mr.Tyres' face as he tried not to appear too obvious. We, the rest of the class, always keen for any diversion, and quite in ignorance of our own shortcomings when it came to pronunciation in the English language, listened with a sort of suppressed glee at someone else's perceived inadequacies and possible embarrassment. Jones read on, in the only way he knew how. Fortunately, he was either not aware of the amusement of the rest of the class, or he had the sense not to care - in which case, the laugh was on us! It was not long before the novelty wore off, and Jones was relegated to a normal, rotational place of reading in our English classes. It was a different story outside the classroom. Jones soon established his place in the pecking order, and remarks about his accent were kept out of his earshot. Apart from the three 'R's', the memories of lessons which remain with me from Form 1 are those of a lesson which we called simply 'News'. At that time, (September 1938) the Spanish Civil War was still in progress, and whilst we didn't understand much of the politics of the fight, we knew that Hitler and Mussolini, who were causing much concern in Europe at that time, were broadly on the side of the Nationalists under General Franco. On the other hand, tales of the ideals and selfless heroism of the International Brigade and it's members filled the newspapers, and were the subject of many of our 'News' lessons. It was a real 'David and Goliath' fight, of good versus evil, of justice versus oppression. It was happening as we spoke, and we seemed to be very much caught up with it. From Form One, I progressed to Form Two. The unusual thing about classes at the NNS was that, unlike the schools I had attended at home where pupils automatically went up to the next class at the beginning of the school year, i.e., in September, at the NNS, we were moved up at times which were not always the beginning of the new school year. Mr. Littlejohn taught Form Two. Known as 'Fishy' because of his proficiency in the swimming pool, he also taught music and singing, a seemingly unlikely subject in such a school. Mr.Littlejohn expected boys to do what they were told, when they were told. He was not a particularly severe man, and in the main, he was very well thought of. One of his idiosyncrasies was, at the start of the afternoon sessions, instead of each boy responding to his name being called from the 'register' with a smart 'Present Sir', we were made to anticipate our name being called out by standing up and reciting a line of poetry from a pre determined poem. According to Mr.Littlejohn, this made us aware of our alphabetical place in the register, and also taught us a poem. For some time my response line was, '...From the nation's airy navies grappling in the central blue...', depending on whether or not anyone was absent from class. I have since discovered through a chance listening to a radio programme, that the poem in question is Tennyson's 'Locksley Hall'. Having re-acquainted myself with it in the local library, I find that it is a work of some forty odd couplets - quite a considerable poem! Mr.Littlejohn's lasting impression on me was the songs he taught us in his music lessons. Mainly, the songs he taught were sea shanties, and even today, Whenever I hear the 'Last Night of the Proms'; as the orchestra plays the very sad 'Tom Bowling', my thoughts go back to Mr.Littlejohn and his music lessons in Form Two. Even more enduring, have been the following lines, also taught to us by Mr.Littlejohn: Forty years on when
afar and asunder Originally, I would have thought it to have been a football team song, but we sang it so often, I almost regarded it as a school song. At the time, the words seemed irrelevant to anything I could possibly imagine as belonging to my future world. Fifty five years on, with time to think of the past, they appear to have more relevance, especially the first four lines. From Form Two, I went to Form Four, skipping Form Three altogether. Mr. Watkins taught in Form Four. For some reason, I do not think I was in there for very long as compared to my stay in other classes. Mr.Watkins was easy to get along with. Like all the other officers, expected boys to do as they were told, when they were told. He smoked like the proverbial chimney. On more than one occasion stood in front of the class, lit up a cigarette, and blew a mouthful of smoke through a clean white handkerchief, showing us how much nicotine was deposited on the cloth. In order, so he claimed, to demonstrate to us the evils of nicotine, and smoking in general. We thought he used the demonstrations as a pretext to 'light up' in class time. However, another demonstration which he made, and which stays with me to this day, was as follows. He set up a large revolving globe of the world at one side of the classroom, and a large, powerful light at the other side. By rotating and tilting the globe, he demonstrated to us in graphical form, how the rotation and tilt of the earth gave us night and day, summer, autumn, winter, and spring. A simple enough demonstration, but one which made the point clear and succinct to a class full of (one hopes) the inquiring minds of twelve to thirteen year old boys. My last move was to Form Five, which is the final school class. After Form Five came Seamanship Classes One and Two. I didn't know it then, but my school days and my days in the National Nautical School were to end in Form Five. When I entered Form Five, the class teacher was Mr.Davies. It was well understood among the boys that one did not test Mr.Davies' patience. Subjects which were new to me were algebra, logarithms, trigonometry, and the laws of specific gravity. Faced with these (to me) quite difficult subjects, my interest diminished, and my hitherto good place in class amongst the top three or four slipped to a position considerably below that. Interestingly, where trigonometry and logarithms etc., had no interest for me whatsoever in school, twenty or so years later when I needed them for calculations in setting up machining jobs in lathes and milling machines, I took to them successfully, and with considerably more enthusiasm - to my own amazement! Shortly after I entered Form Five, Mr.Davies was called up to serve in the Royal Navy. For a time, the Head Teacher, Mr. Britton taught us, then Mr.Powell, an older teacher, who had been enticed out of retirement taught us for a short time, then Mr. Griffiths, a younger teacher took over. Mr.Griffiths immediately let us know what he expected of us. In class, he made every boy stand up and introduce himself. When we had all done so, Mr.Griffiths then introduced himself to us with the almost sinister addition of 'Now I know you, and you know me'. It almost sounded like a challenge! With Mr.Griffiths in class, we sat up and took notice! I stayed in Form Five with Mr.Griffiths as teacher until I finished school at noon on Friday, the 13th. of March 1942 |