Nineteen...

Seventy one.  August.  Age 4 and a half.  Don't forget the half.  It's very important.  That's when I started school.  

This is my first school photo taken March 1972.  I am now a big 5 years old.  Can you spot me?  :-))

Nineteen little children setting out on their school career.
Nineteen little faces smiling happily at the camera whilst trying to figure out their place in this new and exciting and sometimes confusing place.
Nineteen little lives waiting to be lived.
Nineteen little faces who at this point have no comprehension of the drama, heartaches, joys and ecstasies awaiting them, as their lives unfold.

Mrs Hayes, the teacher on the right was our main teacher, with Mrs Caulder being a probationary teacher so was only there for part of the year as we shared her with the other P1 class.  I remember them both vividly and they were both wonderful.  But it is Mrs Hayes who I remember with particular fondness.   

Being a very shy, only child and going to school never having had a nursery experience (don't think any of us did, in fact I'm pretty certain there was no nursery in our little village school) I found this new environment full of noisy, boisterous children, most of whom were way more confident than me (of course only being 4 1/2 and one of the youngest in the class didn't help) totally and utterly bewildering.  I really do think I spent my first six months at school in complete confusion, eyes wide, mouth open, trying to find my way in this new order.  Maybe we all did.

I remember the first day in the school library with all the other mums and new starts, sitting on my mum's knee and my name being one of the first to be called out.  The excitement of putting my school uniform on quickly forgotten as I very hesitantly dripped off my mum's knee, wishing her gentle hand urging me forward was gripping the bottom of my cardigan and holding me back instead.

I remember taking a step away from her and actually feeling the physical warmth of her recede and a little sob sitting at the back of my throat that I swallowed down.  I was so determined not to cry.

Another step and I faltered.  Looking at my feet, I heard my name being called again.  Just my first name this time and in such a gentle tone.  I looked up and there was Mrs Hayes, smiling at me with such kind eyes and holding her hand out, saying nothing, but the message in her smile was clear - Hello, you're fine, everything will be okay and I will look after you till your mum comes back to pick you up.


And she did.  And I adored her.  She had a tinkly laugh and lovely creases at her eyes when she smiled.   I never once heard her raise her voice to any of us.  She was always quietly encouraging and enthusiastic in her praise and had the best dressing up box I'd ever seen!   

I always wanted to please her and make her proud and worked so hard to gain one of those coveted gold stars that she kept in an old throat lozenge tin in her desk drawer.  

Then without warning, she was off ill for two weeks and a supply teacher came to cover.  She was much younger than Mrs Hayes and had straight blonde hair and was very beautiful.  Not at all "mumsy".  

I remember the Head Teacher introducing her to us and not being able to take my eyes off her as she was taking the register on her first day .  She was the most exotic thing I'd ever seen in the flesh.  

Then it all went downhill.

Her smile didn't stay.  She was loud and jangly and permanently cross.  Nothing ever seemed to please her and she took great joy in terrifying the little people in this photo with her shouting and pointy finger.

At the start of each day she called us out one at a time to her desk to go over our reading words.  If you faltered over any of them she would yell "Wrong!   Say it again!" and woe betide you if you got more than two wrong as your Janet and John book would be thrown with great force under the desk and you would be sent crawling on your hands and knees to retrieve it.   She didn't have a tin of gold stars. 

I appreciate I am remembering this through the eyes of a tiny child, so I am sure it wasn't quite as bad, but that is neither here nor there, the fact is, that is how she seemed and that is how I experienced her teaching.  Anything I learned during those two weeks was through fear and any enjoyment I had in learning quickly disappeared.  I can't imagine how my school career would have turned out if I'd had her as my P1 teacher for the full year and  I actually cried with joy and utter relief, when Mrs Hayes returned.

I learned many new things during that first year of Primary school but in amongst the three R's, the most valuable lesson was how quiet encouragement, patience, understanding and kindness are far bigger motivators to learn than intimidation and having things "drummed into you".  Sometimes the lesson from the quietest voice is heard the loudest.

Thank you Mrs Hayes.