Ending...

1978

So, after yesterday's P1 archive blip, as promised, here is the P7 archive blip.   Can you spot me in this one?  I think it's probably a bit easier than the p1 photo :-))

When I started school there were two P1 classes, I'm assuming because of restrictions on classroom numbers, but by P7 all twenty-seven of us were lumped together.

Just as I was very lucky in having the P1 teacher I had, I was also lucky with the P7 teacher I had (actually, if I'm honest all my primary teachers were fantastic).  

Mrs Grieve taught our class in P6 as well as P7 and at first she came across as a bit tough.  But it soon became apparent that her "toughness" was her refusal to accept anything but the best we could give her.  

I remember being furious every Thursday morning as all the girls in the class went to spend the morning learning how to knit and sew with Big Aggie (I have no idea what her real name was and I am sure she must have told us but this is the only name I can remember ever knowing her by) whilst the boys got to stay in class with Mrs Grieve and do fun arts and crafts projects.   How sexist is that?!   That's the 70s for you :-))

Now I've been wracking my brain wondering how best to describe Big Aggie but a visual clue is probably my best bet.  If you imagine a perfect amalgam of Cissie and Ada but with a Scottish accent, then you'd be right on the money.   She even wore the knee length bloomers!  She had absolutely no sense of humour though and was the most impatient, crabbit, child-hating woman I think I've ever met.   

Despite her sour demeanour, foul temper and penchant for whipping our knitting off the needles and ripping it back to the first row if we dropped a stitch, none of us were intimidated by her as we saw her as a comedy character.  To watch her losing her temper was a thing of wonder and definitely mirth inducing, so we got our fun by doing our best to antagonise her and watching her blow.   Looking back now, I feel quite sorry for her as I can't imagine she was having much fun trying to teach uninterested, surly little madams how to be little homemakers.  I hope she had a long and happy retirement.

Anyway, I digress.  P7 was a great year, despite Thursday mornings.  It was only year year of my entire school career where I inched my way forward to be declared the tallest in the class.  Given my life long reputation of being a short arse, I can only conclude that my growing phase came to an end not long after this photo was taken.  

Other memories from that school year include being asked to read at all the school services - Harvest Festival, Christmas and Easter (being a voracious reader I was able to tackle the tricky words the bible threw at me).  The utter joy of sitting next to my first ever proper boy-crush for the whole school year was tempered by the heartbreaking realisation that whilst he liked me, his stage of development meant football was the love of his life (actually I think that still might be the case.  He never married ;-) and being champion three-legged runner with my best friend Heather at school sports day.  As far as I know our record remains unbeaten :D

I remember we all cried on our last day, even the toughest of the boys.  It was quite a thought to be leaving a small village school for the last time knowing that our school career would continue in a large comprehensive in the neighbouring town, that would require a trip on a school bus.  

Mrs Grieve gave each of us a piece of very fancy paper and we had to autograph each other's and leave a personal message.  I framed mine and had it on my bedroom wall for a long time.  I'm usually a hoarder of such sentimental things but I've no idea what happened to it.

It's taken me so long to write this blip as I keep looking at the photo, working my way along each young face and recalling memories of each of my classmates.  A bittersweet experience.

1978.  Seems like yesterday.