THE STATIONMASTER'S DAUGHTER

Chapter 11 - 1957

When my friends and I reached nine years old, we escaped Miss Jasper's clutches and entered Mr Shepherd's class. I hoped that now I could begin to enjoy school a bit more.
 
He was a good teacher as I recall and made lessons interesting, but he had an unpleasant side to him too, which soon reared its ugly head. Two of the farmer's daughters were already in Mr Shepherd's class and one of them, Phyllis, who I liked very much, chose to sit by me at the front of the class. Unfortunately, the whole family were dirty, a bit smelly and had fleas or lice I can't remember which, it didn't bother me though, they couldn't help it. but one day, sitting at our desk, we saw something jump off Phyllis and land on the desk in front of us and we were so busy watching whatever it was that we attracted Mr Shepherd's attention. He must have realised what was going on and said I could change seats if I wanted to. I replied that I didn't. He said was I sure I didn't want to move and again I said I liked sitting by Phyllis. Now, I suppose he was trying to help me avoid being infested, but he also embarrassed Phyllis, by drawing attention to her problem, which of course the rest of the class were aware of and caused much laughter and name calling, making her cry.
 
The second instance again involved poor Phyllis. She was accused of stealing something. Now I don't know whether she did or not, but that's beside the point. She wouldn't admit her guilt, was hauled out in front of the whole class, told to hold her hand out, palm upward. Mr Shepherd then picked up a ruler and hit her several times across her palm with it. She cried out in pain. I think the whole class was shocked. That memory is still as vivid to me today as it was then. I hated that man for doing that, hitting her and humiliating her in front of everyone and I have never agreed with corporal punishment from that day on.
 
In my second year, the headmaster decided that a group of us would represent the school at a country dancing competition, so we would gather in the playground at break time, with a wind-up gramophone blaring out music and taught to dance, and then the best dancers chosen to represent the school. I was one of the lucky ones. I picked up the dances quickly and enjoyed them. Some fun in my school life at last. Eventually, the dance group were picked up by bus and driven to a huge field somewhere in Cornwall, I have no recollection of where. All I can remember is that there were large tents serving food and drinks, sectioned off areas on the grass for the different country dancing competitions and hundreds of kids all dressed up to the nines. We didn't win any prizes, but it was a lovely day. We competed again the following year, but never won that year either. After that, we never went again, but we would still have country dancing sessions in the playground.
 
There was no room for any gym equipment in the school, but one day Mr Shepherd had a large rope fitted to one of the beams at the front of the class, so we could all learn to climb. Climbing turned out to be another of my accomplishments; I could shin up that rope like a monkey, and then the piece-de-resistance! I could twist my legs up and hang upside down from the top, then lower myself headfirst down to the floor. The first time I performed my trick, I actually felt happy at school. Mr Shepherd had me demonstrating my talents for the poor kids who couldn't climb. One bad experience, for me especially, happened one day on our way home. One of the older boys lived at the stud farm and had his own horse; it was a huge black one, which we had seen him riding a few times, he loved to show off to us younger kids as we walked home. This particular day, he decided to chase us up the road, and then singled me out for some reason. I was terrified, this huge black beast bearing down on me. All I could think of doing was jumping over the hedge into a field. I managed it, but in doing so, ripped the back of a new mackintosh mum had recently bought me. I don't know which was worse, the fear of the horse trampling me or fear of telling mum about my mac.
 
The boy on the horse laughed and then turned round and rode away and the other kids climbed over the fence, managing to avoid the barbed wire, which had done so much damage to my mac and joined me in the field. I was crying by then and asked them to come home with me to explain to Mum that it wasn't my fault. Even though the boy on the horse was nowhere to be seen, we stuck to the fields until we reached Nigel's house. He called in to let his mum know that he was home and was just going up to my house to play for half an hour. We all trooped into my house with everyone talking at once, trying to explain what had happened and that it wasn't my fault. What did my mum do? Yelled at me for spoiling my mac, she would have to mend it, I wasn't getting another one. The other kids sidled out of the house and disappeared back to their own homes. Not a thing was done about that boy chasing me on his horse. My parents should have gone and at least talked to his parents, but no. I had to wear that mac with its patched up tear at the back until I grew out of it a year or so later.
 
The final hurdle of my time at this school was sitting the dreaded eleven plus, which when it finally arrived, was easier than I expected and I passed with flying colours. My friend Nigel and I had the highest marks of all the group who took it and Mr Shepherd decided that we shouldn't go to the ordinary grammar school in Camelford like all the other kids who had passed, but should try to get in to the boys' grammar and the girls' grammar in Launceston. Both schools had a much better reputation. Mr Shepherd impressed on our parents how intelligent Nigel and I were and deserved this better education. Both sets of parents, suddenly very proud of their offspring, made the arrangements. Nigel and I had one last term cycling to school with our mates, (by this time we all had bikes) and then came the summer holidays. We would never set foot in Otterham School again. During the holidays, Mum and I made a trip to Launceston to buy my new school uniform, consisting of bottle green blazer and pleated skirt, with a green and white striped blouse and a long sleeved bottle green sweater. We didn't have to wear a tie, but we had bottle green knee high socks, the dreaded big green knickers! and lace-up black shoes. All topped off with a beret. I felt very smart when I tried the outfit on again to show my dad when we got home. We also had to have a short bottle green skirt for hockey, a gym bag, a pair of pumps, a pair of hockey boots and a satchel. Mum complained about the cost. I believe parents still complain about the cost of uniforms. The letter that arrived from the grammar school listing all the uniform requirements also had this little paragraph at the bottom!
 
'When in a kneeling position your skirt must touch the floor. This is the required length, no longer, and definitely no shorter. The length will be checked on the first morning of term.'
 
This meant that the skirt reached just below the knee. It was definitely checked for length on that first morning by the battleaxe of a gym mistress. But more in the next chapter. I still had a few weeks' holiday to enjoy first.