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Ted Ryder
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« Reply #15 on: 11:02:47, 02-08-2008 » |
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At my boarding school-cum-orphanage in the mid-50s if a master called you by your first name it was time to head for the hills!
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I've got to get down to Sidcup.
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Antheil
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« Reply #16 on: 11:11:15, 02-08-2008 » |
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They always say "school days are the happiest days of your life" They lied. I went to a single sex school with sadistic Prefects from the 6th Form. We had "Form Consuls" who wore a silver badge and asserted authority in the classroom if the teacher was absent. They were democratically elected by the cohorts  I was briefly a Form Consul but I lost my badge! |
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Reality, sa molesworth 2, is so sordid it makes me shudder
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Sydney Grew
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« Reply #17 on: 11:14:42, 02-08-2008 » |
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O and though masters used my first name, my fellow pupils didn't. Neither our masters nor our fellow-pupils would ever dream of using Christian names ("first name" is so American is not it?). Nowadays whenever a person such as a customs official or bank employee presumes to use our Christian name we always write a letter of complaint to his or her superiors and we invariably receive a grovelling apology. It is best to keep up standards we find. Our masters used black-boards, and several of them collected small pieces of coloured chalk in a card-board box; these they would throw in a fast and accurate manner at inattentive pupils. It is a small satisfaction unavailable to users of white-boards we should think. We like best the atmosphere at Christ's Hospital which we have once or twice visited for poetry readings and where the lads lounge about in cassocks. . . |
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Don Basilio
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« Reply #18 on: 11:22:47, 02-08-2008 » |
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We like best the atmosphere at Christ's Hospital which we have once or twice visited for poetry readings and where the lads lounge about in cassocks. . .
And lasses. The yellow stockings were coloured with saffron in the past in order to deter rats, I understand. It is an error of sacramental theology to assume the first names are given in baptism, although those are the names by which the Christian is called in an ecclesiastical context (viz. I, Richard, by divine permission Lord Bishop of London, to our trusty and well-beloved Wayne Kevin Snotty, clerk in holy orders, greetings: whereas our parish of St Simon and St Jude, Railway Cuttings has been vacant by virtue.... I trust that use of the first name would not be regarded as unduly informal by Dr Grew.) |
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To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven.
A time to weep, and a time to laugh: a time to mourn, and a time to dance
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Andy D
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« Reply #19 on: 11:39:55, 02-08-2008 » |
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Those two gents have something else in common which often goes with the use of the full name. Only straights call Michael Tolliver "Mike" in Armistead Maupin's Tales of the City.
Didn't know that about use of full first names DB. My mother has always called me Andrew Fortunately no-one's ever called me Drew (Google has revealed the even worse Americanism "Drewby"), though my nephew usually calls me And. |
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time_is_now
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« Reply #20 on: 11:43:00, 02-08-2008 » |
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Blackboards are among those aspects of my time at school in the 1960s and 1970s that my daughter appears half-convinced I am making up (along with being addressed by my surname, compulsory daily chapel, the CCF, sarcastic tweed-clad and gowned teachers throwing things at inattentive pupils).
You can tell her that I experienced several of those between 1991 and 1998: addressed by surname, no daily chapel but we did sing hymns in assembly, CCF existed but I wasn't a member, teachers didn't wear gowns except on special occasions but some of the older ones certainly enjoyed throwing things (including Mr Boocock who generally missed the miscreant and hit someone else instead with the board duster  ). It hasn't really scarred me - I just ignored it for the most part, I must have some sort of inner toughness - but I can see how some might react worse. Blackboards were superseded by white ones within my time there but I can still flinch (teeth on edge, like Anty says, not shuddering fingernails!  ) at the memory of that scraping sound. I've often thought that musicians and composers seem to stick with the more formal versions of their first names but I'm sure that there are some counter-examples. Surprisingly few, even in the era of "Tony" Blair! ... Steve Martland. Dave Smith. I can't think of many more. Olly Knussen and Tom Adès are so-called to all their friends but stick with a more formal version when they write it down. Mark-Anthony Turnage is called Roy really so I don't know what we're supposed to make of him. |
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The city is a process which always veers away from the form envisaged and desired, ... whose revenge upon its architects and planners undoes every dream of mastery. It is [also] one of the sites where Dasein is assigned the impossible task of putting right what can never be put right. - Rob Lapsley
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Antheil
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« Reply #21 on: 11:57:41, 02-08-2008 » |
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Junior School.
Headmistress Miss Katy Powell, all of 5' tall with a steely gaze and a soul with much in common with Mrs. Ogmore-Pritchard.
Mr. Vaux had a very direct aim when it came to board rubbers and chalk. He was also not adverse to creeping up behind you and rapping knuckles with a ruler if you were day dreaming.
The Seminary for Daughters of Distressed Gentlefolk. Very strict uniform code. We had to wear straw boaters in the summer with flowing pale blue ribbons (I looked rather delicious in this) and a jaunty upturned brim hat in winter with flowing chocolate brown ribbons (I looked even more delicious in this with my chocolate brown blazer with pale blue crest of acorns embroidered on the breast pocket, my cream shirt and brown and pale blue striped tie)
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Reality, sa molesworth 2, is so sordid it makes me shudder
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Morticia
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« Reply #22 on: 12:00:41, 02-08-2008 » |
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Ants, you forgot to mention the catapault tucked into your navy serge knickers |
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time_is_now
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« Reply #23 on: 12:01:55, 02-08-2008 » |
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We like best the atmosphere at Christ's Hospital which we have once or twice visited for poetry readings and where the lads lounge about in cassocks. . .
And lasses. The lads lounge about in cassocks and lasses? I think I shall have to pay a visit to Christ's Hospital ... |
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The city is a process which always veers away from the form envisaged and desired, ... whose revenge upon its architects and planners undoes every dream of mastery. It is [also] one of the sites where Dasein is assigned the impossible task of putting right what can never be put right. - Rob Lapsley
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Don Basilio
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« Reply #24 on: 12:11:09, 02-08-2008 » |
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No, no, no, tinners. Lads and lasses lounge around in Tudor school uniform. It is now co-educational. The school's web site would not include pictures of any of them modelling the uniform, as it might incite any perverts sexually aroused by pictures of children in full length coat, neck tabs and yellow stockings. http://www.christs-hospital.org.uk/index.htmlOne of the few independent fee paying schools in the South East not to have an advert in the proms programme. Their band traditionally plays in the Lord Mayor's Show. No chalk throwing at my secondary school. But lots of physical intimidation at my ghastly prep school. When I got to my big school I realised school life was about education and not avoiding bullying the whole time. The fact that at my big school the masters wore gowns gave me the clear message that this was a grown up institution. |
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To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven.
A time to weep, and a time to laugh: a time to mourn, and a time to dance
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Antheil
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« Reply #25 on: 12:18:54, 02-08-2008 » |
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Ants, you forgot to mention the catapault tucked into your navy serge knickers Mort, Yes! The catapault PLUS the pea-shooter!! No wonder we were provided with voluminous knickers! Where else would we keep our stash of offensive weapons? Not to mention of course the little pocket in the knickers for your hankie! |
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Reality, sa molesworth 2, is so sordid it makes me shudder
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John W
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« Reply #26 on: 12:36:28, 02-08-2008 » |
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Not to mention of course the little pocket in the knickers for your hankie! Oh. Is that what it was for? |
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time_is_now
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« Reply #27 on: 12:37:45, 02-08-2008 » |
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One of the few independent fee paying schools in the South East not to have an advert in the proms programme.
(Incidentally, it occurred to me while we were at La Transfiguration that when I finally get round to sorting out the drawer I stuff Proms programmes into, I could save myself a lot of space by just keeping the middle pages - since only about 1/4 of the programme has anything to do with the concert.) |
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The city is a process which always veers away from the form envisaged and desired, ... whose revenge upon its architects and planners undoes every dream of mastery. It is [also] one of the sites where Dasein is assigned the impossible task of putting right what can never be put right. - Rob Lapsley
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Ruth Elleson
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« Reply #28 on: 12:44:29, 02-08-2008 » |
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Tinners, you can fit your Proms programmes into a DRAWER? Gosh, and here am I needing a bigger flat  The technique to which you refer - removing the ad pages from one's Proms programmes - is a common practice known in the season ticket queue as "filleting". |
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Oft hat ein Seufzer, deiner Harf' entflossen,
Ein süßer, heiliger Akkord von dir
Den Himmel beßrer Zeiten mir erschlossen,
Du holde Kunst, ich danke dir dafür!
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Don Basilio
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« Reply #29 on: 13:17:05, 02-08-2008 » |
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Regrettably the Butterfield Chapel at my school was not big enough to seat the entire school, and once the new building was built in the late seventies we had assembly for the entire school in the hall there, which was basically nonconformist worship, and not liturgical Anglicanism at all.
My North London prep school, for all its ability at getting boys into good public schools, was a truly appalling place. It had a formal link with the Shrine of Our Lady at Walsingham ... so, by gum, did we have ritual. I remember one occasion when my grandmother - a black-souled Northern Nonconformist - visited the school chapel and passed a comment in that booming voice that elderly relatives reserve for sensitive occasions about the quantity and quality of the statuary. I wanted the floor to open. What I remember most was that it was an incredibly violent place - discipline maintained by teachers who kept order by the arbitrary use of corporal punishment, accompanied by a rampant culture of bullying that went completely unchecked. And of course there was a lot of muscular Christianity, including (and it seems incredible as I write this but it is absolutely true) boxing as part of the PE syllabus (such as it was) from the age of six. All this existing alongside an atmosphere of hot, sweet piety; and not a little anti-Semitism - again, it seems incredible to write this in this day and age, but I certainly recall hearing a priest teacher suggesting that the Holocaust might be retribution for the Crucifixion. When I got to my big school I realised school life was about education and not avoiding bullying the whole time. The fact that at my big school the masters wore gowns gave me the clear message that this was a grown up institution.
Very much my experience - discovering teachers who were enthusiasts for their subjects and did not regard intellectual curiosity as a form of Original Sin. Although one of my history teachers did tell me that the main reason why he wore a gown was to keep the chalk dust off his clothes. Our Lady of Walsingham represents pretty well everything my prep school didn't. I fear the exaggerated macho of your Hell in Harrow, pw, was a reaction against accusations of the homoeroticism associated with the shrine. Muscular Christianity is not the words I would use of it. I met my partner after a pilgrimage to Walsingham, so I have cause to be grateful. Thank you for reminding me of the dark side. The delightful old Latin master who arranged my first trip to Rome always wore a gown green with age, which I imagined was a result of absorbing generations of chalk dust. |
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To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven.
A time to weep, and a time to laugh: a time to mourn, and a time to dance
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