 |  | | | Moving to a New School | There are 2 messages in this section. |
Miller H Caldwell. Posted 20 Jun 2002.
I left Primary two at Kirriemuir Primary School in May 1958. Well that is not really exact. The school was built on Reform Street. Therefore I came from Reform St Primary School and that took some explanation to my new class, who knew what a Reform school was in Glasgow.
Pity that was the not the only difficulty I had when my late father brought us down to Glasgow for our education. Not only was he the minister at Shawlands Old Parish Church but also the schools chaplain. Clearly Miss Dick had not received my school folder from Angus.
She drew a backward Z on the blackboard and on the left of this unusual piece of art, she wrote the number 27. Under the shelf of the long tail of the Z was a much longer number which I can not recall but it was around 34587. " In silence please, work out the answer."Well, there was no long division in Kirriemuir. I was at a loss how to start. I began by copying this strange design and numbers, slowly. As she approached the row I was sitting in. I panicked. I worked out she would be at my desk in a matter of seconds. As she approached I ran my pencil all over the arithmetic. "What have we here? A dirty mess. Well we do not do this in Shawlands Primary. Stand up. Now come to my desk". I had no idea what was happening but thinking if I could get through this day, I would ask my older sister how to do this bizarre maths. As I thought through this resolution, Miss Dick produced a double tongued leather belt and asked me to cross my hand in front of her. Six thrashings. Must not cry. I am the new boy. My fingers tingled with pain. The morning bell rang. "Stay here all break, till I return."
At lunchtime I was approached by a friendly pupil. "Miller, are you a Jew?" Well this was proving to be a tricky day and a difficult answer needed a thoughtful reply. I wanted Leslie to be my friend so I thought if Christ was the King of the Jews and I was a Christian, then I must also be a Jew. "Yes, I am" I said.
"Oh, well dont forget to bring your yomulka on Friday". My what?
"Ah, your parents must be reformed Jews." Leslie reassured me.
At the end of the term my father asked how I was enjoying school. I was not particularly happy as my class of 12 in Kirrie was much better than the class of 52 pupils at Shawlands, but I did say I enjoyed Hebrew. "Hebrew"? my father enquired.
"Barook ata adanoi elu henu
..Shaman Israel, Adanoi elu haenu." I responded.
"Miller why are you learning Hebrew. ?"
"Well Dad I am a Jew."
"Miller you are not!"
The last day of the term meant the school went to the Church for a closing term service. As we were marched out, I noticed Miss Dick speaking ever so pleasantly to my father who had taken the service.
Three weeks later we were on holiday in Carradale. A wonderful holiday until I was informed we were to visit Southend one particular afternoon. We had been invited for afternoon tea, by Miss Dick! I refused to go. For the first time I made it clear I would defy my parents and run away. I was not going to Miss Dick. I didnt. I ran away after telling my sister I would be on the golf course till they returned.
I returned at 5.p.m. to find the family had returned from Southend and the atmosphere was bad. I was sent to my bed for being disobedient and our spaniel was in the bad books too. Apparently, Rikki who had never bitten anyone before, had been mesmerised by a plate of strawberry tarts on a low coffee table. As Miss Dick in conversation was moving her hands around this summer delight cake plate, disaster struck. This was too much teasing for Rikki. He grabbed her hand angrily, drawing blood the colour of strawberry tarts.
When I heard this, I praised the wee dog. I thanked him. I could face the new term. | | |
|  | David. Posted 7 Jul 2002.
I went to the South school Paisley in the early 60s. An old Victorian building with outside toilets. Every new term we all wore new uniforms (blazer, cap, shorts and of course the old school tie and badge. Lunchtime was crossing the road to the sweetie shop for a 2d MB bar and a penny whopper. After school, the mile walk home and made myself a jam sandwich around 4pm. More memories next time, bye for now, Dave.
|
|
|  |
|
|
