King Henry VIII Grammar School

I can confirm that JS took swimming in the fuzzers. Always thought it odd that he only ever stood on the side, fully clothed and half-acted/demonstrated movements, with copious verbal instructions. He never went in the water to demonstrate swimming practically. I often suspected that maybe he only knew the theory, but couldn't actually swim himself. The boys in the swimming group were divided into two classes: those who learned to swim quickly (or could already swim), and those who drowned. Perhaps KHVIII had too many boys! Ah yes, Ben Nicholson. He was one of the ancient masters. Not sure what he did (our paths never crossed, lesson-wise), but rumoured to teach English. A very quiet sort of chap. Also, allegedly, the school's careers master. According to Herbie, that was, who repeatedly told us to see Mr Nicholson for careers advice. So I did just that, on day when he was in the library. I don't think he liked being disturbed whilst he was on library duty, ambling up and down whilst engrossed in smoking his pipe and reading some correspondence. He vaguely pointed to one of the library bays and muttered "you'll find careers material in such and such bay round the corner". That was the extent of KHVIII careers advice in my case.

I was one of those who came to the school unable to swim, so my mother suggested I should take the swimming option. Neither of my parents were swimmers, even though my father had been a pool attendant at Gosford pool in about 1935. I remember JS standing on the side, fully clothed, waving one leg about, failing miserably to teach any of us 'drowners' to swim while the swimmers happily played at the other end. It was, like many things at KHVIII, a completely pointless exercise. I left school still unable to swim! In those days swimming 'lessons' were at Livingstone Road. We had to get ourselves there by bus and pay 4d for entrance. We would all stand outside and JS would arrive from the Lockhurst Lane direction. I suspect he parked his car somewhere nearby but never offered anyone a lift if he did, and he disappeared at the end before anyone got changed. Some of us went to the café afterwards for mugs of soup. Some time later Bugsy Leachman took swimming, when it moved to Fairfax Street and cost 6d. At least he got into the pool, but was just as ineffective as a swimming teacher, so I gave it up as a bad job. I had completely forgotten that Nicholson was supposed to be the careers master. I recall that was my only encounter with him, in a side room in the old sixth form centre. He called me in, not knowing who I was or what I was studying. He asked what I wanted to do, to which I replied that I didn't know. His reply was along the lines of "Well, I cant help you then, come back when you do." My entire careers advice at school lasted less than 60 seconds! I mentioned before that some people kept in touch with Nicholson after leaving school. My friend informs me that these were generally people who studied English Literature at university. They even went to his house, and were encouraged to call him Ted. He was totally engrossed in literature and poetry and probably should have been teaching at a university rather than a school.

I was 'taught' for a couple of years by Joe Soap in the infamous Room 105. He struck me as being a particularly bullying individual, who took delight in smacking me round the head when incorrectly answering a question. It was such an important fact that I hadn't taken on board..... 'How do you make the colour sky blue?' I answered 'blue and white' and thus received my cuff as the correct answer was 'white and blue.' Vital information towards my education. I also recall that in an early (1967) edition of 'The Coventrian' there was a list of all the current masters and their qualifications. Naturally they all had the letters BA or MA after their names, with the exception of two. Bert Stanger, woodwork, had 'City and Guilds ' and the aforementioned J Stevenson had 'Art.' I presume he had a teaching qualification but not a degree in line with the rest of the staff.

Spot on, Beesman, that's exactly how I remember it. Bert and Joe were the only two whose qualifications I can remember, because they stood out from the rest. I'd never heard of City and Guilds, and remember asking my father, who explained it to me. If I recall correctly, the "Art" was in parenthesis: J Stevenson (Art). I can't remember if Bert's C&G was treated the same.

Swimming lessons in the fuzzers: yes, Livingstone Road for the first two terms. Sometimes I would set off early and walk the whole distance, pocketing the bus fare I'd been given. It moved to Fairfax St in the summer term - the new baths there had only just opened - but we still had Joe. There were three pools, and on our first visit Joe told us to get in the little one (in between the larger two pools if I recall). We hadn't been in the water long (and I remember it wasn't very deep), when a bemused member of staff marched out, and the lady said "Mr Stevenson, what are your boys all doing in here? This is the babies' pool, for the toddlers! They should be in the junior pool!"

Yes, Bert's C&G was also in parentheses. Piggy's qualification was an 'ATD' which I assume stood for Art Teachers' Diploma. Interesting to note that in the same magazine Barclays were advertising for trainee Bank Managers. One of the benefits of being a Branch Manager being a pension of £3,000 pa at age 65. Someone who was 16 in 1967 would therefore be retiring this year, but I suspect on a pension a bit more than that.

I don't know if they would have included a factor for inflation, but a rough guide to the worth today of £3,000 in 1967 would be around £50,000

It's as if putting someone's qualifications in parentheses means that their qualifications don't count; dismissive of them.

Mr Nicholson was accorded the responsibility for trying to get me through English Literature 'O' Level. My gut feel is that he would have been one of the first to stand up and applaud the awarding of the Nobel Prize for Literature to Bob Dylan. He was another one of these 'hard to figure out' teachers for a sixteen year old. He wasn't demanding or rancourous, but he wasn't in any way illuminating with respect to his subject. Whatever ability he possessed was kept well hidden, from my point of view. He turned up, he said things, he left. We had 'Jane Eyre' as the examinable classic and it was probably the only set book that I read through to completion because I wanted to - not because I had to. It was a damned good read. I was enthused about it. Then I would go into the classroom with Mr Nicholson and have no wish to share my thoughts in that environment. There was just an old bloke sitting in front of us - not surly, but not welcoming - and I had no inclination to open up, to try and articulate my admiration for Bronte's Jane Eyre. There was simply no feeling, for me, that one had a freedom to explore ideas. What are you going to do? Initiate something? In front of a very mature teacher who, presumably, possesses more knowledge, but gives you no firm and reliable indication that this is the case. I would say that what I learnt about 'Jane Eyre' from the teacher was zero. What I learnt about 'Jane Eyre' from the novel was something that I still value.

I just want to add some more thoughts in respect of my previous post. What I envisaged, I believe, was a teacher who had a love of - in this instance - literature and who could assist the pupils, the best way he knew how, to share his passion. The onus was on him to try and show you, via his accumulated knowledge, what it was that you were missing. To try and convince you that your life would be diminished if you did not grasp what it was that the great literary works possessed and which made them exceptional. You should then be given the opportunity to critique his assessment. To present a reasoned case as to why his position was unpersuasive, to which he would then use his superior insight to rebut your position. Thus, you would be engaged in a thoughtful and challenging discussion, such that your understanding would be enhanced. Now, if the position of teachers, at that time, was that we were insufficiently mature to be able to have this type of dialogue, then they are talking at pupils, not to pupils,.and that is a difficult skill. Lectures are not often compelling. Added to which, some of them used the technique of throwing a question your way and, basically, showing you up, if you couldn't answer. So then you might try and concentrate out of fear of embarrassment, rather than out of a genuine desire to learn. I don't see that this is a constructive way to develop and improve pupils' understanding of subject matter. Education becomes a chore, not a vehicle for discovery. Probably for teachers as much as pupils.

Now, as you have probably realised - if you could be bothered to read to the end - there are a number of flawed assumptions here. Erroneous assumption one: Teachers are passionate about their subject. Perhaps they began their career quite enthused, but by the time they hit 40, it probably bored them silly. Virtually the same old thing, year in, year out. Yawn. "Jane Eyre? Don't care. Rochester blind? Don't really mind. Deranged lady in the attic? Overly dramatic.' Like me and the England football team. Once passionate about them, now utterly indifferent, perhaps borderline hostile. It's the same old thing. "Can England win this competition? Of course they can!' Fast forward ten days. "Defeat to Iceland. Where does this one rank in the never-ending catalogue of 'failure to turn up when it matters'?' "Hmm. Good question. There are so many to choose from, Martin.' Erroneous assumption two: The possibility of constructive dialogue and discourse in the face of a difference of opinion about a topic. The speed with which a civil discussion degenerates into a heated argument is frightening. I don't know if it has ever been measured, but it could comfortably out-pounce a domestic cat - and that is going some. One second, you are sitting there disputing the value of learning to name rock layers with a geography teacher. Then, you are in mid-blink and "Wham'. He has torn your head off in anger. Erroneous assumption three: Older people have a superior understanding. Logic would tell you that this should be true. All that life experience to call upon. They must have learnt something of worth to pass on to the younger generations. That might have been correct about 2,000 years ago. "I'm telling you, sonny. Go over that hill, turn left at the old oak tree and after about 20 yards will see more liverwort than you'll know what to do with. Mark my words.' Now things change so fast that what you learnt in April has become out of date by October. "I'm telling you, sonny. Swipe the screen, left to right, 10 times. Touch the icon on the top right hand corner twice and then the one on the bottom left. Enter your 300 digit password and it is there.' "No. You are wrong. That was on version 28.3. I'm using 29.7. This is the super-ultra, 126 infinigig, 8 gazillion quanta, 9000 hertz, touchless, cornea recognition, voice responsive, Sammacapwin.' Erroneous assumption four: Education as a vehicle for discovery. This is a big blunder. Because in order to be able to find something - firstly, you have to know what it is that you are truly looking for. And none of us do. Bummer.

Re: 'And none of us do', speak for yourself. The search is for yourself.

The "new" gymnasium, 1956

Just as I remember it. Occasionally, there'd be a shuttlecock wedged in one of those funny looking lights. Sometimes, badminton was played after hours.

Why is it that what I assume to be the teacher has cricket kit on?