Leaving school

 

In the fifth form at Acklam Hall Grammar School, I was faced with a dilemma.

GCE examinations were to take place, the result of which were crucial in deciding whether to continue to sixth form for two years and another set of exams. The A levels are precursors to applying for a university place. Therefore, results in both GCSE and A level exams were important.

By only creeping past 11 plus exams by interview after failure in the exam itself, coupled with my poor academic performance at grammar school, did not bode well for further study.

On the other hand, it would mean two more years of rugby! The results of my GCE examinations would be crucial here. I got five passes out of eight subjects. It seemed OK. However, my brother got 7 out of eight sitting a year earlier as a fourth former! On reflection, the thought of five more years of study at school and university if I were successful in A levels which are much more specialised and harder was not appealing and I decided to leave after fifth form at the age of 16.

But what to do?

As the eldest in the family and a boy, you might think there would be pressure to seek a well-paid career path. But there was no pressure. Neither was there any real interest in specific careers. However, our family came from a long line of Mariners, so going to see became an obvious choice. Father was at sea and Grandpa, who lived with us, was a retired captain. For some reason I decided to try for the Royal Naval Officer College in Dartmouth. I do not know why, but I did.

You need to keep in mind that the year was 1956 and I was a middle-class Yorkshire Grammar School boy.

I was instructed to attend HMS Eaglet in Liverpool docks. Not sure how I got there, but late morning. In 1956 I climbed the gangway into the hull of a retired Royal Naval Man of War. A Petty Officer took me down into a large room where I discovered there were four of us, a grammar schoolboy from Lancashire, myself, and two youths dressed in Penguin suits, well, that's what it looked like. Black uniform and hats. Later I learnt was either Eton or Harrow public schools. Remember in the UK a public school is really a private school for the rich. So, it looks like there was a competition between grammar school and public school.

The Petty Officer explained that we must first undergo an intelligence test and that would be followed by an interview.

There were a lot of questions, and you will not be able to complete them all in the allotted time, he told us. So, we started on this multiple-choice type question and answers and myself and the Lancashire lad finished them all in time. Not so the two other boys. Hope this means we are OK. Then I was led into a large room with a long table on one side. Behind the table was a dizzy array of gold braid belonging to at least 6 Royal Naval or Royal Naval Reserve officers. On the other side of the table, was a single chair for me. Somewhat intimidating. It started with a range of questions about my background, academic and sport achievements. And then the bombshell!

What did I think of Hornblower! Well, I had read the books and enjoyed them, but what to say?? A good captain, a bad captain, so I garbled out the sort of answer knowing that it was not enough.

Thank you and wait in the next room, said one of the officers. Sometime later I was called in to hear that I had not made the grade. The same was true for the other grammar schoolboy from Lancashire, but the two public school boys were through! Such was life in the 1950’s, but no regret.

Sometime later Dad was on leave and suggested I try for the Merchant Navy, and he thought Thos. & Jno. Brockbank’s based in Liverpool was a respected shipping company. So I applied, got an interview and Dad and I took the train to Liverpool to meet the Marne Superintendent Captain Cadwallader. I must have made a good impression and /or my fathers presence helped because I got an acceptance letter soon after and my career as a Merchant navy officer was to begin.

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Acklam Hall grammar school

Acklam Hall grammar school

Five years of my teenage life was spent at Acklam Grammar School. And the school intention was that these years would turn me into an intelligent and capable adult, ready to take on a further higher education in university.

 It did not turn out like that.

My intelligence, as measured by academic achievement and progression, did not improve. And I remained bottom of my class in all five years. However, there was a slight improvement in the 5th year. That year was renamed 5G rather than 5C, supposedly because it included the German language in our class schedule.

Capability was a different asset. I seemed to develop a skill that always got me into trouble. A few examples will demonstrate that hidden character in me that blossomed in those years.

The target for such behaviour was often a teacher or classmate. Hilton of the woodwork incident was often the victim. Once we locked him in the classroom cupboard and only a question by the teacher about noise at the back of the class got him released. A favourite trick was to balance the wastepaper basket over the partly open classroom door so that when someone entered it fell on their head.

Unfortunately, it fell on the head of the elderly English literature teacher and broke his glasses! He repaired them with blue insulation tip and I'm sure he did that to reminder us of our silly prank.

Another time we interrupted the steady rhythm of the school by disengaging the bell rope outside the main school entrance. Those perfect senior pupils had the responsibility of ringing the bell to signify the end of play time, the start and end of lunch, etc. Very important. Well, we removed the rope, So no bell ringing! Cool.

Our English literature teacher tried to open up history through literature. For me, mostly unsuccessfully. There are two memorable moments I do remember. One was doing a recitation of Shakespeare. It was Henry the Fifth and he said, “once more unto the breach, dear friends, some more: or close the wall up with our English dead”.

Of course, I cannot place the historical circumstances, but do remember the start of that speech. Perhaps it was because of that fervent patriotism us English are known for. What Winston Churchill would have caught described as stubborn foolhardiness.

The second incident was a play where each class put on a play around a theme given to us by the teacher. We got TS Eliot. I'm not sure which one it was, but we were instructed that it was a serious statement on society. I played a woman, as did my classmate Paul Speed. Unfortunately, he had very short hair, so to compromise we tied a large ribbon round his head to signal that he was a woman. Things quickly unravelled, both physically and metaphorically. First, I managed to catch Paul's ribbon and it unravelled across the stage floor in the middle of a scene. Paul immediately stormed off the stage and the play halted until our teacher told us to continue from the next page.

Of course, by this time, we were completely rattled, and many missed lines appeared, and prompts were needed. To cop it all, we heard that our classmate stage manager had taken off with our collective snacks and was believed to be under the stage, wolfing them down. These class plays were competitive, and we awaited the outcome with some trepidation. The judge, Clem Heath, in a very dry humoristic way, stated that the class had managed to take a serious play and turn it into a comedy, successfully! Therefore, we were awarded the winner for Year 4!

There was a lot of mischief during my time at school and of course there was always a price to pay. It could be “go to the headmaster boy” or Foxtrot.

Standing outside the headmaster's office signified you were waiting to be physically punished with a cane across your buttocks. Seems quaint 60 years later, but that was the punishment. The headmaster let us choose what instrument he would use, The thin bamboo cane, a leather strap, or a canoe paddle. I chose the paddle on the presumption that such a broad area instrument would spread the load of the impact. Such was it, for over the years I had the honour of being introduced to all the instruments of punishment.

Then there was Foxtrot. The deputy headmaster, named Fox had designed a punishment that was also physical exercise. It involved walking around the covered quadrangle after school. It was overseen by the deputy headmaster as well. The number of rounds was determined by the severity of the offence.

I can say with some pride I covered many, many miles doing the foxtrot.

It was not all bad at school. I was clearly dumb at most academic pursuits, but I excelled at practical classes such as woodwork, gym, and sports.

When I reflect why that was, I think there were two main reasons. A natural talent in mastering physical tasks, where there was always a goal and a sense of achievement., a completed flowerpot stand, ability to climb a rope in the gym or winning in a sport event.

I excelled in sport; in winter it was rugby and in summer it was athletics. Surprisingly I did well in the high jump. I say surprisingly because I'm not built for that sport being short and stocky. However, there was a new method of jumping. Previously we used the straddle technique where your stomach was nearest to the bar, and you straddled your legs over. The Fosbury flop was totally different. You approached the bar at speed and jumped, turning your back to the bar, and flopped over. I never mastered that technique. So, my tenure as school high jumper was short.

Junior school; me top right

Rugby was quite a different story. I started as a prop forward, in the front row of the scrum, supporting the hooker, whose job was to hook the ball backwards so the scrum half could retrieve it and deliver it to the running backs. However, I was not strong enough for that brutal position. So transferred to a wing forward position. Now, the wing forward has two jobs, pushing the scrum and attack the opposing scrum half if the opposite side got the ball, or protect his own scrum half if we got the ball. Here also I was not heavy or tall enough, so I migrated to a scrum half position where I excelled.

Senior school;me top right

The scrum half had to retrieve the ball from the scrum and then distribute it to the wingers through the flyhalf who started the attack. I was so quick that I could follow the wingers and join in the line as an extra runner. This was a great advantage over our competitors. So, from junior level to finally represented the school in my fifth year was a real achievement normally only accorded to the 6th formers. I got noticed by the county and made it to the Schoolboy County trials. Alas, that was the end of my rise to fame in the Rugby World. 

Anyway, there were other considerations to consider. Leave school and find a job. Or go on to sixth form and extend schooling into university.

Again, examination results would determine the outcome.

The dreaded A levels.