Open Writing

Shortly after arriving at Finchale Terrace, it was time for me to start another school - my fourth and I was not yet eight years of age. The nearest school was Fence Houses Junior Mixed - now Woodlea Primary. Fortunately, this was only about 400 yards away on the same site as a secondary school. Access was via a narrow pathway known as 'the Cut'. This went over a long unused and overgrown colliery railway known as the 'Cocken Line' which used to run to a pit by the same name near Finchale Abbey.

The junior school consisted of only four classes each with about 35 pupils. I soon found it to be a small intimate, family type school where everybody knew everybody else. John Charlton was my link in getting to know my classmates. They soon recognised me as a 'townie'. There was another 'townie' in our class by the name of Barry Gilhespy. His father was in the army and Barry, his mother and younger brother came to live with relatives at 23 Finchale Terrace, for the duration of the war. We became good friends.

All the teachers were female and I believe some were married. In pre-war days this was not allowed and whatever her age, as soon as a female teacher married, she had to give up her job. Society thought the best place for a married woman was at home looking after her husband and family. Due to the war and the shortage of teachers, emergency legislation was rushed through Parliament to allow married women to continue teaching.

The headteacher when I started was a Miss Woodward. I don't know what effect I had on her but she retired at the end of my first year at the school! One of the other teachers, Miss Blenkinsop replaced her. Miss Stokoe was my first teacher at this new school. She introduced me to the use of pen and ink.

At Barnes Road School, it had been slates and slate pencils, but here, a pen was loaned to each pupil and the desk inkwell was filled from a large ink bottle. We thought it was marvellous as we practised writing by continually dipping our newly-acquired pens into the overflowing ink wells. The down side was that the pens were collected in at the end of the each lesson, and we soon discovered the quality of writing depended on which pen you got at the next lesson - the biro had yet to be developed.

Our next teacher was known as Miss 'Slapface' Dinsdale -a female I will never forget. She was an older woman, very matronly with a long black dress down to the floor. She seemed left over from the Victorian age. Miss Dinsdale would hear pupils reading at her desk and for every mistake, the unfortunate pupil got a hard slap across the face. Most days, several of the class, particularly the girls, were reduced to tears. Nobody complained. Perhaps that was because we knew if we went home crying to our parents, we would get another slap from them for not working hard enough.

The classroom walls were full of large printed multiplication tables. We used to learn these by chanting. A pupil would then be brought to the front of the class and told to recite a particular table. Any errors were rewarded by another slap. It was easy to tell who were the dunces in Miss Dinsdale's class. Their left cheek was always red.

Miss Reece was our teacher during the final year in the juniors. She had endless patience and never used any sort of corporal punishment. Because we were preparing for the 11 plus examination, we were known as the scholarship class. Miss Reece took a small number of us to some function in Chester-le-Street and then back to her house for tea - something I believe was very rare in those days. She left immediately after the war and gave the class her new address in Salop.

A teacher called Miss Short joined the staff when Miss Woodward retired. She taught the first year group but also took P.E. throughout the school. Judging by her age, appearance and enthusiasm, she must have come straight from college. She introduced netball for senior girls - and boys - and amazed the rest of the teaching staff by going around in a white shirt and shorts!

We played the girls at netball but with our extra height and speed we always won. This however, was excellent preparation for the girls team because, when they played Lambton Juniors and Bank Head Juniors, they won easily, aided by much vocal support from the boys. Miss Short was way ahead of her time and was like a breath of fresh air during the late war years.

One of the big changes in the curriculum at my new school was the emphasis on rural education or environmental studies, as we now call it. We were taught to recognize and name, different trees and flowers, and to know the difference between wheat, barley and oats. Art was taught by selecting a tree and painting it every month to illustrate the changing seasons. Used fish paste jars were taken to school to hold water paints during art lessons. We also grew various plants in the classroom and even had a school rabbit, which had to find a temporary home every school holiday.

The junior school shared its playground with the senior girls' school and whilst the respective playtimes were staggered, periods before school and lunchtimes were not. This resulted in a very overcrowded area with minor fights about our football matches disturbing the girls' netball games. There was an air raid shelter in the school yard which was never used - even for a practice - during my time there.

We each got a free third-of-a-pint bottle of milk every day at Junior School, and many pupils also got free dinners. My mother was again too proud to apply and I remember paying 5d (2p) a day when I started staying for school dinners. Monday morning was highlighted by School Savings Bank. We were all encouraged to save to help the war effort. Most pupils brought varying amounts of money which were marked on an individual savings card. Next morning, the total amount saved by the school would be proudly announced at the morning assembly.

Our school holidays were a little different from urban South Shields. We had what was called Harvest Week in September. This was a time when school children were expected to help farmers harvest their annual produce of wheat, potatoes and vegetables. Many of my classmates worked 'on the land' to earn extra pocket money. I tried potato picking, found it back-breaking and only lasted one morning. Woodstone Farm still owes me half a day's pay for that dreadful morning in September 1943.1 enjoyed black-berrying much more and remember many a pleasant afternoon or evening, collecting pounds of fruit which my mother magically turned into pies and puddings.

Empire Day in May was another holiday that we seemed to give more emphasis to at Fence Houses. It was a day used to commemorate the growth of the then British Empire. We took national flags to school the day before the holiday and there were local parades to celebrate all the red parts on the atlas of the world.

After a while at Fence Houses, Bob Charlton, my mother, John and I would occasionally go to the cinema together on a Saturday night. On one such visit to Chester-le-Street, we saw a family film entitled, "Here come the Huggets." The film introduced a nine-year-old young girl who was to become an international star during the next sixty years. Her name was Petula Clarke.

My favourite school holiday was Race Week. This by tradition was always the third week in June when miners took their one week's holiday. It was named after the horse race meeting at Newcastle, and the main race of the week - The Northumberland Plate - became known as the "Pitman's Derby". Most miners couldn't afford a week away but effective substitutes were found with days at the races, bus trips to the coast and the Town Moor Festivities. I remember the latter when I was amazed at the crowds and all the attractions and stalls. John and I tried some of the fairground rides but they did nothing for me.

A few weeks after Race Week in 1946 I recall attending an event I enjoyed much more. It was the first Durham Miners Gala to be held after the war. Bob, my mother, John and I watched in awe as thousands of miners marched behind their respective colliery bands and banners through the old city. After the long procession leading politicians addressed the assembled miners as women prepared picnic teas and children played by the river. Beer later flowed in vast quantities and it was the only time I saw Bob Charlton rather tipsy. We all had to stand on the train back to Fence Houses, and Gill Crescent was rather noisy as Bob and his friends returned after a great day out.