Teachers

Inspired by Judy Page Heitzman, The School Room On The Second Floor Of The Knitting Mill

In my memory it is all snippets, snapshots, flashes of images and experiences. I have a few narratives I’ve trotted out over the years and embellished with humour and hindsight, but what is really real?

I feel a kind of gut-punch guilt when I think about chanting “boys are chocolate faces, girls are always aces”. I thought it just meant boys were messy eaters, now I realise it was some parent’s racism perforating our playground games. But the sexism feels ok.

There must have been teachers that bullied and undermined, but I can only remember the kind supportive ones. My selective memory banishes the bastards or relegates them to minor characters. Well done memory! I control the narrative now.

Mrs Exworth comforting me when I was sent out of assembly for plaiting the girls hair in front of me. We all did it. The assemblies were so boring, although we could listen and plait at the same time.

I remember Mr Bolton, the French teacher, in his shiny nylon suit, whose voice gave me AMSR so I called him over to ask questions a lot. I wonder now if it was partly the static electricity generated by his suit.

Julia Clough