St. John's was a small quaint school, of approx. 180 pupils with three classrooms on the ground floor, plus the typing room, the music room and the Headmaster's study. A stone staircase with wrought-iron balustrading led from the large entrance hall to the upper floor which had a small hall and three classrooms. On turning right, there was a verandah with a low iron railing overlooking the girls' playground. When it rained we got soaked as we walked along it! On the left of the verandah were two classrooms. These classrooms each had a low small window which looked into the class from the verandah. The remaining classroom was on the left of the landing, together with the Teachers' Common Room.

I loved this school despite the Headmaster being a dreadful bully. His name was Mr. Barrass and his nickname of "Basher Barrass" had followed him throughout his career. He had taught my Dad who said that Basher had been a bully even then. It wasn't long before I made two very good friends, Kathleen and Nancy. They both lived near me and we went out with each other most Saturdays when our chores were done.

I remember one cold day when my friend Kathleen came into school wearing a head-scarf, Basher was watching from the top of the stairs and he snatched the scarf off her head and threw it over the banister making her go back down to pick it up. All the while she was walking down the stairs he was shouting at her saying she was letting the school down, how she looked like a factory worker and how it made her look ridiculous.
Kathleen was a timid girl and was in tears by the time she came back upstairs. Basher gave her 100 lines to write which was amazing for him as he usually caned us. He used the cane on the slightest pretext and really thrashed the boys. I remember we had only been in St. John's a few days when one boy was thrashed. It was so severe that all the girls looked away so he then turned on us and shrieked 'You fools - watch!' And he made sure we did by looking at us after every stroke. The poor boy was not only hurt but humiliated even though he knew the whole class sympathised with him and hated Basher for his inhumanity.

We all felt sorry for 'C' class as they had him for three subjects. 'B' class had him for two, whilst we in the 'A' class only had him for Maths, and that was bad enough. He would drag girls out to the blackboard by pulling on the back of their jumpers until it was almost over their heads. We were always 'fools' to him, which made us wonder why he was in teaching as he certainly hated children!

I remember once when I was dragged out to work out a Maths question on the blackboard. I got the correct answer but was yelled at for not working it out his way and was sent back to my seat as a 'fool!' He was so vicious at times that we reckoned he had German blood in him - and you could say nothing worse in wartime. Fortunately there was a boy in the class, Alan, who was a wizard at Maths and as we both had aisle seats he would pass the answers to me when he saw I was having difficulty!

The teachers, however were great. Mr. George was everyone's favourite.
He had a great sense of humour and would often tease another teacher, Miss Craigie. He would sneak into the classroom and creep to her cupboard when she wasn't looking trying to steal a few sheets of typing or carbon paper. The class would then shout out 'Miss Craigie, Mr. George is stealing your paper' and she would then turn round and chase him out. It was like a pantomime with the children shouting 'He's behind you!!!' It all seems so immature in this 21 st century for 14 yr. olds to behave in this way, but in those days children were children, not young adults. That is until it came to training for the war!

I remember Mr. George teaching us shorthand. When we came to speed writing he would always read an interesting book and stop at a most interesting part saying 'We will continue with this tomorrow.' We would then all shout out 'No, we want to know what happens, read a bit more.' There was always a lot of laughter and joy in his classes.

Mr.Martin, another lovely teacher, taught us Book-keeping and either he or Mr. George taught us typing. They made the lessons fun and it was a joy to study them.

St. John's was a mixed school and one day I remember a well-liked boy coming into our class looking desperately sad. 'Don't ask Billy what's the matter' was whispered around 'His Dad's been drowned at sea - a U-boat got his ship.' So we smiled sympathetically at him, and he knew that everyone cared and was hurting with him. This happened more than once during my time there.

At 14yrs. we were told to report to the Labour Exchange where we were informed we had to join a uniformed organisation to prepare us for the Forces. One of our teachers was the Commandant for the G.T.C. - The Girls' Training Corps - so of course all the girls in the class signed on for the G.T.C.

Although I had more to do with this teacher than any other, strangely I cannot recall her name. Our G.T.C. uniform was very smart - navy skirt white blouse, navy tie and navy forage cap. I can't remember now if they required Clothing Coupons or if we were allowed extra for our uniform, but I do remember feeling very proud of our Corp and how smart we looked.

One of our handbooks was 'Aircraft Recognition' and we all tried hard to differentiate between the sounds of the various enemy aircraft. It was now quite technical as in a few years time some of us could be in the W.A.A.F's.

A child's book of plane spotting

We were taught First Aid, and I remember coming home and bandaging heads, jaws, shoulders, broken arms etc. My family evidently had a lot of patience with me! Every few weeks we had tests on all the subjects we had been learning and, as our Commandant was also our teacher, it did not pay us to slack in our studies!!

We were also taken out to learn how to use a telephone. No-one had a telephone at home so it was a novelty to us. We felt very proud when we went home and told our parents 'I can use a telephone.' Those who had bikes had to learn where various Air Raid Posts were situated and, during a raid, were called upon to carry messages between the Posts. This was a very dangerous job but in some places boys as young as 12 yrs. were used in this way.

We were also taught how to march smartly, to salute to and recognise an Officer. We had to learn how to polish our shoes which would pass an Officer's inspection and so much more. I couldn't wait to join the Wrens and be a Writer like my cousin Lily whom I admired greatly.

Another thing we were taught was how to put out Fire-bombs. One string of fire-bombs fell in a cemetery and the Firewatchers rushed to put out the flames. They did a good job, but now there was no light and they spent the rest of the night crashing into one another and the gravestones as they couldn't find their way out!

Elizabeth Aynsley ©

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