Chapter 15

1973 - 77

Teaching is not all a Bed of Roses

To return to teaching.  I had just started my third year (Sept.'73) at Palmers Cross when I was asked if I would be interested in Special Needs (then called ESN - Educationally Sub-Normal and SSN - Severely Sub-Normal).  It was to look after the wood and metal workshop.  It meant a special extra pay allowance and better promotion prospects.  Westcroft School was an ESN school with three main groups of children.  There were the mentally weak but generally quite keen such as the brighter Down's children; those who had missed a lot of schooling due to, for example, hospitalisation, often quite bright but well behind their age group and then there were the 'dead beats' who had no interest or ambition - one memorable young villain was not bothered because he would be working in the family business of running a string of girls in Wolverhampton.

After a year in the workshop I was asked to take a normal class to teach and apart from a few who needed a firm hand, the teaching was much the same as a normal school.  Classes were smaller and more stress was laid on reading, writing and numeracy with a lot of time spent on the social side.  There was even a Kitchen, dining room and bedroom to teach the basic household skills for the school leavers.

In general there were more practical activities than academic.  Tuesday and Thursday afternoons were free choice activities where pupils of mixed age groups could choose indoor and outdoor games, handicrafts, swimming, walks, etc.  my offerings were nature walks and puppetry.  These activity groups were for one term and I used a different puppet type each term which ended with us performing for one of the morning assemblies.  The performances were then repeated at a local Primary School; a very useful confidence building, social activity.

Normally, puppetry tended to be chosen by the younger children and girls but one winter term a group of older boys decided an indoor activity would be a nice easy option and took over, intimidating the usual young participants, who stayed away.  What to do with this somewhat unruly and unwilling group of layabouts.  It had to be macho, brash, very active, no words to learn and dead easy to manipulate!  I chose the mummer's play, "St. George and the Dragon".  I had hoped that one could manage to narrate the story but stage fright was beginning to take hold.  The erstwhile streetwise, fear-noughts were beginning to realise that they were actually going to perform in public.

Our puppets were to be large body figures as in the picture so that they could move around with plenty of sword play.  A lot of cardboard tubes were required so fabric shops, skips and teacher's resource centres were raided.  Apart from a slight rising panic at the thoughts of the forthcoming performance, they settled down and worked quite well.  The usual characters in "St George" are St. G., the Turkish Knight, his daughter, the dragon, the doctor and the Devil..  Other miscellaneous characters such as Father Christmas and Lord Nelson did not seem right for our group but added a clown to hold the "Cheer", "Boo" cards.  Getting them to remember words was hopeless and none of them had a good enough reading ability so yours truly did the narration and they did the actions.

On the morning of the assembly this gang of tough and fearless tearaways was as nervous as a group awaiting their first Royal Command Performance.

"Do I look alright?"

"I might forget what to do."

"They might laugh at us."

"I want to go to the bog."

After the show, they swaggered like matelots on a rolling ship.

"What about that then, Eh, Sir?"

"We showed 'em!"

Didja see the way I used me sword?"

"We did it!, dint we?"

They were relatively well behaved for some days after and were less nervous at the Primary School and politely vocal to the staff and children there.  I was beginning to realise what a powerful tool performance was, especially with puppets.

One of the annual events was the week at the Towers, the field study centre between Bettws and Capel Curig, that we also used for the Teachers College trips.  This involved all the usual adventure activities.  The pictures tell the story.

I found that Special Needs work was quite stressful.  There was a lot of preparation to be done and staff were expected to attend the two youth club evenings a week which involved even more preparation.  After three years at Westcroft a job came up at Kingswood, a residential Special Needs school much closer to home.  It seemed a good move at the time.  A five minute drive or a fifteen minute cycle ride if I had little to carry, was better than the half hour car run to Westcroft.  Instead of two evenings of youth club, it was one or two evenings a week, "assisting the house mothers" and one weekend a month supervising and sleeping in.  There was also an extra pay allowance.

The job was basic classroom work but specialising in art and craft.  The day work and preparation I could cope with without problems.  The "assisting of the house mothers" actually meant organising activities such as going roller skating at RAF Cosford's rink, a couple of miles down the road, orienteering on the local Kingswood Common, pond dipping, etc. in the evenings and weekends.  I should have realised sooner, as the teacher I replaced had hung himself in the week-end sleeping room that I had to use.  Many a night I could not sleep for listening for the creaking of the rope on the beam above my head.  The children were also more difficult to handle; with many behavioural problems, some requiring special medication, many were in wheel chairs and there were some severe burns cases. 

I managed nearly a year before the breakdown.  One lunch-time in June I just left the school and drove into Wales and ended high up in the hills of Snowdonia.  I cannot say I did not know what I was doing.  I felt clear headed and it seemed the right thing to do. I remember being fascinated by the tremendous thunderstorm high in the Welsh mountains that night.  Having slept in the car, I phoned Kath the following morning and told her I was on my way home.  Kath, of course, was panicking.  She had already made excuses to the school who wondered where I was.  She had phoned around family and friends to no avail, so was quite relieved to hear from me. 

I really do not know how I got back; I have no recollection of the return trip - the car must have known the way.  Kath had previously phoned the doctor and shortly after I arrived so did the doctor.  I suppose shock had kicked in by this time, I had the shakes and was in a sorry state.  I was off sick for six weeks which included part of the school summer holiday.  That was in 1977 and I have been on Amitriptylene ever since.  Although I was offered the chance to continue at Kingswood with reduced responsibilities I simply could not face going back and started looking around for something else.  With my experience, the Local Education Authority still tried to place me in the Special Needs area but I really wanted out and to try something new.

There was the Gypsy Teaching Service which sent teachers out to the temporary camps and there was a post for a teacher of adults at Featherstone prison a few miles away.  I had interviews for both these jobs but, unfortunately, the positions went to people already in these specialised fields.  Then Kath saw the advert. in the local paper but that can wait whilst we talk cars.

Learnt: Puppets are a powerful teaching tool and I am not as tough as I thought I was!

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