Before the National Curriculum

By Neville Hatfield

A teaching diploma doesn’t mark the end of learning. It is just the start.When a nervous Henry Dowden is selected for his first teaching placement, he innocently thinks that being a good teacher is all he needs to succeed in his career. But, combatting cynical teachers, an incompetent head and disinterested students proves challenging.In a bold but desperate move, Henry applies for a position in a more established grammar school and is rewarded by a learning environment more suited to his talents and enthusiasm. But being a new teacher means making mistakes, and some small explosions within the Chemistry lab make him a strangely unlikely hero...Neville Hatfield’s novel, Before the National Curriculum, is an insider’s tale of the English school system before the prescription of curriculum content and the banning of corporal punishment. It is a humorous but poignant story which makes the reader consider what really is important; both at school and in life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley
• Release date: Oct 31, 2017
• ISBN: 9781786299505

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Henry Dowden was feeling good, very good, as he walked along the tree-lined suburban road. He felt at ease with the world, unreasonably so, naively so, because today was the day he’d be launched into teaching when he took up a science post at South-Blacksea Grammar Technical School. Henry was excited at the prospect and particularly relished the freedom it would give him to develop the many ideas he had for inspiring young people and encouraging them to share his love of science. After all, teaching in England, was a profession which gave practitioners a degree of freedom and encouraged them to experiment with teaching methods, these being the days before the National Curriculum.

Henry was confident that he’d have a rewarding and successful career. He thought that it was his birthright. Life had posed relatively few problems for him so far, and he considered that those that had occurred, had been easily surmounted. In both his school and college days he effortlessly acquired positions of importance; Games captain and Head Prefect for two years at school, Secretary of the Junior Common room and Senior Man of the Education Department during his college days. Surely, this all represented a constant thread of success in life which would continue? A couple of academic setbacks were banished from his thoughts including the chaos he’d caused while working for a road building firm during the long vacation, when he’d sent a number of lorries to the wrong destination; an error which cost him a week’s wages and his reputation with the firm. Now, as he faced the prospect of his first job, he knew that things would work out well for him because they always did.

The glorious late summer morning was bright and sparkling, illuminated by the sun glowing from a cloudless, cobalt blue sky, adding to the feeling of near euphoria he was experiencing.

Henry had set out early to walk the mile or so to school from his lodgings, in which he was sharing a room with David Winter. David, a friend and colleague from the same Chemistry department as Henry, had been appointed to a post at South Blacksea Grammar Technical School for Girls and he’d found the accommodation which the pair now shared. Their room was located in, what had once been a large private house, before it was taken over by Mrs McStay and her husband, who converted it into a small Boarding House offering bed and breakfast accommodation. Mr McStay had died unexpectedly early and his wife found the business too much to manage on her own, so she divided the premises into five apartments, occupying one herself and letting the others on either a bed and breakfast, or half-board basis. David and Henry shared the largest apartment, its size providing enough space for them to be comfortable and each have a sizeable desk. Both had opted for half-board at a cost of £3.00 per week, which took a significant, but not too damaging, portion of their income. Three other people were in residence, two men, also on half-board basis, and a woman who didn’t take the evening meal.

Sleep had come late to Henry on the previous night. He’d awakened early, before the first sign of daybreak was marked on a wall of his bedroom by a circle of light, where the morning sun penetrated a gap in the curtains. His restlessness wasn’t due to apprehension at the prospect of starting work, but by a heightened sense of expectation and anticipation. At 6:30am he heard Mrs McStay moving about, so he rose and dressed. His appearance, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, clearly caught Mrs McStay by surprise.

I didn’t expect you to be up so early, Mr Dowden. I haven’t prepared breakfast yet, she said.

Oh! I’m in no hurry.

Didn’t you sleep well? I hope that you didn’t find the room uncomfortable, she said, concern registering in her voice.

No, I was very comfortable, thank you, said Henry, and I had a very good night’s rest.

He didn’t want to explain to her that his early appearance had nothing to do with physical comfort but was entirely due to the excitement he felt at the prospect of starting work.

I think I’ll just go for a walk and collect a newspaper.

Was that why you rose so early?

Yes, said Henry, untruthfully, thinking that the answer would avoid the need for further explanations. Shortly after Henry turned from his walk, David appeared, dull-eyed and clearly still very heavy with sleep. He’d slept well and his body was reluctant to emerge from its comfortable, comatose state.

Good morning Mr Winter, Mrs McStay greeted him, Mr Dowden has been at some time, looking very lively.

I’m not surprised. He was like that at college. I’d be convinced he is manic depressive, except I’ve never seen him depressed.

When he’d finished breakfast, Henry fidgeted, impatiently, for about 10 minutes then said, I think it’s time I left for school.

Good Lord man, said David, what’s the rush? You’ve loads of time yet.

I don’t want to be late on my first day.

You could leave in another twenty minutes and still not be late.

Henry, unmoved by David’s comments, collected his case and set out for work. As he bade farewell, David was buttering his toast in a typically leisurely fashion.

After a short walk, Henry arrived at the school, turned through the gates and strode purposefully down the drive. He felt himself trembling. It could have been emotion, but he convinced himself that it was not apprehension, preferring to put it down to the sharp breeze blowing off the North Sea, some quarter of a mile away. Although the summer of nineteen fifty-nine had been the warmest for years, the sea breeze, even in early September, was chilly. Henry approached the school along a path which bisected the school’s playing fields and which led towards the anonymous brick building, constructed to a pattern typical of schools built in the nineteen thirties. Its two, shoe-box shaped, blocks with their black slate roofs and iron-framed windows painted bottle green and flecked red-brown from the underlying rust, reminded Henry of his own school, providing a reassurance which comes from the familiar. The main entrance was framed by an imposing, if somewhat incongruous, pair of mock-Grecian columns supporting a triangular block of stone with the school’s name carved into it. Henry wondered at the confidence of builders who had included the year of its construction, nineteen thirty-two. He didn’t think that in years to come that it would be the object of admiring tourists keen to know when it had been built. The entrance opened into a spacious hallway that was dominated by a large and elaborate display cupboard, containing a modest array of trophies. The ceilings, much higher than in post-war buildings, made the surroundings seem spacious and airy and the building was spotlessly clean, its wooden block floors positively gleaming from a recent polishing being a real credit to its cleaners. Placed on window ledges, at regular intervals, were flowering plants, which, along with primrose coloured walls, gave the place a welcoming feel. Although it was no architectural masterpiece, Henry liked it.

Henry’s first task on arrival was to find Mr Strong, the Deputy Head, whom he’d met briefly after his appointment. He then expected to be given his time-table and to be introduced to members of the Science department. However, he’d arrived over half an hour before school started, well before Strong’s arrival. He entered the staffroom, which he thought, at first, was deserted. Then he noticed a thin column of smoke rising above the back of a deep armchair. He crossed the room to investigate and found a man, of indeterminate age, with dark hair, greying at the temples and a drooping moustache, streaked with brown tobacco stains. A cigarette was hanging from the corner of his mouth; the smoke was slowly trickling unaided into his mouth and up his nostrils. He was dressed in corduroy trousers and sports jacket patched at the elbows, slumped in the chair and showing very little sign of animation. Henry thought that he fitted the typical caricature of an Art teacher, but, people rarely matched one’s preconceptions. On second thoughts, the man’s dishevelled appearance made Henry wonder whether he was a member of staff at all, perhaps he was a visiting workman, or even the caretaker. When he saw Henry, the man suddenly stirred himself and said, One of the new boys are you?

Yes! said Henry, hesitantly.

I’m Eric Roughly, Head of Art.

Oh hello, said Henry thrown slightly off balance as the man’s words cut through his musing, I’m Henry Dowden and I’m joining the Science department.

So which citadel of learning do you hail from?

Durham University! I took a Chemistry degree there, and then followed it up with a Diploma in Education.

On hearing this, Eric threw off his lethargy and became animated. Good God man! he said. You mean to say that you’ve got a Chemistry degree. Why on earth d’you want to come into this job, you, with your qualification, could’ve had a proper job with proper pay instead of wasting yourself on teaching. There was a brief pause in his tirade whilst he removed the cigarette from his mouth, And, if you really had to come into teaching why come here, man? It’s an awful place this is. The staff’re whiners, the kids’re bastards (he said this with deep feeling), and as for the Head, Holy Joe, he’s an idiot. Eric stood up before making his next point, which was clearly even more important. That daft bugger tries to run this place on a mixture of prayer and flagellation. How he thinks prayer’ll help, I can’t imagine, there was another pause for breath, and as for his father, he’s a German pork butcher in Bishop Auckland. The last comment, which was uttered with real venom, completely baffled Henry who wondered which was the most reprehensible aspect of Holy Joe’s father: being German, a pork butcher, or hailing from Bishop Auckland. Henry was taken aback by the outburst and wasn’t sure how to respond. Being told on your first morning that you have joined an ‘awful place’ was disconcerting, but he also found it worrying that working here could make somebody as bitter as Eric. He revived his spirits with the thought that Art teachers are always a bit different from everybody else, and anyway Eric was probably suffering from ‘start of year blues’. However, it was also puzzling why somebody like him, so obviously disenchanted with the place, should have arrived at school so early.

I see that you were the first to arrive, Henry said.

Yes, and I usually bloody well am. The pay’s so rotten in this job that my missus has to go out to work, and the only place she could get a job was at Harington, which as you probably know is eight miles away. They start at eight o’clock at her place, so I have to run her to work every morning. What’s worse, man, by the time she’s finished, caught a bus and arrived home, its half past five and sometimes she still has shopping to do. What I hate most is that I don’t get my tea till after six and on some days it’s nearer half past. I like to eat early; it gives more time for socialising. Eating late seriously interferes with my evening, particularly on darts’ night, when it’s a hell of a rush.

You don’t collect her in an evening then?

Hell man! It’s bad enough traipsing out there in a morning; I can’t be expected to go there again in an evening as well. I’m not a bloody chauffeur.

Henry thought he might suggest that it would help them both if Eric assisted her with some of the household chores but quickly dismissed the idea. This was the nineteen-fifties, and in the Northeast of England such a suggestion wouldn’t have been received kindly.

Gradually staff began to drift into the room and a general air of reunion developed as people began to share their experiences of the long vacation. A number of snide comments were made about Holy Joe’s holiday in Italy, foreign holidays being beyond the pocket of most staff. What was worse he’d gone by air, confirming the widely held view that he was paid far too much. Ten minutes before the scheduled start of school, Paul Strong, the Deputy Head, arrived and immediately a sense of purpose began to emerge from the chaos. Strong gave some initial instructions and told everybody that lessons would start at ten o’clock. Then he collected Henry and took him to the Science department, introducing him to Jim McCall, the Head of Science. From their first meeting, Henry warmed to Jim, but then everybody did. Jim was a softly spoken Scotsman in his early fifties, extremely well qualified, probably with the ability to have progressed much further in the profession but for a lack drive and ambition. However, it was his easy-going qualities which kept Jim so contented in his job and made him such a pleasant colleague. Jim explained to Henry what the department’s expectations of him would be and outlined the support he could expect in return. He explained that the department’s policy was to deal with pupils in a firm, civilised way, remembering at all times to be dignified and also to treat pupils with dignity. You only gain respect from pupils if you show them respect, said Jim. This was the message Henry wanted to hear, one completely at odds with what he’d heard from Eric earlier.

When I arrived first thing this morning, I was told that the kids here are bastards, said Henry.

I could easily guess who you’ve been talking to. Don’t let the cynics put you off. Of course a few of the boys are difficult, that’s normal, but most of them are pleasant and co-operative. Some departments in the school have more problems than others and don’t help themselves by their confrontational style. In Science we set out to create a good atmosphere and as a result we usually get a positive response. When we don’t get co-operation, we try to support one another through any difficulties which arise, so if you need help remember to ask for it.

Henry was reassured by this talk with Jim.

CHAPTER 2

The first lesson in any teacher’s career is an exciting but nerve-wracking event. There are few jobs in which one is left quite so exposed to such a critical and potentially hostile audience at such an early stage. The experience is similar to that of actors, musicians or even professional sportsmen on their debut. Teaching a class is a performance which depends upon wit, adaptability and the necessary skills to impress. The teacher’s audience is not necessarily receptive or an entirely friendly one, young people seeming to have an almost instinctive and compulsive need to test the mettle of the person in front of them. It’s difficult to approach the occasion without some doubts, and the conversation with Eric should have raised some doubts in Henry’s mind. However, he was looking forward to the experience without reservation. He intended to appear mature, self-composed and dignified, certain that this would help him to impose his influence on the class from the very start. He recalled the parting words of his education tutor at their final meeting. Well, we’ve done what we can for you. You’ve shown enough commitment and ability in the classroom to succeed in the job. What’s needed now is a good start in your first post and you’ll soon establish yourself within the profession. The first week is always important, so make sure that you prepare thoroughly for it and then stamp your authority on classes from the outset. Henry had absorbed that message well, and it wasn’t any lack of preparation or effort that prevented him achieving his immediate objective.

Henry’s first lesson was with a Fourth Year group from the middle of the school’s ability range. He found his way to the room and then struggled through a milling throng to the front of it. There were thirty-two large youths crammed into a small laboratory and it seemed very crowded and claustrophobic. This lot seem to be much bigger than I remembered my own classmates being when I was fourteen, he thought, or was it just that there were fewer of us in the class? The boys also seemed a very self-confident lot, far too self-confident for Henry’s comfort. However, the lesson began well enough, the class being attentive and interested as Henry used his opening questions to explore their knowledge of the gases of the air. Eventually he moved on to pose questions about the ‘active’ part of air, which was to be followed by an experiment involving oxygen. The boys collected their apparatus for the experiment, returned to their benches and began to work. Henry moved around the room as he’d been trained to do, assisting, directing and questioning the pupils. He rose from the stool on which he’d been sitting, feeling very pleased with the response he’d extracted from a bright, interested lad, turned to move to the next bench only to go sprawling over a satchel which had been left on the floor. He spread out his hands to cushion his fall and, in doing so, caught two of the sets of experiments sending them crashing, scattering broken glass and chemicals in all directions. In the time-honoured way of schoolboys, the class erupted into raucous laughter. Henry scrambled to his feet, red faced and flustered. I’d better find out who was responsible for this and give him a rocket, he thought, assuming that this was the way to reassert his authority. Whose bag is this? he said sternly as he picked up the offending object.

A boy put his hand up and said It’s wors, sir. (‘Wors’ in the local vernacular meaning ‘mine’).

Henry was not yet fully attuned to the dialect and said, Will Wors please put his hand up.

There was a slight delay as puzzled looks crossed the faces of the boys, followed by peals of laughter when they realised what he’d said. Oh Lord, I’ve blown it, he thought, they’re laughing at me now. It wasn’t the effect he wanted to achieve and the lesson never properly settled down from that point. It was with a huge sense of relief that Henry heard the bell signifying the end of his trial. He was surprised to find that he was bathed in perspiration, despite the fact that it was a cool day. It certainly hadn’t been the start to the week which he’d planned but he thought, I was just unlucky in that lesson. If I keep calm, I can put the experience behind me and still have a successful week.

His confidence had taken a knock, but Henry recovered his composure quickly and completed the day well enough, although he was pleased that the afternoon lessons didn’t involve too much practical work. The following day went even better, experiments were completed without mishap, his groups responded to his prompting and he began to regard his first lesson as an aberration. By Wednesday morning, Henry, with self-assurance restored, felt that he could be adventurous once again and decided to catch the attention of a Fifth Year group with a spectacular demonstration. Today we’re going to extract iron from its ore by the Thermite process which releases lots of chemical energy as you’ll be able to see. He noticed that the level of interest immediately rose at his words and this encouraged and emboldened him.

I’ll also heat water in a sealed tube to show you how physical forces can generate a similar force. This will replicate the events that occurred when the volcano Krakatoa exploded in 1883. On that occasion water was sealed in the chamber as lava flowed over a vent and solidified on cooling.

By now he’d really captured the interest of the class. Henry sealed water in a test-tube, clamped it, and placed it in a fume chamber where a Bunsen burner was burning on a low flame. He intended to heat the test-tube of water after he had completed the chemical reaction. As he was setting up the experiment, he noticed, out of the corner of his eye, two pupils beginning to push and shove one another. The class had been asked to gather round the front bench. Stan Smith carried his stool forward only for Ian Gillies to sit on it. It was a typically stupid incident which distracted Henry, who, as a result, failed to notice that he had left the Bunsen burner near enough to the test-tube of water to heat it. When he’d sorted out Stan and Ian, he placed the mixture for the chemical reaction, in a metal tray and inserted a piece of magnesium to act as a fuse.

I’ll ignite the mixture of magnesium and when the flame reaches the mixture of iron oxide and aluminium you’ll see a large quantity of heat released, that will be chemical energy. When the reaction is over I expect that we’ll be able to see a small number of globules of molten metal in the bottom of the tray.

He lit the magnesium and a bright white flame spread down the ribbon until it met the mixture which then burst into violent activity. The reaction ran completely out of control, melting the bottom tray and scattering globules of molten iron across the bench in all directions; at that moment the pressure of steam in the test-tube of water reached its critical point and exploded with a loud report. Most of the pupils took evasive action by ducking below their benches, however, there was half a dozen at the front of the class, leaping about desperately, trying to avoid a cascade of molten metal particles which were falling through the bottom of the, now molten, tray and tumbling in all directions. At first Henry wasn’t sure what had caused the explosion and his heart was thumping, as he looked frantically across the room. God! he thought, what have I done? A vision passed briefly before him of headlines in the local paper saying Chemistry Teacher Slays Pupils. Then, much to his huge relief, heads began to re-appear above the top of the benches. Even those who had been dancing around avoiding molten metal appeared to have emerged unscathed. For a brief moment, a hush descended over the class, which was then followed by a cheer, prolonged applause and the hysterical laughter which comes from those who have had a scare.

Jim McCall’s face appeared in the doorway, he’d been teaching in the next room and thought that a riot had broken out. He quickly assessed the situation, decided that Henry had, more or less, regained control, and so vanished again. From that point onwards, the class was excited and unsettled, a buzz of anticipation accompanying Henry’s every action. At the end, he regarded the lesson as an absolute disaster. Some years later, when he met a member of that class, the ex-pupil talked at length about the experiment to extract iron. He said that it was one lesson he remembered in vivid detail, as did the others who were present. By then, Henry had learned the value of deliberately introducing excitement and the unexpected into lessons, and also that