Back to School. Conclusion.

If you thought the 'stories' I referred to in the last post were bad, think again. You ain't heard nothing yet. So I write this post, cup of coffee and biscuit to hand and the distant sound of a school bell signalling the end of break, (I remember it well). More memories of long gone days. Strangely enough I am reminded of 'Blue Remembered Hills' by Dennis Potter a 1979 play, a great favourite of mine and enjoyed with many a class in the 1980's.

Diary September 1985, continued.

'The second story concerns another little, out of work man. He walks round the town, knocking on doors, calling at factories, all to no avail. Desperate, he arrives at the local zoo. 'Have you got any work' he asks. ' Cleaning, painting, feeding, mucking out the elephants, I'll do anything.'

The zoo owner is impressed, but times are hard.

'Sorry' he says, 'we can't afford to pay any more wages, we're struggling with the animals as it is.'

The little man looks very dejected and the zoo owner takes pity on him.

'Look' he says, 'we've just lost a gorilla and we can't afford another. You're about the same size . Three pounds a week and all the bananas you can eat.'

The little man is delighted. He goes round the back of some cages and is fixed up with a gorilla skin. A bit warm but an excellent fit.

'Make the right noises, grunts and similar, climb around a little but don't overdo it,' says the zoo owner.

The little man was delighted with his job, and very enthusiastic. He trotted back and forth in his cage, grunting and swinging his arms. He climbed the bars of the cage, terrifying the gathered crowd. Increasing in confidence and enjoyment, he practiced swinging from a tree inside the cage. Back and forth he swung, higher and higher. Suddenly his hands slipped. Up, up he went, up and over the fence separating him from the next cage. Horrified he viewed a lion gazing curiously at him. He ran to the back of the cage, screaming but the lion followed. The lion put his face close to his and the little man shut his eyes. Then he heard the lion whisper out of the corner of its mouth.

'Shut up, you fool, you'll get us all the sack.'

And the moral of the story, never judge a person by his exterior, it's what's inside that counts.)

Over two or three years the 'sermons' were provided or extracted from strange sources. ''The Finger of Suspicion' , a fifties or sixties song (who sang it we were never certain) was interwoven into a story. (There is a saying that, if you point a finger at someone, you point three at yourself, a physically accurate point when you think about it.) Harold Larwood and Dolly Parton, for different reasons were also the centre points of assemblies.

Johny Owen, the young Welsh boxer who died of boxing injuries had a profound influence on me and also became the subject of a talk. Monologues, that old fashioned medium were even resurrected on occasion. Not 'Albert and the Lion' but in particular a lesser known offering concerning the boy who asks for a doll at Christmas, not for himself, but for a less fortunate sister. Always searching for material that might amuse, educate, stimulate. An interesting aspect of school teaching, nevertheless. Happy days!'

(If anyone can pinpoint the doll monologue, I'd be grateful, I'd like to do a future blog that includes this story.)

Lost, or was it Forgotten.

Today's Times includes the story of the airline passenger who, travelling from Tel Aviv to Paris with five children, his wife and eighteen pieces of luggage, managed to leave one of the children behind.

One's immediate reaction is to be horrified at such incompetent parenting but is that necessarily fair? 'Let him who is without sin' and all that springs to mind.

I remember as a proud father of a two year old visiting the local pub with two friends for a convivial couple of hours. Only to remember after the first pint that we had been left in charge of the infant who was fast asleep in bed, blissfully unaware of our wilful neglect. All three of us were teachers at the time but still hopelessly inadequate beings it seems. Our wives were unimpressed with our dereliction of duty and we were all reminded of it for many a day.

As a teacher also I remember taking, with twenty other staff, five hundred secondary school pupils in eight non too luxurious buses to Drayton Manor for an end of term treat. (Alton Towers declined to accept such numbers on one trip and I don't blame them.) We returned with four hundred and ninety seven. The missing three returned under their own steam some time later. It was all very reminiscent of the 'Albert and the Lion' saga though with a less serious ending. Ironically one of the three tragically drowned in a local river days after the school term ended.

I remember too as a youth leader returning from Blackpool to Derby after a youth club outing minus one young lady. I had to knock on the door of her parent's house and explain we had lost the daughter they had lovingly brought up for the past sixteen years. Not funny, I can assure you, even less funny when she arrived home hours later, having found a 'young man' on another trip from Derby and travelled home with her new found friend on their bus.

Contrary to what people might think we were and hopefully still are conscientious if sometimes flawed individuals. But times have changed and in this 'Madeleine McCann' era woe betide any mistake by those in charge, be they parent or teacher. Sometimes, just sometimes I'm glad I'm just an old fool whose main occupation in life is merely watching the world go by. Or is it only me that did daft things; you tell me.