ALBIE’S FIRST DAY at the Sheringham Infants’ and Primary School was, clearly, not quite what he had expected. Instead of being allowed to ‘play outside’, and ‘have a quiet nap’ when he felt like it, he was forced to sit at his desk all day and ‘do as he was told’. How would the lad take this infringement of his liberty? Indeed, would he accept that ‘learning’ was good for him? Read on, and see!

DURING THE EASTER TERM OF 1946, Albie started school. At that time he had no idea what he was letting himself in for, but he was soon to find out.

On that fateful Monday morning, a great many years ago, Albie’s mother took him by the hand and together they took that first fateful walk through the streets of Sheringham in the direction of the Infants’ and Primary School.

At the end of Cremer Street, opposite the Fire Station, stood the gaunt, red-brick building, the infants’ school and to be his ‘home’ for the next six years! Surrounded by tall, black-painted spiked railings, to keep in its inmates, or outsiders out, the buildings had an aura of foreboding about them, giving the little lad an overwhelming urge to cry. For a moment, he clung tightly to his mother’s firm grasp, whilst a tear rolled, silently, down his cheek.

Opening the creaking, cast-iron gates into the playground, Albie’s mother led him towards the open doorway where a ‘welcoming’ committee in the form of the Headmistress awaited him and the other children. It was obvious from the start, from her ‘hands-on-hips’ stance, that the Headmistress would stand no nonsense from Albie nor any other children.

“Hurry along,” shouted Miss Wilton, the Headmistress, impatiently ringing a small handbell. “Go into the main hall immediately.”

“But, Miss,” Albie pleaded, stifling a tear at catching a final glimpse of his mother anxiously peering through the spiked railings: “I watta go hoome!”

“No ‘buts’, and no going home – get in this instant, I want to start assembly,” the Headmistress replied sternly, bundling the little lad through the doorway into the unfamiliar darkness of a large room that smelled of wax polish and disinfectant.

ALBIE ATTENDS HIS FIRST ASSEMBLY

As the children’s names were called, they dutifully trooped into the assembly hall, some ashen-faced, others quietly sobbing at the lack of loving maternal support. Each and every one stood on an individually-numbered, metal pin set in the wooden parquet floor, whilst Miss Wilton, by now sitting at a large upright piano, began to play All Things Bright and Beautiful.

Albie’d heard that tune before, although he didn’t actually know all the words, but, under the awesome gaze of the Headmistress he sang and hummed along to the music as best he could. Then they said some prayers; for distant peoples, for those stricken by the war, and for others who had no mummies or daddies. Albie did as he had been told and kept his hands together and pointed upwards, and his eyes tightly shut.

“Go to your classrooms, children,” ordered Miss Wilton, “Now, if you please!” They all obeyed, quietly and orderly, and took their places in the large, airy room overlooking the Fire Station, then their teacher then told them to open their desks.

Inside were some books, a couple of pens and pencils, and some paper. There, in the very darkest corner Albie found a little metal box of the teeniest, prettiest seashells he had ever seen. He was wide-eyed with amazement as he’d never seen their like before.

“Please, Teacha,” he called out, putting his hand in the air, “Wha’s these here totty seashells for then?”

“To be sure, Albie, asking questions already?” she laughed, “you’ll find out soon enough, so you will!”

Later, all the children were ‘treated’ to a small bottle of milk. Oh, how Albie hated milk, but he was told, quite forcibly by his teacher, to ‘drink it all up – every last drop’! But worse was to come as, when they had all lined up as the teacher told them, a spoonful of evil-smelling, cod-liver oil was thrust down their throats.

Like many others before him, Albie tried his best to swallow, but it just wouldn’t go down. Whenever he swallowed, he gagged; and whenever he gagged, he sicked it up again into his mouth and had to swallow it again – until he met with success!

“Can I hev a coshie now, please, Miss?” he asked the teacher, as politely as he could, “To tearke the dutty tearste away!”

Request denied; which surprised him somewhat, as he always was rewarded with a ‘sweetie’ after taking his medicine! Not so under the Infants’ School Regime, it seemed.

Playtime didn’t come a moment too soon for Albie as, with the other boys and girls, he scampered about the playground like a mad thing with arms outspread imitating a Spitfire. Then he noticed a ‘kerfuffle’ in one corner of the playground and went to investigate.

ALBIE’S FIRST TASTE OF PUNISHMENT

A group of children were, as they do, trying to upset one rather scrawny boy by grabbing at a red balloon he was holding. Now, he was rather proud of his red balloon as he’d had it from a birthday party only the day before. So, Albie tried to help, and began pushing the other children away.

‘BANG’ went the balloon, and the noise summoned the attention of the Headmistress.

“Please, Miss,” howled a boy, who was actually much larger than Albie, “he’s jist bust me balloon!”

The Headmistress grabbed Albie by his ear and dragged him, protesting his innocence into the Assembly Room.

“It did git bust,’ he confessed in all honesty, “but it wus not me what did the bustin’.” His please for clemency fell on deaf ears, of course, and the Headmistress, intent on making an example of the poor boy, swiftly punished him in front of the whole school of infants.

“I will not,” – ‘whack’ (on the back of his legs), “tolerate this kind,” – another ‘whack’, “of behaviour,” she shouted. Followed by another ‘whack’ just to make sure of reducing an already tearful-looking Albie into a torrent of tears much to the amusement of the other children. “Let this be a lesson to you all!”

Back in his classroom, and recovered from his ordeal, Albie then discovered what the little shells were for: Addin’ an’ Takin’ Away, or ‘Sums’ as the teacher called them. All the children were instructed to place the little pearly shells, neatly, in little piles on their desks, and to gather them up, one at a time, and count along with the teacher: “One-uh, Two-uh, Three-uh...”

“Children,” called the teacher, “count them out loud to yourselves, will you now!” Albie lost count at four!

When the lad returned home, he had to admit his day ‘wun’t too bad’ and began telling his Mum and Dad all about it.

“We’ve got nice little desks,” he said, “with ink-wells what wobble. An’ I sit with a little girl called Jennifer – she’s nice.”
His mother and father were rather pleased, if not a bit relieved, that he had seemed to have settled in quite well and told him so.

“Jennifer missed her mummy,” Albie then revealed, through a mouthful of bread and jam, “an’ she wee-wee’d a great big ole puddle under her desk!”

Albert, his father choked and spilled his tea, whilst Albie’s mother just hoped Nanny Edie hadn’t heard the boy’s remarks. Edie, however, just sat in her favourite fireside chair carrying on with her knitting, ‘craunching’ on her sugared almonds, and casting just the merest hint of a knowing smile in Albie’s direction.

However, Albie thought it prudent not to mention the burst balloon – not on his first day at school at least!

NEXT: Albie pays a visit to his Granddad’s Garden.

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Thanks to www.landofnurseryrhymes.co.uk and www.ukmagic.co.uk for use of music.