First day at school

I remember being left and told to stay with the teacher. I did just that. I followed her every move and I remember standing at the front of the class and putting my arms up to her to be picked up. She told me that’s not what my mum meant. It was the 69’s - I can remember that she had a short skirt and boots on. I remember the name Mrs Thower. Isn’t it funny how some things are just indelibly printed on your mind?

Not quite on my first day of school. I hated the girl I was sat next to, Sharon M. She stabbed me in the palm of my right hand with a lead pencil which broke off. 62 years later I can still see the broken bit of lead buried within.

I hated everything about school. My parents weren't very sociable so I hadn't really had any contact with other children so being in a classroom full of them was traumatic to say the least. At the end of my first day I turned to the girl sitting next to me and asked if we were best friends now. Her answer was a very cold "No" I used to wet my self most days because I was so shocked by the whole experience that I didn't even know I was doing it, but no one ever talked about it or did anything about it. One girl cried for the entire day on her first day, but I couldn't even do that. Fortunately we had a GP who would diagnose an illness for me once a term. He used to tell my mother I had had as much school as I could cope with without a break. I was about 12 before I really settled into a school and made friends.

I loved it, I’d had the Ladybird book Going to School for Christmas before I started, and I had friends from my street already there - and new shoes which I was keen to show off as I wasn’t allowed to wear them until I started school. I ran in without a glance back at my mum. My only bad memory on my first day was the milk at playtime, which I thought was disgusting, it had bits of ice in it, I can still remember the shock.

Oh yes, I remember it well. I had a massive screaming tantrum (when I realised I was trapped) and tried my best to punch and kick the big green door down. I wanted to get out and go home. I hated noise, people touching me or getting close, so was inconsolable.

That awful milk, yuk, (my autism and lactose intolerance simply weren't recognised back then) the being sick, day after day. I'd sneak it to my friend and she'd give me her empty bottle. I spent most of my time in the nurse's room. At least she was nice, so I'd read to her.

I just couldn't understand why I had to go to school. My mother was always (pretending to be) ill, so I felt I should be at home, looking after her and my baby brother. I could already read, write and do my sums etc. very well - so found it all so pointless. I was hopping mad and so traumatised by it all.

I started in the January and I was very keen to go to school wearing my kilt and hand knitted jumper. My vivid memory is of a girl called Janet wearing zip up slippers. I was given a little tin of plasticine and my towel had a blue lamb embroidered on it. Luckily I had lunch at home as I wouldn't go to the toilet at school. Happy days. Sadly I was not so happy at grammar school.

I remember my first day like it was yesterday. I didn't cry but sat wondering why on earth a lot of the other children were. It was an old victorian building, painted brick interior walls, top half cream, bottom half pale blue/green. The windows were high up towards the high ceiling so we couldn't see out. We were given slates and chalk when learning the alphabet. Our teacher was just the nicest, most gentle, kindest person I've ever known, the most beautiful smile. Miss Eccles. When I wet my knickers she took me to her cupboard where she she had a bag of clean, dry knickers and sorted me out and told me not to worry. (Sorry "Kate49" you didn't have the same experience). Everything went down hill from the next class onwards throughout my school days.

I don’t remember the exact first day, but I started at nursery school when I was 3, in the middle of the war (WW2). My mother said I was lonely when my elder brother started proper school. It was a small private nursery school, and my chief delights were the shiny black paper umbrellas we stuck on the weather chart when it was raining. I was also totally fascinated when the teacher who demonstrated nose-blowing lifted up her skirt and took her handkerchief out of a pocket in her knickers.

I loved that little school, and also the girls’ junior school I went to later. I didn’t go to school with boys after the age of 7. No loss, in my view.

Kate1949

Yep. My mother let a dentist take all of my teeth out when I was 11. My childhood was a nightmare.

You,ve had a rotten time Kate. My cousin still brings it up.
I must admit my mum had no patience with me when I cried with the others at school, just told me I need not try it because I was there for good.
My gran looked after my cousin and after about a week she hated it. When gran got home my cousin was sitting on her step she had run away and gone to grans house down a long muddy lonnin so no one would see her.
My DH sneaked off school one playtime and took two other boys with him he was found two miles away playing on the local docks. He was in big trouble at home and school.

I started in the middle of the year as we had been living abroad because of my father’s work. We returned to this country following his death. All I remember of the first day is the teacher asking me to show her my handkerchief and I told her that I didn’t have one as I didn’t have a cold. She said one should always carry a handkerchief. To this day I am always checking to see where my handkerchief/ tissue is.

I was only at my first infant school for a term because a new school opened and we were in the catchment area for that one. I can clearly remember my first day there because there was still a big pile of builders rubble in the playground which we were warned we mustn’t go near. We did of course! I loved that school as it had a big field behind it and in summer we often had lessons out there.

After reading all your comments I feel so sorry for those of you who suffered and glad for the ones who didn't get distressed. I like the learning aspect of going to school.As a bed wetter I blamed my mother for sending me to school smelling of wee.I now know why no one wanted to play with me.On a school trip I was made to sit next to a boy on the coach who smelt of wee and later at home I told my mother it was horrible sitting next to him not realising that I smelt too.Second hand clothes and shoes didn't help either.These things made me determined to be a better parent and to work hard and not be poor. I find sharing unpleasant memories a great release and hope you do too.

It wasn't the same in England even in the 60's. At Grammar School two of my friends were Consultants' daughters one a G.P.s one a vets and two Dentists. Their brother and sisters were also in the same Local Education Authority school.

Yep. My mother let a dentist take all of my teeth out when I was 11. My childhood was a nightmare.

Grannynannywanny

That’s horrendous Kate1949.

It would be child abuse these days, just like they cut all your hair off and put that stinky lotion on then everyone knew why.
Poor you Kate 1949
The school Dentist took all my cousins front teeth about 8 out when she was 11. They would not believe they were her second teeth She has had a plate at the top nearly all her life. My mum would not let me see the school dentist so I was always marked as unfit.

We were given an apron and handtowel and shoe bag with a small embroidered animal or flower on it and the same as our coat peg.
The toilets were outside and up the yard, The washbasins were tin dishes set in a desk.Izal loo paper was really hard.
The second day I cried like others, mum asked me why I said because Winnie my friend did and I was told not to bother doing it again.
I remember high-up windows we could not see out of and they still had crisis cross marks on them from the war tape, it was an old Victorian building.
We had cards with your name on you had to find yours then copy into a book. One boy sat in a wheelbarrow behind a door and never got out, he must have had a problem but it was treated by letting him sit there. DH says he cried because his towel had a chicken on it and the others had tigers and lions.

That’s horrendous Kate1949.

Torture indeed Perky For me too. Imagine taking a 7 year old (me) out of class with no explanation and putting her in the back of a transit van alone with no idea where she was going. The doors opening at the other end and someone in a white coat telling you to get out of the van and follow him. Taken into a building, having your head deloused, being put back in the van and back to school. Still no explanation.

I started school at Tedburn St Mary school in Devon. We lived on a farm and had quite a walk, with my Mum, to catch a bus every morning. I remember roll call and everyone replying with the word ‘present’ (but there weren’t any!). Not long afterwards we emigrated and I was that girl who spoke ‘funny’.

I was raised by my maternal grandparents and on the first day of school I cried and screamed because I didn't want to be separated from my grandmother. I hated school for the rest of school years. It was torture.

Germanshepherdsmum

Oh yes, the awful outside loos. 😱

And the toilet paper was kept on a shelf in the classroom and you were only allowed to take four pieces ..............

We had a nursery that was part of the school. You had to walk through the hall and corridors to get there.
We had little beds that were put out after lunch. It had a huge open fire.
So going to primary school was just a natural progression.

We didn’t have hand washing facilities after using the outdoor loos! 😱

I remember wearing a tartan skirt, which had a slit pocket in between the pleats, with my biscuit money in it. I somehow couldn't find this pocket, but my lovely teacher helped me - Miss Robinson, who had dark hair, a pretty face, and red lipstick. That was in 1964

I vividly remember the pink carbolic soap which was cut from a large bar and a small cube left at each wash hand basin. Also the hard toilet paper which could have worked as tracing paper.