Well Sara I am pleased to see that some people enjoyed their school life. I did too. Obviously there were tellings off, standing outside headmistress’s study (!). Detentions etc. Also one or two rather boring, unimaginative teachers but on the whole it was good ( and the punishments would fit the crime). The best teachers in my experience were those with ‘natural’ authority, humour and intelligence. They were respected and one would not wish to incur their wrath, but they were fair. I am still in touch with 11 out of the 14 girls in my form , although 4 live in other continents, and as many of us as possible try to meet up annually...after all we are getting on a bit now! Reading this thread it seems, sadly, that the Nuns were the worst offenders regarding sadistic behaviour.☹️
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Best years of our lives?
(108 Posts)I recently bought one of those A4 blank lined books with 'My Life' written on the front and I've had many a happy time going over the past and writing it all down.
When it came to my early school years and the teachers we had however, I remember a couple of 'tartars'. We were in the second infants class aged about 6 and our teacher used to hit us quite hard across the knuckles with the ruler if we got our sums wrong. It was also quite common to have the board rubber thrown across the room at the culprit who talked in class, with amazing accuracy! Imagine that today?
Later on, we had a history teacher who terrified us just hearing her footsteps coming down the corridor and heaven help the one who had a cold and sniffed through the lesson! I also remember having my head slapped for drawing on the condensation on the window by one teacher. The same one gave me a dressing down for having the "wrong shade of green" hair ribbon. I do remember the lovely teachers I had, but the tartars seem to stand out in my memory. Anybody with similar stories?
I started Infants School aged five at Easter in 1949. The teacher was Sister Patrick with a class of 60.
At some stage on my first day I was called up to her desk and told I was going to be caned because I had been talking. I said, "I'm sorry I didn't know I wasn't allowed to talk".
The result was she drew the cane across my hand without any pain.
A few years later I realised she must have been very new to teaching and even to being a nun.
My next teacher was Miss Twomey who was said to have rushed out of the class room the previous year, grabbed her bike from the cloakroom and thrown it at a boy who was annoying her.
Fortunately She Didn't seem to notice me much.
KatyK what a childhood you had!
My (Catholic) primary school was great, I loved it, but not so the senior school, mainly awful and often weird teachers ( all female) with a few teaching nuns.
My homelife was fine, unlike yours,but with a working Mother and no Father, we were sometimes a bit on the hungry side.
Hope the rest of your life has been good, to make up for it.
I suppose it was Katy, maybe I’m looking back through rose coloured glasses
I wish it could have been the same for you
How lovely that sounds Sara
Katyk
What a terrible time you had, it seems unbelievable that teaches could treat children in that way, and get away with it
I think I always loved junior school, our first school was a tiny purpose built building, with tiny desks, tiny toilets and basins, and lots and lots of toys. Every afternoon we were meant to have a nap, and our teacher would let down her very long hair and brush it, sometimes she took us all to her house to play in the garden
Junior school was good too, liked all the teachers, and always lots of play as well as lots of work
Senior school was where I started being a mouthy madam, challenging everything, and being a right bolshy cow at times, overall though, happy memories, some great and inspiring teachers, and a lot of laughs (and quite a few fallings out)
I can so relate to KatyK, I was taught by the Sisters of Mercy ( they had no mercy). They could give a beating any mercenary would be proud of but humiliation was their expertise.
The snobbery was on another level.
You always knew the children that would be chosen for plays, awards etc etc.
Thank the Lord things have changed.
I loved my junior school, had the cane one for sliding on the school roof in the summer holidays and once more for not
owning up when we were asked to own up. All the staff were great .with such happy memories Seeing the school demolished in the disaster was so distressing.
When I was 5/6 I had to wear one of those eye patches across my glasses on the right eye,they said to strengthen my left lazy eye,my mum had gone into school to make sure the head knew of this but me being self concious of it left my glasses off one day and she spied me right across the hall at morning prayer,she did no more than frog march me onto the stage and tell the whole school if any one see's glamma without this patch you must report it to the teacher I was mortified.
Sister Gabriel was a convert, they're the worst, too fervent by half. I wasn't RC. She loathed me and I her. She made my life very uncomfortable through actions rather than words. One year I had the lead part in a play and when I arrived late for a rehearsal - all of 3 minutes - I lost the part. B☆*☆h. When I left I didn't even dignify her with a farewell; just walked out. Best day evah! I wonder how St Peter greeted her at the Pearly Gates. Hopefully with a 'return to back of the queue and take the stairs downwards'.
In the main I think I enjoyed my primary school years and don't have any horrendous memories - got the ruler on the palm of the hand a couple of times.
We were very poor most of the time and remember the embarrassment of often not having the full 5/- I think it was on a Monday morning for the week's school dinners. My mother had intermittent cleaning jobs so I suppose at those times we didn't have free school meals.
I wet myself once in the first day or so but the teacher, the lovely Mrs Forster, didn't make an issue of it.
I've told this before because it stuck in my mind: Billy Connolly recalled when at something like an open day at university with one of his children, a man came up and introduced himself saying he'd been one of his teachers. Connolly gave him a mouthful saying you made my life hell at school! I assume the chap scurried away. 
Oh to be another Roald Dahl who had such an unhappy childhood at school that we now enjoy the likes of Miss Trunchbull, The Child Catcher, Boggis and Bunce and Bean, and the Grand High Witch.
He certainly got his revenge 
At lining up after playtime I put my book over the head of the girl in front to keep the rain off her. The teacher thought I was hitting her so I got sent to the head mistress and slapped hard on the legs. I was five! However, I have never forgotten the feeling of injustice and as a teacher myself I always tried to remember that there might be another side to the story.
My left hand used to be tied behind my back in an effort to write with my right hand! It never worked, still left handed, was told by a teacher that I would never amount to anything when I left school, she was wrong I went onto become a very successful PA to a high profile gentleman. I don't bear a grudge though, but hopefully we have moved on from such awful treatment metered out to children.
People today couldn't imagine such cruelty.
Just the faces of most of the teachers were enough to give you nightmares without the punishment they meted out. One male teacher took great delight in humiliating the boys who he punished, such as once when whacking a boy across the behind with his cane there were clouds of dust coming from the boys trousers but I made the big mistake of laughing because of the dust and I was next up for that cane across the back of my legs. Between a mixture of pain and embarrassment I spat at the teacher and there was a deadly silence in the class.
I just ran to the back of the class and stayed there until hometime. You should have seen the stripes on the backs of my legs. I was 11 at the time and spent the rest of the time hoping he'd die before I left the primary school.
I did gilly but I'm still here. Not sure how .....
How bloomin' dare they call themselves The Sisters of Charity KatyK . What a horrible start to life you must've had. 
KatyK 
gilly that is just so sad 
gilly Some of those nuns were vile. It made me smile when, some years after I left school, I found out that the Order who taught us were called The Sisters of Charity!
I used to fantasise of our frog faced headmaster meeting a grisly end too lovebeigecardingans 
My grandad used to tell me a story about the nuns. He was taken aged about 5-6 to a nearby church where they had a Christmas party for the poor children (of which he was one). There was a big Christmas tree with toys on it. At one point in the proceedings he was singled out by a man dressed as Father Christmas and asked what he would like Santa to bring him. He pointed up into the tree and said "that train" please. The FC just laughed and he was given an orange. Upon returning from the party one of the nuns took him aside and told him he had disgraced the entire church by his greed in asking for the train, she thrashed him and took his orange away.
Oh no I didn't mean to make anyone else's experience sound not so bad. It was my bad luck.
I remember the PE teacher who was a horror.. She was nasty to everyone but particularly to me. I don't know why. I'm not a violent person but I still fantasise about getting my revenge. Pushing her off a cliff would be very satisfying, perhaps a bit of torture first. The worrying thing is that the more I think these things the more I enjoy them!
KatyK that sounds so awful 
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