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I did well on my 11-plus exam and had been accepted at a grammar school. An English grammar school is different than an American grammar school. In America, a grammar school means an elementary or primary school. In England a grammar school is an secondary school with an acadenically oriented program, A test was given to 11 year olds in primary school. Only those who did well were able to attend a grammar school. The others went to secondary moderns. At the time, educational authorities were just beginning to introduce comprehensive schools.
Looking back when I was growing up the 11+ was still quite a big thing – it determined whether you could go to a grammar school or not – but I can honestly say it wasn't such a big deal in my family – at least as far as my Mum was concerned – my Grandfather who lived in Leeds had other ideas – but that didn't effect us so much as it did my cousin and was to do with his background I think.
When I was 9 years old I had quite a serious illness. I missed quite a bit of school and fell behind – even though the school sent work home and my Mum made me try it even though all I wanted to do was read books. Anyway – that Summer I recovered fully and also met my friend Michael who I have written so much about already. My Mum was quite happy for me to be running around outdoors after I'd been laid up for so long and she didn't insist on me catching up on any work through the Summer holidays – if she had I'd have gone mad!
My elder brother was now to enter his last year and, because the top two classes often had lessons together, the school decided to put me temporarily into class 1c. This was known as the “dunces class” among some boys – there were boys (and boys only) from age 9 to 11 there and they stayed there until leaving – the school having decided that they were not to be entered for the 11 plus and there were others - “troublemakers” who they wanted to keep from hindering the other classes. Then there was me - who was there because I needed time to catch up and also because me and my brother had started fighting badly and they wanted to keep us apart. Anyway – my Mum agreed to this and for once it was my older brother who got into big trouble with her if he teased me about being in the “dunces class” in front of her – and even my little brother got smacked when he copied so that was a good thing about it for me! As it happened that year was one of my best at the school.The “troublemakers” and “thick” kids (as others called us – but not in hearing) were nothing of the sort – but amongst them were the toughest kids in the school. Because I was “one of them” I got their protection and on top of that we had a lot more fun. The teacher was the only male teacher in the school and he was great with the kids. We spent a lot of time just talking – he'd tell stories but sometimes we'd have to get on with the same sort of work the other classes were doing – maths and so on. At the same time I was still getting work from the other teacher to help me to catch up and I had to do this at home. Fortunately I found it pretty easy and when my Mum found that I was keeping up alright even though I wasn't spending long on the work she let me go out and play like before.
Meanwhile my brother passed his 11 plus pretty easily and, although my Grandfather was very pleased (he gave my brother 10 shillings which was a fortune – and he promised me the same if I passed which didn't impress me as I wasn't bothered that much then). I'd been away in Germany for most of the Summer and I had grown a lot more independent and physically tougher. My Grandfather wasn't at all impressed by what he called my “attitude” but my Mum protected me from the worst of his anger!
As it turned out I fitted back in to the top class quite easily – too easily for my Mum.The thing is that I think hanging about on the streets with Michael,going to Germany and the relaxed way the teacher in the “dunces class” had run things had taught me a lot more than the formal lessons others had had.For instance me and Michael were always coming up with money-making schemes and that was Maths! And and the stories the teacher used to tell really let my imagination let rip – although I'd read a lot too when I was sick and Michael was hardly the World's worst storyteller when we needed an excuse for our Mums!.All I had to do was fit this into the technique required for the 11+ and that was easy!.Some time into the year we started doing 11+ type practice.It was just normal sums and things as well as sort of “I.Q.” type questions which I felt were an insult to our intelligence! Things like filling in blanks :”Cat is to kitten as dog is to ...” and! number sequences like 2,4,6,..,8,10 – although some were harder.I only found out how seriously this was taken when I tried to be smart answering “chicken” or “99” to the above (we did oral practice in class although the test was written) and the teacher went absolutely mad at me – although in the old class we'd all have had a laugh including the teacher!.Anyway I started to realise what the score was and just got on with it. - but I wasn't happy.Then there came the episode when we had a trainee teacher which I've told you about and I began to appreciate our class teacher more.One thing I wasn't was a prefect.The prefects were both girls and boys from the top class and I was offered one of the enamel badges – but I turned it down – partly because my brother had been one and partly because when I was in the “dunces class” we hated the prefects more than the other class teachers as they were always reporting one of us to the headmisstress and she,assuming boys in that class were natura! lly at fault,always believed them.I know that one or two of the hardest boys in our class were always being caned by her – often for next to nothing and I know that our class teacher got fed up with it as he stormed out one day when one of the kids came in crying and I think he warned the headmisstress off because things cooled down after that.Anyway – I think I was the first boy ever to turn down being a prefect ! - the others thought I was mad but my Mum was quite pleased with me I think – just for being independent – I never told her or anyone else why.
Anyway – the next thing was that my new class teacher – who I was getting on with now kept me back one playtime and suggested to me that I might like to try to get into the school where I finally did end up. This meant sitting their own internal entrance exam as well as passing the 11+ and it sounded alright to me. My Mum wasn't too impressed though – she thought that an ordinary grammar school like my brothers was good enough for us. The teacher sold it to her though – and my Mum did have the idea that it would be better for me and my elder brother to go to different secondary schools even though it meant she couldn't pass down uniform – although that was only blazers and ties then.
I sat the entrance exam at my school before even sitting the 11+. To be honest it wasn't that hard and once again my teacher had given me extra work to practice on just for that at home and again I got it done quite quickly. The only hard bit for me was “precis” - rewriting! a passage out in a shortened form which I still find hard as you probably notice. The exam was held at the school over 2 days and when we arrived (boys from primary schools all over London) we were given a prep school boy to look after us and take us to lunch in between the exams. It all seemed a bit grand to me but I knew that I'd done well on the exams as I just followed what I'd been coached to do. The last afternoon we had interviews with the headmaster in a room in the prep department. We went three at a time and most boys there had one or two friends from their own primary school but they were split up. So there were three of us, the head and the head boy of the prep school. We were just meant to have a conversation but I couldn't think of anything to say at first as they were talking about pets – we never had any and then hobbies and I didn't have any fixed hobby like modelmaking or anything. Anyway the head then moved on to holidays and I was away as I could talk about German! y and, although the others had been on foreign holidays with their parents, the head seemed genuinely interested in my experiences and I felt at home chatting to him (I'd never really talked about it before). Anyway I'd sensed I'd got in and after that, for me, the 11+ was a bit of an anti-climax.
It was big for others though and it was the one time toys were allowed in school – kids took in little furry animals and things for luck. I didn't bother – I didn't even insist on wearing my “lucky” green briefs as I had when I had sat the exam at the grammar school. That was partly a deal with my Mum as she had made me wear a white shirt for that and I only agreed if she let me wear those briefs too. She even rinsed them out for me and dried them in the kitchen so I could wear them both days. For the 11+ I just wore my favourite grey shirt. We sat the 11+ in the school hall and we had desks in there for the first time and they were spaced well apart unlike the double desks we had in the classrooms. We were also given a brand new ruler and two pencils – we didn't use pens for that and that threw me as I broke the pencil at first go as I was eager to get the test over with!It was a hot day and I wanted to be outside – but I could see that some were struggling and nervous as I looked around and I felt sorry for them – especially one of the girls who I'd got quite friendly with – at last! There was lots of excited chatter after and some of the children's Mums had come up to the school to wait for them – we were allowed home early after without going to prayers like normal. My Mum was interested enough – but she didn't want to make too big a deal of it all. I got the letter from my grammar school excepting me before the one telling me I'd passed the 11+ and my Mum was pleased enough – but warned me that I'd have to work harder now.
You could tell who had passed and who not when I got in to school – the teacher was comforting some of the girls and some had not even bothered turning up. Some boys were boasting that their Dad's were going to buy them a bike or a watch or something but I felt more sorry for the ones who'd “failed” even though the teacher told the whole class that it didn't really matter. Then she chose that moment to reveal to the class that I had got into my school (I had had to keep it quiet although she was thrilled) and she made it sound like such a big deal that I got angry and embarrassed with her which upset her a bit too.
The only other thing about school selection was that I had my brother's grammar school earmarked for me as “second choice” in case I didn't get into mine. There was no entrance exam for that – just an interview and, of course, passing the 11-plus itself. For that interview they wanted the parents – or one parent – usually the Mums – there too so my Mum had to take the morning off work. As I say I knew in my own mind that I'd already got into my school (although the results hadn't arrived) and I didn't want to go which made my Mum really angry thinking that I was getting above myself. On top of that my brother was already at the school and doing quite well and she didn't want to cause a bad impression for his sake. Our interview was at 11 o'clock so my Mum had plenty of time to sort me out once she'd packed my little brother off to school. I'd been washing myself for a while up until then and then sneaking out to school before she could notice too much but she set about washing my hair and everything even though I'd had a bath the night before. She also cut my fingernails and all sorts and then ironed the best white shirt and newest shorts (at least they were my favourites!) and made sure my tie and socks were perfect. We then took the Tube to the school – it was a journey my brother was making every day and it made me even more glad that I wasn't going there (I was that sure!)– I could walk to “my” school – although ironically we moved that Summer nearer to his school and further from “mine” - but I could still walk to it even though it was 2 miles. In those days you could get a free pass for travel to school if you lived more than 3 miles away so my brother qualified but I didn't even after the move. My Mum offered to give me the bus fare to go in and I could walk back – but I preferred to walk and I knew that she was short of money due to giving up work until she could make arrangements for my little brother in the new area. Anyway – that was to come. For the time being she was more interested in keeping me smart for the interview so she wouldn't let me sit down on the tube – the seats could be filthy then and so we stood and she kept on telling me to make sure that I answered the headmaster politely and said “Sir” and so on. I felt emabarrassed as she was in one of her “look at me and answer” moods and I thought all of the carriage were listening even though there were no other kids on the train. I was at the stage where I was a bit embarrassed to be out with Mum – especially when she was being Mum! By the time we got near to the school and she started straightening my tie and combing my hair yet again I was in a real temper and we had a blazing row and I got a bit hysterical so she smacked my legs. I was in a sulk then and I didn't even care that the boys at the school were out at break when we went in. My Mum tried to cheer me up then saying we might see my brother – as if that would cheer me up! Anyway the next thing were shown in to the headmaster's study – as usual my Mum had timed it perfectly. This wasn't a relaxed interview like at “my” school and what is worse I had to stand in front of the head's desk while my Mum had a seat to the side – and after I'd stood all the way on the tube too! It was like when I was in the headmisstresses study at my school when I was in trouble. Then the first thing the head did was start talking about my brother and telling my Mum that he had settled in well and so on. He asked me a few things but I wasn't even listening I was that an gry. My Mum was a bit embarrassed and said that I was shy and things didn't go well at all. Afterwards she was furious and said I'd done that deliberately but I hadn't – when I was angry or nervous I'd just clam up.Anyway my Mum didn't speak to me the whole way back on the tube then she walked me to my primary school and then set off for work. I'd missed lunch and nobody had even thought of that! Anyway the teacher asked me how it had been and I said alright! Sshe didn't press me and I was just glad to be back at school doing interesting stuff. I stayed out after school playing football as I knew my Mum would be still angry. We were meant to be in for 5:00 when she'd be back in with my little brother – who a friend looked after – and then we'd all have tea together – just beans or fishfingers or something and then she'd check up on what we'd been up to at school and so on. Anyway I finally went home to face the music and the first thing I saw when I got up the stairs was my brother smirking at me – I just knew that my Mum had been telling him about what had happened and that he had been acting his “grown up man of the house” bit which he'd been doing a lot lately. I just flew at him and my Mum couldn't get us apart and even when she got the cane down from the cupboard and started whacking at me I wouldn't let go until I'd got a fair few punches in. In the end my Mum had to tend to my brother more than deal with me so I got off lightly as she just sent me down to have my bath and get ready for bed.
So that was it. Other boys went off to all sorts of schools and I lost touch with most as we moved – but the 11 plus really wasn't such a big thing for me nor my Mum – she was as much concerned with general behaviour and health as with academic education. And what is more I never did get the ten bob from my Grandad (which by then was 50p so it seemed like a devaluation!) – but then I think he did help out a lot with my new uniform as he had my brother's – but that's another story altogether!.
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