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| A slightly out-of-focus photo of me in Classroom 7 on May 10th, 1988 |
Regular readers (all three of them) will know - from my many previous posts on the subject - of my overdeveloped sense of nostalgia and sentiment for all things relating to my childhood. Here's yet another example of how my past continually calls to me, exerting its irresistible influence on my present behaviour. I've previously related the fact that one of my primary schools is due for demolition, either before the end of the year or sometime into the beginning of the next one.
I've extensively photographed both inside and outside the school and have a plethora of photographs to look back on in the winter of my years when I eventually enter that final phase. I was in the empty building again just the other day, and took the opportunity to remove the above letters from the door of the first classroom I was ever in when I became a new pupil on Wednesday, November 10th, 1965.
Originally the door was blue, and the plastic letters were white, but numerous coats of paint over the years had obscured the letters' ivory luminance. I'm currently in the process of removing the various layers and restoring the letters to their pre-altered state, and when this is done I'll get a strip of wood, paint it blue and affix 'Classroom 7' to it. Then I'll put the finished result onto my studio door as a memento of my long-vanished schooldays in a (by then) demolished building that a council 'Lend Lease' policy unfairly robbed of many more years as a more than perfectly adequate place of learning.
The numberplate of the house I lived in (77) when I attended the school is already on the door, so they can keep each other company. Sometimes it helps to keep in mind where you came from in order to know exactly where you're headed. (Or, indeed, to appreciate where you are now.)
5 comments:
Sadly my 2 primary schools and my main secondary school are now no more.....well technically no more; my first primary burnt down about 10-12 years ago and was rebuilt elsewhere, my second Primary (and main one for memories) is now a secondary school which actually replaced my old secondary school which is now a posh group of flats - a long way around saying I wish I had taken pictures of them before they went as I can barely recall the classrooms now = McScottty
Half of my first primary school is no more, with the rest to follow shortly; my secondary school is now gone also, with a replacement built nearby. When my second primary school goes, that'll be a whole slice of my childhood wiped away forever. The memories remain - and, of course, photos help to maintain them.
Now closed as a school, one of the four primary schools I attended(don't ask) was called Porters Memorial in Belfast. A Victorian two storey building,in a working class area near the Gas Works, it was divided into two by a busy main road where Ps 1&2 where co-located in the Belfast School of Music. With no playground, outdoor PE was conducted on the flat roof which was surrounded by only a three or four brick high wall! I kid you not! Health and Safety officials would have exploded exploded if they had been around in the 60s. Luckily the fear factor seemed to keep any budding George Bests from taking an unwanted free flight to the alley or road below. In fact the greatest draw back to our sky bound aerobics was losing a ball over the side as the game/lesson was brought to a halt as one of us, usually the fastest, had to run down 2 flights of stairs to retrieve said item. Although I am not a great believer in our nanny state of today, looking back on our roof top fun and games they were a devil may care step too far (luckily not taken literally). One can only wonder how no child was ever badly injured. Try telling the youth of today how hard we had it!
Ken.
Different days indeed, Ken. Nowadays, 'though, it's probably gone too far the other way and kids are cosseted far too much.
On a slightly different note, the number of times a sudden whiff of disinfectant has mentally whisked me right back to primary school is testament to how powerful a stimuli certain smells are - and sounds also. When I was in the school the other day, I had a wee in the loo - and the sound of flowing water (not my own - the water that refreshes the urinal) took me right back to the '60s. I'll really miss my old school when it's gone.
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