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| The teachers' table sat in front of (and parallel to) the stage |
Believe it or not, I was rather shy and introverted as a primary school pupil and didn't mix well with my fellows. Back in my day, it was the practice to pair off with a classmate when en route to anywhere in the school by saying "Take!" and clasping the hand of the favoured (or simply available) choice of partner before making our way (in a double-filed line) to whichever part of the school we were led by the teacher.
One day (in 1966), the bell rang for dinner, and the playground emptied as the throng of kids made its way into the corridor outside the dining hall, pairing off while awaiting permission to enter. (I'm unsure why we were in the playground at dinnertime, but we were. Perhaps we were the second wave of hungry diners that day.)
Anyway, I hung back because I didn't have a fellow pupil to pair off with - for two reasons. Firstly, no one picked me, and secondly, I was just too shy to put myself forward. My brother found me lurking in the corridor and enquired why I wasn't in the hall filling my face. I explained my situation and he took me to see Mr. Curry, the janitor. Wishing to avoid embarrassing me by saying "He's too shy to go into the hall by himself", he just said "He was at the far end of the playground and didn't hear the dinner-bell."
Mr. Curry took me to the door of the hall, opened it and actually whistled to the teachers sat at the 'top table'. Mr. Halliburton, the deputy head looked over, and Mr. Curry nodded at me in a contemptuous manner. "Didn't hear the bell," he explained as Mr. Halliburton came over, in a tone which suggested "a likely story".
Without saying a single word to me, Mr. Halliburton grabbed me by the back of my shirt collar and, no exaggeration, my feet barely scuffed the stairs as he ascended to his classroom on the top floor. There, he administered several strokes of 'the strap', with such severity I had the wind knocked out of me. Then he dragged me back down to the hall and said to one of the dinner ladies "Give this boy his food!"
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| Ignore the doorway on your left. It was the doorway to the side of it on your right from which Mr. Curry hailed Mr. Halliburton |
I'll choose my next words very carefully.
What a nasty, sadistic b*st*rd! No sympathy, no empathy, no clue about how to deal with kids who were a bit self-conscious or introverted. How he was ever allowed to be a teacher, never mind a headmaster (as he later became) remains a complete mystery to me. I met him at various times in my teenage and adult years, and though I was always perfectly polite to him, I never forgot the appalling way he had punished my 7-year-old self for merely being a bit shy and lacking in confidence. Schoolkids today don't know just how fortunate they are, that's for sure.
One of his two sons was in my class in secondary school, and I always felt just a little bit sorry for him. Not that he was a sad individual or anything like that, but I have the impression that he copped a fair bit of grief simply for being his father's son. Mr. Halliburton hadn't been well-liked by quite a number of pupils, and poor Neville would've had that situation to deal with, unfortunately. Probably the opposite of his primary school days I imagine, when none of his classmates would've dared touch him for fear of incurring his pater's sadistic and unholy wrath.
I last saw Mr. Halliburton around 9 years or so ago, but he was pretty ancient, and I'd be surprised (though undismayed) to learn that he's yet alive. If it's not already happened, it won't be long until it's Mr. Halliburton's turn to see 'The Headmaster'. I'm not so bitter over my experience though, that I'd begrudge him being accorded the understanding, insight, and mercy that he seemed incapable of displaying towards his unfortunate pupils.
Hey, maybe I'm a better person than I thought.
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Incidentally, there's a subsequent incident involving Mr. Halliburton where I defied his attempt to punish me again. I'll tell you Criv-ites all about it another time.
