Memories of school days in Doncaster
Mr Steel was the history teacher in the boy's senior school. His classes were interesting and disciplined, born out by the quiet attention of most of his young pupils
His diagrams to show the passage of time since the roman occupation of Danum AD71 (Doncaster) would take the class from then - to their present time. (In imagination)
They would if he could write all the details of history down - stretch as far as the race course from his blackboard.
'Imagine' he would say,' if I carried on making this chart, through the years to now, it would end in the middle of the racecourse,' (about a mile) - The class would sit in silence as teacher let his words hopefully sink in.
The pupils with no interest in learning any lessons, sat quiet. Wishing for home time.
The shock came to them when a question was suddenly hurtled sharply to a sleepy pupil.
'I don't know sir, was it humm!'
At this teacher's thick cane would crash down on to the nearest desk. 'Pay attention boy, you've no idea, I'm wasting my time with you.'
'Fold your arms sit up straight, remember when you come into a lesson with me you will always sit in the same seat.'
This would be followed by a magnificent scowl and glaring eyes, cast over the whole class.
Even the worst C three class had history planted in their minds from the lips of Mr Steel. Other teachers of renown taught at Becket Road school.
Mr Watson who unfortunately slipped one winter's day and injured his leg. He walked with a permanent limp and a stick after his accident, he was a very kind gentleman, mainly wearing a smile for all.
Mr Bradley who would insist on the boys holding their hands up to check whether they were clean. Boys could be seen spitting on their hands and rubbing them on their clothing before going into the classroom.
Mr Bailey who was the headmaster, a tall man who lived in Town Moor Avenue. He had some nice pear trees in his back garden which over hung a wall in the back lane. By standing on the cross bar of an old tandem bike - leant against the wall - it was possible to taste the flavour of the fruit, although they were a bit hard.
What better way to praise all the teachers who tried in different ways to educate poor working class children in those difficult times than still being able to recall them all these yeas later?
Coming out of the school my friend and I trekked home to Intake, up Auckland Road over Thorne Road past the New Infirmary and entering Armthorpe Road, finding the field which had a stream and a few hedges and bushes spread around
There was a path known as the Cinder Track, leading across the fields leading to Sandringham Road.
Skylarks could be seen in this pleasant haven.
After tiring of the fields, or maybe it was a matter of hungry rumblings of our stomachs, we crossed Sandringham Road into the council estate of Intake.
This was a well-kept estate. The houses being decorated outside by the council works department. Usually in green and cream, sometimes maroon and cream was used.
Very smart looking! My friend lived in Wiltshire Road. I lived nearby in Shaftsbury Ave.
This walk was done first in the morning, then home for dinner and returning at teatime. I cannot remember seeing many fat children in the 1930s.
Our council owned houses were comfortable and well built. At our young age we were shielded from domestic worries, being lucky enough to have hard working fathers who knew and accepted their responsibilities.
My father played cricket for British Bembergs. He was often mentioned in the Doncaster Gazette for his feats on the fields of the Town Moor – although we children, on watching a game held our breath as our father proudly walked out to bat and struck the first ball skywards, where it seemed to remain for awhile -- before falling back to earth into the hands of a fielder. A duck what a disappointment!
The cricketers would have a collection for us kids – a reward as we had supposedly helped to carry the white cricket bags to the town fields – the whiteness of the player's attire stood out – and made it all seem so important.
Our family was the near normal size for that period, four boys - two girls. A very happy group.
(Writing about family sizes my father William J Barker was brought up in Edlington having twelve brothers and sisters. He worked under ground in the pit. He and his brothers played in the pits cricket team.)
The mother of this large family gave comfort and assistance to other families in the Edlington - area in times of stress, births, deaths and illness. Her maiden name was Cocking. (They were married in Arksey Church, there is an entry in the registry of the Church so I'm told.)
The 1926 Miners strike caused my father to move his family from Edlington.
He was lucky enough to be offered a new council house in the Intake estate, built by the Doncaster Corporation.
Returning to Intake in this story, we were a family growing up happy and slowly, with the asset of the nearby race course and Sandelbeat Wood not forgetting the Town Fields, an area of green playing fields.
Schooldays started here eventually - as time past - leading to the long walk to Beckett Road School and the meeting with the teachers previously mentioned.
For youngsters time seemed to pass slowly in those days. Plenty of space in the nearby fields for adventures, the streets were quieter with less traffic.
Starting school - memories of small pieces of paper to write times tables on, and the endless repeating of the same tables so boring.
Far better was seeing who the cock of the school in the playground was at playtime.
Home time and the freedom of the fields – (parts of which were still not used for housing). Woods were near by for brave kids to venture into.
There were small pools of water with builders' planks floating - great for playing around.
This was better than school - balancing on the planks - getting wet shoes and making mud pies.
Once missing an afternoon at school to play at making rafts and shaping clay balls. Even learning how to make a big splash with a builders brick.
The racecourse nearby was a source of spending money for kids in Intake.
Adults visiting the races would travel on bikes. The best form of transport for a working man.
'Penny to look after your bike.' was the cry.
Back gardens quickly filled with bikes, safely kept whilst the races were run.
Competition spoiled this enterprise when greed caused some kids to shout out to cyclist ' Don't leave thee bike we' them - they'll pinch tha pumps.'
Seeing the racecourse covered deep in snow; then melting to freeze as if it was a huge skating rink was a sight to see.
Was the snow deeper then or our legs smaller - whatever the snow used to reach over our knees.
The excitement of Xmas. A penny coin, an orange - apple and a few small toys in a pillow case. Before Xmas the pleasure of sitting in front of a coal fire turning the pages of a Xmas catalogue, to pick a gift of a box of sweets, chocolate drops or wine gums etc. This task took many evenings to complete.
We did not know they were paid for in installments of maybe a tanner (sixpence) a week.
If you would like to be a regular contributor or have any suggestions for what you would like to see in our nostalgia section, email nancy.fielder@sheffieldnewspapers.co.uk
And feel free to send us your musings, poems or short stories about life in the South Yorkshire of olden days.
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Saturday 26 May 2012
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