science and nature, the main emphasis was on teaching âthe three Rsâ: a long-established term used to describe the skills of reading, writing and arithmetic. Our primary school education was always geared towards the ultimate life-changing test we would take in our final year at primary school: the 11-plus examination. The exam was in three parts: Arithmetic and Problem Solving, General English (including comprehension and an essay) and General Knowledge. As the name suggests, we did our 11-plus examinations when we were 11 years old. The results were used to determine which type of secondary school we were most suited to. The idea was that different skills required different types of schooling and there were three possibilities: grammar school, a secondary modern school or a technical school. If you passed the 11-plus then you were expected to go to a grammar school to follow an academic education, which might lead to you going on to university. However, passing the 11-plus did not guarantee a place at grammar school because there was an application process and this included at least one admission interview with the head of the school you were applying to join. Being rejected by three different grammar schools often resulted in the applicant having to go to a secondary modern school instead. Pupils who failed the 11-plus usually ended up going to a secondary modern school with the prospects of leaving school at 15 with little or no qualifications, unless they went on to a further education college afterwards.
As with everything about the 1950s, it is often the simple things that we remember most about our primary school years: the taste of aniseed balls and malted milk tablets we used to buy from the school tuck shop during mid-morning break; the enjoyment we got from swapping stamps, cigarette cards and coloured beads we used to keep in old tobacco tins; the fun we had modelling things with plasticine and papier-mâché; the awful cross-country runs we did in the rain and mud; the dreadful experience of using those brick-built lavatories in the playground. There are a thousand and one everyday things we remember about our 1950s schooldays, like the embarrassment of country dance lessons, motherly dinner ladies, paper-chains and party games, wooden pencil cases and leather satchels, conkers and marbles, and we can all remember shivering by the edge of the pool at the local baths while learning to swim. We can still picture the scene of young girls playing two-balls up the wall while singing skipping rhymes â âsalt-mustard-vinegar-pepper⦠â. We remember the disappointment of being cast in the role of âsecond hump of a camelâ in the Christmas Nativity play. Then there were all of the hopeful ambitions we never did achieve at primary school, like being made pencil monitor with extra responsibility for handing out the paintbrushes, and hoping we might get to play the tambourine rather than the triangle at the next rehearsal for the school orchestra. This small assortment of memories represents a tiny part of our overall primary schooling experience. We all had bad days that we would rather forget, but most of us tend to look back fondly on our early school years. Even those who disliked being at school will remember the contentment we felt in the shelter and safety of our classrooms on cold wet afternoons when our class teacher read short stories to us. The teacher would dramatise the action by using a different tone of voice for each character, just like a play on the radio. We were totally mesmerised by it and nothing could distract us from the plot. Perhaps they were the best days of our lives.
Whether we loved or loathed our time at school, we were always glad to get home when each school day ended, even if only to play outside with our friends. Home life was idyllic, quiet and unpretentious compared to the average family lives of today. As with our schooldays, the memories we
As with everything about the 1950s, it is often the simple things that we remember most about our primary school years: the taste of aniseed balls and malted milk tablets we used to buy from the school tuck shop during mid-morning break; the enjoyment we got from swapping stamps, cigarette cards and coloured beads we used to keep in old tobacco tins; the fun we had modelling things with plasticine and papier-mâché; the awful cross-country runs we did in the rain and mud; the dreadful experience of using those brick-built lavatories in the playground. There are a thousand and one everyday things we remember about our 1950s schooldays, like the embarrassment of country dance lessons, motherly dinner ladies, paper-chains and party games, wooden pencil cases and leather satchels, conkers and marbles, and we can all remember shivering by the edge of the pool at the local baths while learning to swim. We can still picture the scene of young girls playing two-balls up the wall while singing skipping rhymes â âsalt-mustard-vinegar-pepper⦠â. We remember the disappointment of being cast in the role of âsecond hump of a camelâ in the Christmas Nativity play. Then there were all of the hopeful ambitions we never did achieve at primary school, like being made pencil monitor with extra responsibility for handing out the paintbrushes, and hoping we might get to play the tambourine rather than the triangle at the next rehearsal for the school orchestra. This small assortment of memories represents a tiny part of our overall primary schooling experience. We all had bad days that we would rather forget, but most of us tend to look back fondly on our early school years. Even those who disliked being at school will remember the contentment we felt in the shelter and safety of our classrooms on cold wet afternoons when our class teacher read short stories to us. The teacher would dramatise the action by using a different tone of voice for each character, just like a play on the radio. We were totally mesmerised by it and nothing could distract us from the plot. Perhaps they were the best days of our lives.
Whether we loved or loathed our time at school, we were always glad to get home when each school day ended, even if only to play outside with our friends. Home life was idyllic, quiet and unpretentious compared to the average family lives of today. As with our schooldays, the memories we
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