Barry Hall’s Blog

This summer I decided to visit Cherryburn, birthplace of the artist Thomas Bewick.  An vaguely familiar voice drew me into the little museum workshop.  It was my Headmaster from primary school.  Still teaching, he looked old, but sounded the same.  Still imparting knowledge enthusiastically, engagingly.

I first attended primary school in Stocksfield forty years ago.  The Headmaster was an artist.  His presence in the school was a positive and creative one.  I now realise that my love of art started there.  Then it grew at Prudhoe Secondary School, where art teacher, Birtley Aris, raised aspirations, presented possibilities.  Good teachers are inspiring.  They have power.

I asked my mother and father about their Jarrow schooldays. Once again good teachers came to the fore.

In 1934, aged five, my father, John, started Ellison Church of England School, Jarrow.  It was situated between Ellison Street and Wylam Street.  He recalls the building as impressive. Which it would be when you are five.  He particularly remembers its large windows, made up of many small panes of glass.  Streams of natural light flooded into the classrooms.  The ground floor housed the mixed infant classes.  The first floor accommodated the older children.  It was divided into two sections, girls only and boys only.  With large sliding screens between the two.

Miss Moore taught the infants.  A friendly and jolly lady with a methodical approach to reading and writing.   Skilful.  Thrilling adventure stories were read aloud. Followed with great interest by everyone.  Forefingers no doubt tracing each word.  Paying particular attention to the spelling and punctuation.  Imaginations were fired.

Thrilling adventure stories?   It should be noted that this was the depths of The Depression.  Things were bleak.  Particularly in Jarrow.  Outside the classroom, 200 men were preparing a crusade.  Marching to London, then into the history books.  Seventy years on children are reading about them.

Sometimes the class was taken to some waste ground at the top of Clayton Street.  Here my father recalls listening to a small ginger haired lady standing on a box.  Addressing the crowds about unemployment and such like.  Her name… Ellen Wilkinson.

The rollcall of teachers at Ellison School included Miss Maddock, Miss Thornton, Miss Downie, Miss Willis, Miss Addison, Mr Pycroft, Mr Nicholson, Mr Moore , Mr Farrell and Headmaster Mr Pigg.

During the early war years Ellison School closed for a while.  Partly because there were too many glass windows in the building, rendering it dangerous.  Schooling became patchy. Pupils were sent to other schools.  Most of the children who lived close to the shipyards were evacuated to the country.  At the same time, male teachers were called up for military service…  I wonder how many returned?

St Bede’s Senior Girls School in Pine Street Jarrow, opened in 1928.  More commonly known as Mayfield.  My mother’s memories of Mayfield are all light-hearted.  Recalled with great laughter and warmth.  Cookery lessons, when the icing on her Christmas cake would not set properly.  To the rescue came Miss Dale brandishing a fork.  She flicked the icing vigorously.  Eventually the cake resembled a fluffy white hat.  Then colourful ribbon was wrapped around as a final flourish.  Snatching culinary victory from the jaws of disaster.  Viola!  The best cake in the class!  My mother later became a cook.

Music classes at Mayfield didn’t go as well.  When my mother’s composition came back with the comment RUBBISH SEE ME! she knew that Benjamin Brittan wouldn’t be facing competition.  Mary Mulholland taught drama. In a production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream…Well I’ll let you guess the casting.  But it did involve a donkey’s head…and more laughter.

Just recently I was talking to Rose Moad.  She was a pupil at Mayfield ten years earlier.  She remembers the day she left school.  Miss Mulholland gave her a small prayer book as a keepsake. Which she did keep… for years and years.

An old photograph I came across shows the building ready for demolition.  It looked vacuous,  fading fast.  Fortunately good teachers don’t fade. They live on.  In all the pupils whose heads they filled with facts, figures, skills and sometimes… just sometimes… inspiration!  BH.

Taken from ’Write Up School’ (ISBN978-0-9548587-6-X) Arts Advance Press 2006