111 - School Nickname

My nickname at school was Witch. It hurt and I felt angry and ashamed, but now I like the power of 'witch'. Although not the negative connotation. The Good Witch of the West, not the Wicked Witch of the East. Pink and silver, not green and black. Magically materialising from a sparkle vapour, no broom required.

Could it have been something to do with my enthusiasm for contemporary dance in the freestyle section of physical ed? Long tangly hair. Ugly, thick Jesus sandals which I opted for in a sick panic when the tight rope of Mum's tolerance for shoe shopping frayed and snapped.

At the time, especially between the ages of 11 and 14, I hated school so much. 

But looking back, it was a terrific school, one of Henry Morris’s village Colleges in Cambridgeshire.

"Morris was a visionary educational pioneer and chief education officer of Cambridgeshire, whose ambition was to bring opportunities to rural communities and lifelong learning ‘from cradle to grave’."

There were huge science labs, complete with gas bunsen burners for each pupil, and escapologist stick insects in glass tanks. There was a 'home economics' section full of mini kitchens, just like a real home (including a sofa and mini bar). A room full of sewing machines, a workshop with metal working equipment and a wood workshop (so radical that boys and girls had to be in seperate groups to enter their 'non-native' area as in boys doing sewing, girls doing metalwork). Also, a brand new gym and (my favourite), a wonderful suite of art rooms containing piles of sugar paper, lino cutting equipment, clay, kilns and poster paints.

It still looks the same! ^

In history, we learnt about the industrial revolution (which did not skip over the topic of slavery and I still remember the diagrams of people crammed top to toe as cargo). In geography we learnt about acid rain.

We had two science teachers, Mr Allcock and Mr Noble. Snicker.

Our English Literature teacher tried introducing us to meditation.

The food was incredible. You queued at a set time for each year group and sat down to a two course meal with meat, two veg and a pudding. You were allowed seconds.

Toilet paper was hard, like tracing paper and didn't soak up the wee. What was it for? 

We applied Coca Cola lip gloss and danced to Duran Duran.

One of the kids (I kind of remember his name being Andrew Potter but that might be my imagination) thought I was cool and called me Wit instead of Witch. A boy called Beanie (tall and lanky) asked me out on a date, via hand written letter and messenger side-kick. And I had a best friend called Dawn which went well for a while, but careened a bit out of control on a trip to the Edinburgh Festival. Two girls aged 17 years, fending for themselves. Lots of hysteria and growing pains.

Thank you Mr Charlestone for poetry club.

I think I would have loved that school, if I had been more socially adept. Vivid memories.