I interpret class as a place to attend to further your education, make new friends, learn new things with a teacher as leader. I was five when I started St Terea’s Primary School on the Glen Road. I remember my Mum leaning out the living room window, waving the conscription letter. She looked a lot happier than she really should have been. Ecstatic actually. Motherly love eh?? I was joined on this adventure by my friend Esther, who is actually still my friend, both really excited to see what we were heading into.
I vividly remember not being able to rearrange my desk chair on top of my desk at end of day. It was like a monkey puzzle to me. Should have been easy. Just turn it upside down and set the chair seat on the table. Simple enough! Not for me! My mind went blank. All of my peers seemed comfortable with it. Why not me! Seems really stupid now. I can do it in my sleep.
Wagon wheels were another mystery. Not that I couldn’t eat them. I sure could. Big, round biscuit filled with jam and marshmallow, covered in chocolate. Bigger than a child’s hand. Not now. Not today. What happened? Did I get bigger or did they get smaller? I think the latter. They are like fifty pence pieces in size, well maybe exaggerating a bit but not much bigger. No jam in the middle. Shocking! A crime against humanity and all those wee primary school kids looking for a treat at their break time.
We had a concert in our class one day. Real treat. One girl sang a Lonnie Donegan song. Everyone know who Lonnie Donegan was? Flip! I’m so old! “Rock Island Line” it was called. Then we mimed Jesus carrying the cross to Calvary. Those two incidents don’t seem to fit, do they? I mean, He wasn’t walking to Calvary to the tune of Rock Island Line. Anyway no matter when it was I was cast as Veronica, you know the one who wiped His Face with her soft touch, azure blue new M&S towel.
“Jesus!” she shouted. “ Oh there you are. How am I going to get the stain out of these, eh? Bought just because I thought you were staying over. My home not good enough. I see you’ve brought your own accommodation. Gee I’ve heard of tortoises carrying their homes on their backs but that beats it all. Did the tent blow away?”
Poor Man. He was too tired and sore and His burden too heavy to pay any heed to her.
Sorry. Hope nobody’s offended. Just a wee bit of humour. Back to the class. Do you remember the cane? The dreaded cane! Wouldn’t be allowed now thankfully. Capital punishment or what! I got caned one day for no apparent reason. Frig that’s really sore on the palms of your hand. I think all teachers were sadists in the fifties and sixties. I think it was Ms Owens and do you know what she said when she found out I was innocent.
“Ah well. That’ll do for the next time.” No apology, nothing. I remember that same teacher walking down Andersonstown one day and as I looked at her I wondered what those pointy things were poking out of her chest area. I was very young at the time. Conical bra! Remember them! Now I know I’m getting on a bit but not old enough to have worn one of those. Not any bra actually. God must have forgotten about me when He gave out the attributes.
One incident that really sticks in my mind and will forever, causing me to never have a compost bin or go fishing. It was decided that St Teresa’s School would have an outdoor mass at the back of the church. So we paraded over in our twos, excited to be out of class for a while. The grass must have been newly cut at the time or it probably wouldn’t have happened. We were told to kneel down and as I proceeded to do so, legs slightly bent, I froze. Wriggling among the green were worms! A lot of them! I couldn’t kneel down in that. I just couldn’t! A shout from my teacher:
“ Kneel Down!” and I had to do it. I was nearly sick. No one else seemed to notice or else these wee creatures didn’t bother them. I was traumatised for life! I often wonder if I was hallucinating , you know the fresh air going to my brain. Out of the stuffy classroom! But I don’t think so.
Grammar school wasn’t much better for me .It was a shock to the system initially. Numerous teachers, different classrooms. Some hard to find or so I was told. Pretend you got lost in the corridors and missed the class. Not great advice. I was never one of the elite popular crowd. Skinny with glasses and from the wrong side of the tracks, poor that is, I was shunned except for the two Kathleens. Kathleen Shaw and Kathleen O’ Neil. The three muskateers. I was in the Domestic Science class. I think my two comrades were as well. We had to sew a blouse together one time. Easy yeah! Not! I ended up with a rag of a thing with one sleeve missing and if I remember rightly the back open to the elements. I looked like I’d been attacked by a lion. My Mum being a dressmaker you’d think it would have rubbed off on me. Nope! We had to parade in front of the Headmistress. And to make matters worse I think I was chewing gum at the time. She was not a happy bunny nun!
Then on to the cooking. Yip! This particular Domestic Science day involved some pastry and apples. Apple cakes! Must have been coming up to Halloween. Easy again you say. Nope! Talking of Halloween it seem sixpences hidden in apple cakes not allowed any more. Health and safety reasons! Flip! The fun’s gone out of the world. Anyway on to my catering skills which is none! Then! My tutor got so frustrated with me. I couldn’t get the pastry to roll out without flipping breaking up in pieces. I think after quite a few attempts and a pile of crumbs on my board she shouted:
“Oh for Goodness sake, make it apple crumble!”
I’m a qualified cook now and I’m sure she wouldn’t have predicted that for me.
To finish with two wee incidents. While I was at St. Teresa’s Primary, my Mum was worried about the amount of reading I was doing and she approached my teacher who advised her.
“Mrs Hillen, if she’s reading the back of a cornflakes box let her.” My love of books and writing has never left me. I’m been writing from a very young age.
In St Dominic’s Grammar a nun came into our classroom one day and quizzed us on what we wanted to be when we grew up. There were doctors, nurses, dentists, lawyers. She came to me.
“ I want to meet Elvis Presley.”
“You’re putting nails in your own coffin wee girl.”
I really don’t know what that meant because when I throw off this mortal coil I am being cremated and thrown over Graceland gates.

CLASS