All good character-building stuff

Recently, I’ve been thinking a lot about where I am in life (probably a mid-life crisis thing) and about my schooldays (probably because I’ve been in touch with a few of my old ‘schoolchums’, recently), but mainly about the correlation between the two. I’ve aways credited my school – the Duke of York’s Royal Military School – with helping me get to where I am, but the more I think about it, maybe I should credit my school with hampering me from getting to where I could have been. It could have all turned out so differently, if only I’d had a bit of encouragement…

Before I started at Dukies, I was doing alright. I was considered one of the ‘brighter’ kids at my previous school (although this was, admittedly, primary school [U.S.: Elementary School] where you’re generally considered bright as long as you don’t eat the glue sticks or soil yourself on a regular basis), and was never in any kind of trouble. Within a couple of months of starting at Dukies (at the tender age of 11!) I was branded a “raucous yob” (exact quote), and consigned to the bottom stream in just about every subject. And I still have no idea why.

Dukies was/is a boarding school. Based on the testimonials from my previous school, I was initially placed in the ‘soft’ dormitory (Four Dorm) in the junior school [Junior High]. That lasted half a term [Semester] (six weeks), at which point the Housemaster saw fit to move myself and one of my new-found (and, perhaps, less academically-inclined) friends (name omitted in case he’s a high court judge or something, now) up to One Dorm, which was closer to the Housemaster’s quarters, and therefore a good place to put the ‘troublemakers’. Again, I have no idea why. Maybe he fancied me – he spent long enough staring at my arse as I bent over a chair waiting for him to spank me – which became a fairly regular occurrence. (He was later dismissed for taking suggestive photos of the school swimming team, so at least I wasn’t being singled out for ‘special treatment’…) The difference between Four Dorm and One Dorm was like going from an open prison to lockdown. All the hard kids and repeat offenders were there, and placed in that environment, even the softest softie will soon toughen up and adopt the collective (negative) mindset.

I did try to fight it, but wasn’t exactly given the opportunity to redeem myself. My first kick back was when I went to enrol in the drama club. I can’t claim to ever having been lured by the smell of greasepaint and the roar of the crowd, but in my last year at primary school I’d been given the lead role in the school play (St. George and Bold Slasher – sadly, it never got picked up by Broadway…) to rave reviews (from my mum…), so I thought it would maybe make an interesting diversion from the dog-eat-dog world of One Dorm, and went to sign up during ‘fresher week’. Unfortunately the Drama Club was run by the music teacher, who announced that the first ‘production’ was going to be Benjamin Britten’s The Little Sweep, (the initial “Sweee-eeeep!…” refrain sends a shudder down my spine even now!) and that if you couldn’t sing, there was no part for you. Apparently, if you can’t sing (and, as anyone who has heard me will attest, I can’t…), you obviously can’t act either (although Pierce Brosnan seems to have managed in Mama Mia…), so that was my Oscar hopes dashed, right there. This filled me with such a deep loathing for the music teacher (and musicals in general) that I deliberately flunked my Music exams, simply writing “Music is a waste of time” on my answer paper, and handing that in. That cost me a trip to see the Deputy Headmaster (which normally guarantees a caninng, but I escaped it so I think maybe he felt the same way about music – either that or he was less excited at the prospect of seeing my arse-cheeks than the Housemaster was), and the rest of the term on weekly report.

Academically, things weren’t any more positive. In my primary school, we’d never done decimal fractions, so I didn’t know what they were. It’s not that I didn’t understand them – I’d just never seen them before. So when I came across them in Dukies I couldn’t do them. But rather than take the time to explain them to me, the Math(s) teacher just declared me stupid, and moved me into the bottom (third) stream. It took me five years before I could even fight my way into the second stream, and even then I had to prove that I could take the harder ‘O’ level exam rather than the simpler ‘CSE’ one.

Another opportunity denied came when I graduated/gravitated (aged 13) to the senior school [High School], which was still the same physical school, you just had the opportunity to be bullied by a wider range of people. At this point, we were required to choose the subjects that we wanted to study for ‘O’ level. Subjects were arranged into ‘groups’, and you could pick one subject from each group. The groups seemed to be arbritrarily arranged around the individual teachers’ timetable constraints rather than actually allowing you to pick complimentary subjects. You had to take Math(s), English Language, and English Literature, but other than that, you could more-or-less pick what you liked, as long as it was one from each group. I wasn’t showing any particular aptitude (or dis-aptitude…) for anything in particular so I just picked the subjects I disliked less than the others (or disliked the teachers less…). This turned out to be Geography, Physics, German, Technical Drawing, and Biology.

Unfortunately, when I turned up to register for the Biology class on the first day of term, I was told that the class was ‘oversubscribed’, and I had to pick another option from the same group. This included such delights as Music (I don’t think so!), Applied Math(s) and Woodwork. I had literally seconds to make my choice, so reluctantly went for Woodwork. As things turned out, I did rather well in Woodwork (scoring an A grade at ‘O’ Level), but thinking about it, I actually really wanted to do Biology, and resent being denied the option just because the school couldn’t be bothered to fit one extra person in the class, or hire more teachers and split the class. Who knows, I could have discovered a cure for cancer, given the chance. (Although I guess I could have still pursued a career in medicine, if I was willing to limit myself to whittling wooden prosthetics…)

Moving on into the 6th form at Dukies (aged 16) was no less a lesson in discouragement. When I initially suggested to my ‘O’ level English teacher that I wanted to study English at ‘A’ level, he simply laughed at me. You needed to pass at least five ‘O’ levels to get “invited back” (into the 6th form) to sit your ‘A’ levels, and clearly he thought that was a stretch for me. As it happened, I passed all eight (and quite comfortably, too, I might add…), so the school felt obliged to extend the invitation – which I accepted purely because the thought of otherwise having to get a job and support myself at the age of 16 (my father making it patently clear that he had no intention of supporting me once I was out of full-time education) was just too scary to contemplate.

When they invite you back, the headmaster ‘suggests’ three subjects that you have shown aptitude for, and therefore stand the best chance of doing well at. For me, they suggested Economics, Computer Science, and Geology – three subjects I didn’t even study at ‘O’ level! The implication being that I hadn’t shown any aptitude for anything in particular at ‘O’ level, so ‘A’ levels were pretty much a crap-shoot. I took them up on Economics and Computer Science, but still insisted on taking English – which was very prescient of me, with the combination of CompSci and English paving the way for a successful career as a Technical Writer. Which makes me wonder what I’d be doing if I’d just stuck with the school’s recommended combination of subjects. Building computer models to analyze the impact of seismic shifts on the world economy? Stimulating the economy by building computers out of rock? I don’t know…

Now, as my eldest son rapidly approaches the age I was when I entered Dukies, I look at him and wonder how he would have been perceived, and subsequently treated, by the same teachers. No doubt also branded a raucous yob, having his potential nipped in the bud before he could even work out what the hell kind of a world he’d been thrown into. Well, not if I can help it. If I teach him one thing, based on my experience, it’s going to be that the teachers aren’t always right. And if you don’t understand something, it’s their fault for not teaching it correctly; if you’re not learning, they are failing, not you. (Although I’m not sure how effective such a defense will be if he does fail. “Well, my dad says you’re an idiot” may not garner him the benefit of the doubt…)

So yes, boarding school did indeed make me the man I am today.  Still bitter, and angry, even 25 years after I left…