Ut Sint Unum - That We May Be One

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A few memories from my middle school which I attended in the late seventies ahead of the closure of the school site in a few weeks

It’s not just bricks and mortar
Nor a distant memory 
But the ground roots of our livelihood
And our future destiny. 

As this place prepares to close 
When the final bell will sound 
To mark the end of education  
 On these few acres of ground

So as the winds of change
Whistle down St Andrews Street
Time to take a look behind 
Before it beats the last retreat....

To days when health and safety 
Had not bound us up in rules 
When “clackers”, “chinas”, “conkers”
Were all the rage in schools. 

 Chocolate crunch with strawberry custard 
Was “ haute cuisine” at dinners
And monitors patrolled the room 
Catching non-veg eating sinners !

Then there were school productions 
That often caused a rumpus 
I was told I didn’t look fierce enough 
As a pirate in Columbus

It’s where I learnt the facts of life
Red faced at every showing 
We gathered in the dining hall
To watch “living and growing”. 

Girls in groups around the field 
Playing games with white elastic
Or spinning tubes around their heads 
Making noises quite fantastic 

And on those heady summer days 
In the shade of orchard trees,
I’d have my packed lunch and my drink 
Smelling hops upon the breeze. 

Groups  of boys in mass migration, 
Was quite a common sight , 
Swarming like bees round honey 
To the battle cry of “fight!”

“Top cat” was on the telly 
And so was “ Hong Kong Fooey”
We all brought board games into school
On the feast day of St Louis 

Queuing up in tennis courts 
Then marching to assembly, 
I doubt they had such crowd control
For the FA cup at Wembley. 

The changing rooms down by the pool 
Were not far from the gym,
Where ropes and box and benches 
Were designed to do you in. 

Bassets sherbet from the tuck shop
A treat beyond belief 
Matched only by the popping 
Of “space rocks” on your teeth

So when the corridors are empty
And the babbling voices still, 
Theses echoes and these memories 
Shall future musings fill .....

For it’s not just bricks and mortar 
Not just a place to swat and cram
It’s where the building blocks of selfhood
Turn the boy into a man.

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