Start and Finish
At 10 years of age, pocket money experiences were rare. I found a job delivering morning newspapers. The shop was a newspaper and magazine seller paradise, small and comfortable, a visit would make you smile. Newspaper delivery job continued into early years of High School. School was thirty minutes’ walk from home, if late I would run the distance easily in ten minutes. The paper round was early morning, alarm clock by the side of my bed awoke me at 4am, I arrived at the paper shop at 4 30am, this was a daily challenge. Walking the streets to get to the paper shop, the 10 minute walk gave me time for my thoughts about the day ahead. Mornings were always darkness, seldom any people around. Those that were, gave me the look as if to say, what is one so young doing here.
Enjoying the quiet and solitude, as I walked to the newspaper shop. The owner would sort the newspapers in order of the streets for delivery. The smells and warmth of the shop was very comforting, Bag of newspapers up on shoulder and off on my delivery round. Slipping newspapers into letterboxes always at the customer’s front door, the customers would awaken to ready themselves for their day ahead. Their newspaper prepared them as to what was happening locally and worldwide. No morning news TV shows back then, the newspaper was the trusted form of news. Back at the shop at 6.30am and return empty bag, a thank you from the owner who seldom said very much.
Each morning this was my routine except for Saturday and Sunday. On these days it seemed to be the custom to visit the newspaper shop, customers would buy the daily newspaper, with the newspaper tucked under one arm, they headed back home to read them.
Payday each Friday morning made it all worthwhile; the paper shop owner would count out the three shillings and sixpence into my hand. I shared my earnings with my Mother, the rest was mine to save or spend, biscuits and cakes were the order of the day. Favourite being a pint bottle of fresh milk, this helped wash down a bag of broken biscuits. The local bakery made bread pudding twice a week, oh joy as I purchased two and soon devoured them. This readied me for School that always lay there beckoning.
The walk to School always filled with daydreams of what lessons lay ahead today. If it was a double session of Arithmetic this morning, I often thought about running away. School start time was four hours after busy mornings started, this was always a challenge, as tired eyes would start to close.
Occasionally they let me down, I surely must have fallen asleep, the gaps in the Teachers speaking related to having fallen asleep. No mention from the Teacher or shouts of wake up in the back row.
The rows of desks were important to the Teacher, all the smart ones were in the front rows with the rest all sat at the back. In this day of class size discussions, this class numbered 30 boys in all, how could anyone expect the teacher to pass on his or her learning’s to so many.
I found most subjects quite easy, this placed me in "A" stream. I found it a challenge not being in the “B” stream for Arithmetic; this subject was so confusing. Special attention was needed in the magical world of numbers.
The Teachers scribbling with chalk on the monster black board before each lesson started did not mean a thing, always wondered if it was for the Teacher’s benefit to show us all how easy it was to find the answer to the maths problems. The calculations on the board, I never did understand them. It was too easy to fly under the radar as the teacher struggled to pass on the learning’s in the time allowed to such large classes.
The Teacher and Pupils breathed a sigh of relief, a handheld bell would ring a signal to the end of today’s lessons. Back to our homes and off to bed early, another morning awaits at 4.30.
The end of School days came without satisfaction, arithmetic again had been my downfall. High School Certificate showed in glowing red ink, mathematics “Failed”, I knew that I had failed, but was too young to understand how the “Failed “would haunt job searches.
Memories of the Teachers are still with me in my dreams, their surnames along with nicknames too many here to mention. There are two worthy of honourable mention, two marvellous men, one of Science and the other English literature. Their names were always “Mr Davies the Science” known as Dan Dare a futuristic hero, and “Mr James the English” known as the British Broadcasting Corporation radio reader, he told his stories each evening for the radio listeners. He had a voice that made you feel comfortable and warm inside, this voice was how he kept thirty teenagers interested in his classes.
They called me aside on my day of leaving School, they did their best to explain the failings. They had never before spoken one on one as Teacher and pupil, Like Father and Son relationships, they dwelt on what path to follow. Remembering them both with good thoughts, a question always pondered, was it the Teachers or the Pupil that failed the system?
Several interviews when job hunting, failed, there is that word again, the interviews always ended with, we will let you know, they did not. Mother nagged, to not give up and keep on trying. Father would always ask what career I wanted to follow.
Passed an engineering shop one day, stood, and looked at all the action inside, one of the men in overalls came out and asked if I was looking for a job, a different approach indeed. He showed me to the offices where sat two very important looking men, they introduced themselves as the owners, a Father and Son Business. Clutching the report folder of my School years quite hard and praying for some sort of intervention. I was surprised, they were more interested in my character than School reports, start on Monday as a labourer; I did and enjoyed every moment for several months.
Called to the office one day, imagining all sorts of horrors waiting, The Father called me by name, that made me feel good. “We want you to fetch your Father to witness our offer of an apprenticeship as a fitter and turner”. Listening to all that was being said, had I missed something, without question I left for home and came back with my Father. Lots of chat about responsibilities, Father signed several forms and all shook hands.
The apprentice master was a hard man, always threatening to charge the apprentices for any broken hacksaw blades. The apprentice master provided answers to the entire math scribbling on the blackboard at school. He presented me with two steel rulers, one was a foot long and the other six inches long.
His words still live with me to this day, “All the answers are on the rulers” he quietly said. He then asked several questions and commented “The answer is in your hands”. Looking at the rulers, the boy realised for the first time that all the fraction questions and answers at School were there before him. The World of 64ths and 32nds ET all were there. He did his best to hide joy on this day. Five long years and one as a journeyman, had the owners once again shake a hand and say a thank you. His Apprentice master stood and watched, a broad smile on his face. Now a Tradesman and proud as punch, just one wish, to be able to meet the Teachers that tried so hard to teach maths and make them proud as well.
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