Problems with school Uniform

Recently reading about some of the problems with school uniform that another blogger had written about, made me cast my mind back to the difficulties I had at school.

This was because when I joined the school there was no policy back in 1958 for compulsory uniforms, so the fact that I didn't have one when I went to secondary school did not seem an issue.

Unfortunately the headmaster decided that year that henceforth everybody in the school would have to wear uniform, which for most was not a problem, and quickly the majority acquired the uniform so as not to be the odd ones out or penalised by the school, others just transferred to other schools.

This left a small number of pupils in actual fact I think it was five, of which I was one, they started a long protracted battle between the various parents and the headmaster of the school bearing in mind there were approximately 1000 pupils at the school.

I was frequently sent home with notes for my father from the headmaster asking him to come in and discuss the matter, which he repeatedly refused to do, because his feeling was that this did not affect my education in any shape or form.

When I talked to my father about the issue, he explained that he had been forced to wear a uniform by the forces during the war, after being forced to fight and having to give up his prosperous business, therefore losing everything he's ever worked for. As a consequence he decided that he did not want me to have to comply with the rigid rules that there was no actual reason for.

Although in a sort of way I understood what he was saying, it did not stop me from feeling the odd one out, which was made worse by the headmaster repeatedly singling me out at school to stand outside his office door, which really was not going to have very much effect on my father who was not there, also it meant that I often missed classes in school.

Well surprise surprise eventually the headmaster managed to get the numbers down to one, guess who, now this wouldn't have been so bad, if he had been willing to transfer me to the school at the top of the cul-de-sac I lived in, where there were no problems re uniform, but my feeling after all this time, was that this was now a battle that the headmaster had to win at any cost to me.

I soldiered on finding it was a waste of time to be in the choir or the violin classes because I could not take part in any public performance, but continued in the Grammar stream of the school and maintained decent results for the first four years.

In the final year, I had become wiser and had a spare coat of the uniform that some kind person given me that I could wear when needed, although I knew better than to wear it in the class because it would have fed back to my father. I was still doing okay and actively involved as the ink monitor, assisted in setting out for assembly and was also involved in anything theatrical backstage at the school.

I had learned to keep a low profile in school, and went to great lengths to try to be friendly and obliging to everybody so I would not be picked on, which I feel is still part of the person I am today, good or bad.

Sadly towards the end of the school year just before I was due to take my mock GCEs, one of the other boys brought some alcohol in to share with others, he wasn't a very popular person, but he suddenly acquired friends, I therefore added two & two and decided to copy him, knowing that my father had alcohol in the house.

A few days later I brought some in, and offered some to my best friend, explaining that we could share this with others in our class, but then got called away, and later went to my next classroom forgetting all about the booze, shortly after I was summoned to the headmaster's office, where he explained that my friend had collapsed in classroom and had to be sent home stinking of alcohol, but before he went he had explained that it was mine.

Well this was what the headmaster had been waiting for, because I had been a model pupil for all these years, I was instantly suspended after 6 strokes of the strap & a letter sent saying I was not allowed back in school until my father went to school to sort the matter out neither would I be able to sit my exams.

I gave the letter to my father & guess what another good hiding which to me at the time seemed a little unfair, but would my father go to school no way, so I missed some of the first most important exams of the year, until finally I was allowed back in to take what was left ULCI Geography & History were all I came out with, before being expelled from school.

What difference did it make, well I missed careers advice, not sure if that was good, learnt what its like to be the odd one out, that bullying is not helpful in any way, decided to support the underdog & to do whatever I could to make it easier for my children if possible, if ever I had them, that power corrupts.

For years after I decided that one day I would go back & confront the headmaster & explain to him what he had done to me, he could so easily of transferred me to another school at the beginning, but the irony was that just when I had reached that important point, I heard that he was dead, later the school was demolished.

The positive out of all this is for several periods of my life up to the present I have worked to enable people who have problems coping with authority & supporting the underdog, maybe it wasent quite so bad an outcome after all, the other point is that I decided me and alcohol were not meant to mix in any shape or form, see future blogs about evidence to support this.
I hope you enjoyed the read