Storytelling Sunday and time for us to tell our tale if you want to join in or see other people's stories visit Sian's place
It is September 1945, I am not quite 5 but this is the start of the new school year and so my mother takes me along to this big building. We all wait in line to register and start the new phase in our lives. The mother of the little boy in front of me asks my Mum what my name is and how old I am , as I am so very very tiny she can't believe I am old enough to start. Mum says I'll be five in December, "Oh she won't be able to start then". I am worried I want to go to school I do, I do.
Then the teacher comes along and invites us into the class room. There are strange little tables with bench seats attached with lids that rise up so that we can hide things inside, they are for two people to sit at and I'm directed to one and told that this is my desk.
We are given a slate and some white chalk and told to copy what the teacher has put on the big black wall. I quite like this, but find it hard. Teacher come round and sees all our efforts. When she comes to me she notices I have the chalk in my left hand. She tells me to put it in my other hand. I don't feel comfortable with that at all and want my mummy. It is soon time to go home for dinner (mid day meals were always dinner time).
In the afternoon it was back to that big building and time to use coloured chalks on our slates we could draw what we liked, but again teacher wasn't happy with me using my left hand.
Outside for a run around in the playground then the bell rang and we came back to our desks. Teacher told us to fold our arms and lay our head on them and have a rest. What! I thought, I hadn't had an afternoon sleep for ages and ages, only babies sleep in the afternoon.
I'm not sure I like school.