My High school Classes — continued

I will concentrate largely in my 1D class. I learned to love those kids. My job was to focus on their arithmetic and English. If they behaved themselves all week I would read to them from some appropriate books — but they had to be ones which were attention-holders. One morning the head of the English department brought me a book with which I was familiar, it was a play about a psychological murder, but it had several sexual  portions, howbeit, those passages were skillfully written, but nevertheless, I told the man I would not subject the children to it. His response was, "I wouldn't worry about the sexual references, they get it that sort of talk all the time at home." My immediate comeback was, "Yes, I know, but do we have to feed it to them at school also? I will not do that." So he went to the headmaster and told him and was told by headmaster to tell me to choose my own books. Some of the books I chose  were, Jock of The Bushveld, a book about a bull-terrier whose bravery soon became a legend. King Solomon's Mines, a book about an area in Africa dealing with some old ruins which were thought to date back to the Biblical King Solomon. Swiss Family Robinson, and others which I do not recall at this moment. They were books full of adventure and exciting stories. They loved the story-reading times and if they behaved badly — they were very normal kids — I would threaten them with having to do English on Friday. Actually, I used this method with all the classes I taught. It was surprisingly effective. When I was warned by my doctor that I was heading for a physical breakdown and must resign I did so very sadly. I told the children, and on my last day I came into the class-room and saw they had written with chalk all over the cupboards and black board. I immediately reprimanded them and they said, "Ah! Mrs. Sheasby, read what we have written!" I saw it was a message to me which led to the cupboard by the door, with an arrow pointing to the inside, I opened the door, and started to cry, there was a HUGE bunch of flowers. I still feel weepy when I think of it.  I said, above my emotion, "Thank you all so much. I must take them to the teachers' restroom to put them in water. As I was taking them the headmaster saw me and exclaimed, "Where did those come from?"   I explained it to him and he said, "Nothing like that has ever happened before!" I think the reason for my success with those kids was that they knew I cared about them.

Another class, Form 2D, consisted of boys only — they separated the boys and girls in this form because they found they were so busy with their hormones that they were likely to misbehave in order to get the girls' attention — but that is beside the point. I also learned to love each of them, but the mischief sometimes  got the better of them. As a general rule I was able to quell their bad behavior, but one morning they were all so hyped-up that I had to call in the deputy head. He came in asked me to step out of the room onto the surrounding veranda,  pretty soon I heard "whap-whap" as every single one of them got the cane treatment (corporal punishment was the way they handled naughty boys). When he came out and I went in they all grinned at me, even those with tears still on their cheeks, and all was forgiven because they knew they deserved what they got. That was the only time I had to call on the deputy head. This class also bought me a farewell gift — a box of beautiful lace handkerchiefs. Again, I was very touched.

The Form 3d was, of course, full of well developed boys and girls. One day the deputy head came to tell me that I was going to have a new student, but he warned me, "He has already been expelled twice, but his father brought him in and begged us to give him another chance. We agreed but told the father that one more misdemeanor and he would be out for good." I said it was okay with me. Well, the next morning he turned up in my class, and I could see that all the kids were scared of him. They had a rule in British schools that required the kids  to all stand until the teacher gave them permission to sit. I came into the class and my newcomer was standing as well. I said, "Good morning class," to which they responded, "Good morning, Mrs Sheasby." "You may be seated." All of them, except my new-comer, sat.

He stood at his desk and started rotating his hips, with the grin on his face. An audible gasp went out from the others as they stared in fear, yes, that is the word, and waited for me to respond. "I said you may be seated," Still no response. I closed my eyes and prayed a silent prayer, then is started walking slowly to the door — he sat down. There was an audible "Whoosh" from the class. I had no more trouble from him, but a few days later he was expelled again, but not because of my telling on him. When he was the gone class told me, "Mrs. Sheasby, he is a really bad boy."

After leaving Northlea I had a couple more very short periods of teaching at other schools.