St Michael's Catholic College - Leeds

[Glax]

Talking of St Michael`s playground, the playground itself was the scene of many a year-round heroic struggle in the main sports.CRICKET: wickets were chalked on the top wall which was around eight or ten feet high; a one-handed catch off the wall was allowed and the batsman was out.Stroke the ball over the top of the wall and you were given six runs but you were also ruled out. And you had to go the long way round to find the ball.and chuck it back into the game.FOOTBALL: so many different games of football were played up, down and across the playground with loads of old tennis and sponge balls, it`s a wonder we weren`t all completely bewildered about which game we were actually in, but somehow we mostly managed to sort it out on the hoof.Anyone who skyed a ball over the high fence at the bottom of the playground had to make a pilgrimage out of the college, across St John`s Road, and down to the door of the convent of the Little Sisters of the Poor, who were always delightfully patient and kind enough to show us through into their front garden where we`d usually find our ball among the flowers.For bigger football occasions – such as the “Scratch Eights” series of matches between handpicked teams - there were wooden goal posts erected in the middle section of the playground.Rivalry was mostly based on the school`s three Houses, named after English Catholic martyrs.Our school tie was royal blue with a broad yellow stripe containing a narrow stripe in the House colour; red for More (Thomas More); green for Campion (Edmund Campion); and blue for my House, Fisher (John Fisher).Perhaps the most amazing thing about these scenes of frenzied activity was the frequent sight of non-players dotted about in small groups discussing the last lesson or the ones to come, impervious to the rough and tumble of the footballers charging around them.Glax

[Glax]

Talk of the playground reminds me of the great snow battles we used to have at St Michael`s in the days when there were real winters.When the snow arrived all the House-based loyalties and competitive urges evaporated on the first day to be replaced by one over-riding principle – pelt the hell out of the young`uns! The snowball battle started with a general slaughter of anyone within throwing range. But gradually seniors started herding new boys into the triangle at the far end of the playground.It wasn`t noticeable at first but then the smaller boys found the routes back to the building were blocked by hordes of bigger enemies concentrating on them.Inevitably sheer weight of numbers forced a sodden retreat. Young heroes would launch sallies with an armful of snowballs, but these brave attacks were usually just suicide strikes. Most quickly realised they were outnumbered and outgunned.Soon there was the whole school bombarding this minority outpost with an obliterating blizzard of snow. The youngsters would huddle together with their backs to the storm, rather like those penguins who shelter each other while waiting for the eggs to hatch.People talk of the Siege of Leningrad but, trust me, that was nothing compared to the ferocious volume of this onslaught.Does this sound like the most horrible bullying?Huddling close produced warmth, protected the kids from most of the incoming artillery. And it was only snow. For a relatively short time. And only once a year.Maybe the jury is still out. But I suspect that the prayer of the huddlers was not “O Lord, save me from this tyranny.”More like “O Lord, please send plenty of snow next year when it will be MY turn to bombard!”Glax    

[Glax]

When this thread started I looked forward to reading about teachers, pupils and the atmosphere at different stages of the college`s life.As things are I apologise for seemingly turning it into a Glax blog, when I`m really interested in other eras. But please indulge me for a final word.The spiritual life was strongly emphasised by the Jesuit fathers and all the teachers at St Michael`s College.The school had its own chapel, and we were never allowed to forget that religion and morals were behind all endeavours in our daily lives.I don`t mean we were all Holy Joes by any means.But we had it drilled in that belief in and devotion to God was foremost, and the school atmosphere was one of decency and mostly reasonable behaviour and attitudes.We were constantly reminded of all this every time we started a new piece of writing, either in a class project or homework.First, we`d draw a ruler-wide margin on the left side of the exercise book page.Then we were told to write “A M D G” at the top of the margin. This was our dedication in Latin of the work we were about to do.A M D G = Ad Maiorem Dei Gloriam = To the Greater Glory of God.This phrase followed us throughout our school years. It appeared in the margins of every page dealing with all the subjects we studied.Some of us, I`m sure, continued with the ingrained habit long after leaving the college. And I suspect the feeling of reverence and serious importance lasted much longer.Glax

[anthonydna]

I always suspected it was the Jesuits claiming copyright over our work!    

[Glax]

Hi anthonydna, you mean: “Give me a schoolboy – later to become a thread contributor - at the age of seven and he will be mine for life, heh, heh!”Yes, that sort of suspicion will always be around the Jays, I suppose.But at least their punishment system was a model of fairness, as I`m sure you`ll agree.Three was the minimum number of strokes awarded for ordinary crimes such as being cheeky or making an unholy mess of your homework.Six and nine were earned for more serious cases. But no teacher ever struck you in anger.You would be verbally sentenced to a set number of “ferulas” – known to us victims as “tollies” – and you`d then have 24 hours to collect the punishment.This involved calling in at the school office, giving your name and the number of tollies, and holding out one hand. If the teacher on duty was the one who sentenced you, try again later.The ferula itself was a large black piece of whalebone shaped like a boot sole.Down it came, twice on one hand and once on the other, while you had to show enough grit to keep your hands in position.There were rumours, perhaps started by future theologians, that between the ferula and the cane, one gave less pain but the pain lasted longer. Forget that. It bloody hurt.Straight after, you`d head for a nearby washroom, where on my first time I was wisely advised by a senior pupil to soak my agonised hands under the hot tap, not the cold.In theory and in horrifying legend, counts of twelve, twice-nine (18 strokes) and twice-twelve (24 strokes) were possible. The higher numbers, we were told, would be applied to a backside wearing football shorts.To cap it all, any enduring enmity between boys could be settled in the boxing ring up in the roof.Luckily, for most of us an occasional three or six was the most we could expect to come our way. The real downside of this system, though, was that often you`d go home for the night with the sentence still hanging over you.Oops! anthonydna, there I go again…Glax

[anthonydna]

I'm always suspicious of adults who justify hitting children, I think I have let the Jesuits down! then again in their defence they did throw in the odd bit of mental cruelty to balance it out.

[gaffo]

I was at st michaels from 1949 to 1955. Does anybody else remember the Jesuit maths teacher nicknamed pussyfoot,he always wore sandals,because we thought,he had trodden on a mine in the war.     I got 12 strokes of the ferrula from him for whistling in the chapel.

[Quisutdeus]

I was at St Mick's from 1973-78. The teachers I remember include:(form teachers)Mr Dore (Maths) "The man with his head on upside down", according to Tony Roper (because he was bald on top but had a full beard)"Maggie" Hall (English)Mr Chinnery (French)Father Horan (Religion)"Bri" Nilen (Geography)andTony Roper with his tracksuit and 'Deutsches Fussball Bundesliga' badge or something similar and his "Ee, lads!""Nicotine Ned" Phillips (Music) -- yes, very like George Melly in his mellifluous tones and love of music and smoking"Harry" Ramsden (Chemistry)Mr Cassidy (Chemistry and chess)"Sweaty" Feetenby (Physics)"Texas Ted" Duffy (Maths) - one of the few teachers I never likedMr McKillop (English -- and religion?)Miss Hahnel (Religion)John Salisbury (P.E.)"Big Bill" (French)Mr Thompson (History) Keith Flynn (English)KD Morris (Headmaster) -- what a fearsome figure he wasMr Walmsley (Deputy head) -- as urbane as KD was frighteningMr Rutherford (History) -- an upright man"Norbert" (Latin) -- I used to see him at meetings of Leeds Philatelic Society, but he was a bit intimidating even thereRoger thingybobs the French teacher -- probably my favourite teacher, but I can't remember his surname now! Used to read Le Figaro and once sang an opera aria in classThat poncey geography teacherMrs Raisin, art teacher whom I used to lust afterDiana Beale (Art)"Smiler" Marshall (Physics)"Andy" Capps (Biology and badminton) -- truly a gifted teacherMr Sykes (Violin) -- used to bribe us to learn a piece by offering "a packet of spice" as a rewardMr Pidd (Maths) who was cruelly victimized by a few thugs in my class"Custard" a student maths teacher with a very wide mouth, hence his nickname. Nice, obliging lad."Sister" Edwards, the camp priest.I can remember more faces and voices than names. But no doubt some more will come back to me.I remember my teachers with great affection. They knew their subject, they enjoyed teaching, and they seemed to like kids. Can't ask for more, really. So many great characters there. I feel really sad that St Mick's has now fallen into dereliction. It was the model of a grammar school offering a golden opportunity to poor but bright boys who were capable of benefiting from a first-class education.I had great laughs there and learnt a lot.    

[Quisutdeus]

Roger Green was the French teacher.

[Leodian]

I like the nicknames of the teachers.