St Michael's Catholic College - Leeds

[biofichompinc]

Quisutdeus wrote: ...."Sweaty" Feetenby (Physics)"Texas Ted" Duffy (Maths)........     Mr Feetenby started a couple of years or so after me. It must have been his first teaching job. His claim to fame before arriving at St Michael's was an appearance on University Challenge. According to Wikipedia the programme began in 1962 - although the first winners are dated 1963 - so I reckon that he must have been in the first series.Duffy's pain inflicting method of choice was to pull the hair of an offender - just at the top of the ear. If you had anything like the beginnings of 'sideburns' all the better.He did not like being given anything less than a full and appropriate answer to the particular question he asked. "Four, boy? Four? FOUR? Four what? Apples? Oranges? Battleships?"    

[Derculees]

Hi ex pupils, I thought you might like to see these pics, kindly loaned by Joe, moderator of Leeds forum and of course with his ok.http://www.28dayslater.co.uk/forums/sho ... highlight=

[Quisutdeus]

@salt 'n pepperMr Feetenby always struck me as being unusually intelligent. He and Mr Marshall were the authors of a book of physics problems from which they extracted our torturous homework. I seem to recall that it was about A5 size, with a pale blue soft cardboard cover and a sans serif typeface. Mr F once (I seem to recall) had to talk to us about sex and relationships, on which occasion he lived up to his nickname. A far cry from physics. Several of the boys alleged afterwards that he had got excited in the trouser department, though as I hadn't been looking in that direction, I was unable to confirm that. Mr F also took us for religion for a time, and for some reason -- probably getting through the syllabus too quickly, or maybe that he didn't know anything about religion -- he spent a number of lessons teaching us how to solve cryptic crosswords. That's something for which I'll always owe him a large debt of gratitude. Lovely bloke."Texas Ted" was, I thought, quite a bully. He had a huge balding head which made people assume he was vastly intelligent -- which he may have been -- but his people skills seemed very poor. I remember once, when I was struggling with a problem, he stood over me and said loudly "You're not very intelligent, are you?" I would like to have replied "You're no Einstein yourself," but as I was a painfully self-conscious and diffident fifteen year-old, my ability to do so was some years in the future. He was into Aikido, as I recall, and as we were poring over our classwork, he would stroll up and down the aisles, making cute little kicks or arm movements, accompanied by tiny exclamations, such as "Ha!" or "Hup!". He was nicknamed after Texas Instruments, which was a big producer of pocket (brick-sized) calculators in those days; maybe his big head was a factor, too.@Derculees Those pictures are heartbreaking. As someone else commented, the staircases are particularly affecting. I particularly remember the one with the beautiful arches, which was very wide. Sometimes boys would be sent down to the basement to bring up a stack of textbooks to class; I can recall being there with Maggie Hall once -- another of my favourite teachers -- and there was a cool, tranquil atmosphere which I really liked. The archived report is sad too -- reminded me of the stained glass and the hands sculpture. I wonder if anyone else remembers that area in front of the vestry, with the chapel at one end and a flight of stairs at the other, leading to the dining hall and the main corridor. [Sigh] Happy days.    

[biofichompinc]

Quisutdeus wrote: ......He had a huge balding head which made people assume he was vastly intelligent -- which he may have been -- but.....     Mr Duffy had a forehead you could land an aeroplane on. But, as Randy Newman wrote.......Since I was a childI've tried to be what I'm notI've lied and I've enjoyed it all my lifeI lied to my dear motherto my sisters and my brotherand now I'm lying to my children and my wifeBig Hat, no cattleBig head, no brainBig snake, no rattleI forever remainbig hat, no cattleI knew from the startBig boat, no paddleBig belly, no heartCan't remember why I do it,Oh, maybe I can.An honest man these days is hard to find.I only know we're living in an unforgiving land.And a little lie can buy some real big piece of mind.Oftimes I wondered what might I have become,Had I but buckled down and really tried.But when it came down to the wireI called my family to my sideStood up straight, threw my head back and I lied, lied, liedBig hat, no cattleBig shoes, well you know...Big horse, no saddleHe goes wherever I goBig hat, no cattleRight from the startBig guns, no battleBig belly, no heartWhen it came down to the wireI called my little family to my sideStood up straight, threw my head back and I lied, lied, liedlied, lied, liedBig hat, no cattleBig head, no brainBig snake, no rattleI forever remainBig hat, no cattleI knew from the startBig boat, no paddleBig belly, no heartBig boat, no paddleBig belly, no heart

[Quisutdeus]

That's a brilliant lyric. Must listen to some Randy Newman. Wonder what became of Texas Ted. I saw Big Bill Brookes in the Oxfam bookshop in Headingley about a year ago. He didn't look a day older than he did in the seventies. Still seemed to be wearing the same suit and carrying the same briefcase. I didn't speak to him because I never had much of a relationship with him, and I didn't think he'd remember me.On another occasion, I saw Maggie Hall walking down the steps of Leeds City Art Gallery. Again, she hardly looked a day older. This must have been about fifteen years ago. And again, I didn't speak to her. I don't know why. Maybe I don't feel successful enough to introduce myself to former teachers. She was definitely one of my favourites, though I'm ambivalent about the life-long great literature guilt she infected me with.

[Quisutdeus]

I've never bumped into Mrs Raisin, though. Big Bill memory: He would sit at his desk and call people up one by one to read to him from the text book. One one occasion, he called me up and turned to the page he wanted. Someone had scrawled "TITS" right across both pages. I nearly exploded with trying not to laugh. He just kept telling me to read on. He didn't show the slightest flicker of emotion. There was some marker-pen grafitti on the wall outside the French room. I remember that there was sketch of Big Ben with the caption "Big Ben", and next to it a sketch of a man taller than Big Ben, with the caption "Big Bill".    

[Quisutdeus]

There was a crisp-machine at the end of the main corridor, behind that stairwell with the arches. Sold Smiths crisps for, I think, 8p a packet.Well, I must go and do some work!

[James]

Mention of Miss Veitch in this thread - or Madame Jasniewska if that's how her married name was spelled - reminded me of the first French lesson I had in her class. She told everyone to bring a mirror (for the next lesson) so they could watch themselves pulling their mouths into the right shapes for transforming Yorkshire accents into French vowels. This novelty caused a certain amount of uproar that day and the whole class wound up in detention. I ended up with a double detention because I'd forgotten to bring a mirror. I was on the wrong side of that woman ever after.I also remember Father 'Buck' Ryan as being an amiable priest but an absolutely useless teacher. I was good at Maths before I lost a lot of ground in his class which he couldn't control. The best Maths teacher in my time at St Michael's, was Mr Western.

[James]

Here's another post about St Michael's. My days there were long ago and I haven't even seen the building since the day I left. A few teachers I remember well among the Jesuits are:The Lynch brothers, Benny and Lenny. 'Filer' Collins in charge of the punishment room. Father Palmer who kept pulling his Adam's apple while saying prayers. The kind-hearted Father Maxwell.Father Skelley a good footballer who used to play in one of the Scratch Eight teams.Father Corish in the Science department who once threw a cow's eye at one of the lads in the gallery. Father 'Nobby' Clarke - another kind-hearted man.Father Leitrim who could be coaxed into a digression about London bus routes. Father Whittall with his sneering countenance who was my personal enemy. I detested him.Father Smith a sadist who should have been locked up. Father Bywater who I guess had what nowadays we might call 'gay' tendencies. And the severe Father Doyle of course who ran the place. He banished me from the sacristy (in the chapel) for setting fire to a kid's hair with my candle.Of the lay members of staff, I remember: The frightful Miss Creek with her lipstick an inch thick. Mr Western and Mr McIntyre - both excellent teachers.'Winky' Morgan a decent man who had a nervous twitch. He once awarded me one ferula and then doubled it to two when everyone laughed. 'Sire' Kerkham the Art teacher who had zero sense of humour. The likeable Mr Morris with his reputed glass eye. Mr Povey the Physics master.Miss Hall who once abandoned her class to "stew in its own juice.Two other teachers whose faces I can recall, but not their names, were the grumpy bloke in charge of the Woodwork cellar who plastered his hair down with Brilliantine, and the tall man who marched us down to Cookridge Street Baths for swimming lessons and took us on the bus to the playing fields up Otley Old Road for football and cricket.

[Quisutdeus]

All those fathers have reminded me of Father Tomlinson, a muscular Christian who played rugby. He once invited me to write an essay explaining why I didn't believe in God, and I obliged. It wasn't quite on the level of Bertrand Russell's "Why I Am Not a Christian", being a bit too influenced by Erich von Daniken. Must have cracked them up in the seminary. Perhaps it benefited me, though, as I later did a degree in philosophy.Another teacher I remember is "Finbar" Laverty. Maybe Finbar was his real name, I don't know. Although he was at the school the entire time I was there, I never knew what it was he taught.Mr Macintyre taught us history in the fourth year. Nice chap.