King of the classroom

I know I will be classed as a dinosaur, but the old educational systems did work. Not many children educated in the 40s and upwards to the present systems had the same problems as today's children.

After leaving Brandwood Street Infants School, I then attended White Bank, in Haslam Park. This originally had been a very large private mansion, the owners of which left it to the town, who in turn converted it to a school.

The ground floor classrooms were the original morning rooms and the drawing rooms, with large bay windows and ornate fireplaces. The only alterations carried out had been the introduction of desks.

The most famous teacher in its history was Mr Jess Morris, a king of the classroom, a legend in his own right. To see him in one of his lighter moments, entertaining the class by dressing up as a Chinaman in full costume and make-up, reciting 'The Man Who Only Had One Hair', was never to be forgotten.

On the other hand, in his classroom was a large wooden cupboard containing a large selection of canes. Long ones, short ones, thick ones, thin ones, rigid ones and flexible ones. You had the choice to take your pick.

As new boys we were informed that we had come to school to learn, and this could be achieved the easy way or the hard way, but in the end we had to learn and reach a standard. To learn the easy way would be very acceptable, but to learn the hard way would require a few adjustments.

One day he stood up from his desk and told us he had to leave the room and would be back in five minutes. We were to carry on with our work and no misbehaving. After about 10 minutes, no Mr Morris, and certain boys had started talking and walking about the room. I myself was sat on the back row of desks with a large bay window behind me. I suddenly had an impulse to turn round slowly and look behind me. There to my horror was Mr Morris, standing in the bushes looking into the classroom with a piece of paper in one hand and a pencil in the other. He was writing down the names of those running rampant.

With the revelation that I had seen him, he put his finger to his lips telling me to keep quiet. Two minutes later the classroom door began to open very slowly, giving time for those to get back to their desks before he finally entered the room. He greeted us with an apology for being late, and produced his piece of paper. Everyone on his list had their pick and received three on each hand.

We were new boys, but were caught only once; it never happened again. We got the picture after that; he could have left the room for the rest of the day knowing that all would be in order.

The following day, during class, the door opened and the father of one of the boys came in and made a beeline for Mr Morris, who was sitting at his desk. "Yesterday you caned my son and he came home crying. I am going to report you", was the outburst.

Mr Morris stood up from his desk, stretched to reach his full height and replied: "This is private property, you are trespassing, and if you do not leave these premises at once I will call the police and have you evicted; and if you ever address me again in this matter I will cane you as well." The father left, the confrontation resolved.

Over the years I have spoken to many ex-White Bank pupils and they all say the same; they are proud of their education and would not have anything changed. You were taught to behave and respect, and the occasional chastisement or sharp shock was helpful.

To quote an ex-pupil living in Canada with whom I correspond, his reflections on those days are that he learned more from Mr Morris than any other teacher.

The old ways do work, there is nothing new.