And now a couple of stories from my
time as Headmaster of Ibstock Junior School, 1985 – 1996.
David
After the morning whole school assembly, one of my teachers,
who taught in one of the two mobile classrooms at the back of the main school
building, grabbed my arm in the hallway as he was taking his class to the hall
for PE. After telling his class to stay in line, he stared hard at me.
“Mornin’, John.” “G’morning,” I replied.
Lowering his voice, the teacher said, “David smells. Really bad. Kids won’t
sit next to him. They say he stinks. And he does, John, he really does. To high
heaven. Smells as if he hasn’t had a bath in weeks.”
“Sit him next to the open window, then, right at the back of
the mobile.” I said. The teacher looked at me, wondering why I
wasn’t giving him my full attention. I wasn’t really thinking of anything other
than the thousand things running through my mind. Niggled that I wasn’t really
paying him enough respect, the teacher’s eyes and voice tightened. “He needs
a shower. Now. Can we give him a shower, John?” His tart question made me
put aside what was in my mind and focus on the conversation.
“Who? David? Mmmmm…….Dunno……….”
I replied, now looking the teacher right in the eye. “Don’t
think we can shower him without his mum’s permission. But, you know what? The
school nurse is in today……we got headlice in one of the classes. I’ll have a
word with her when she’s done the inspection. Let me see what she says. In the
meantime, send David to me……he can work in my office today. Make sure he brings
his books. Oh, and a pencil.”
Ten minutes later, David appeared outside my door. He
looked very scruffy and unwashed. His shoes, I noticed were different styles
and different colors. One had laces and was brown and the other black, with a
buckle. Without looking at me, he asked. “You want me, Mr. Paull? Ain’t
pinched no food. Ain’t smashed no one’s ‘ead in.” I got straight to the
point. “Hey David, I know……………come in and shut the door. I know you’re not
in trouble, but, just wanted to ask you: you had a bath recently?”
“No, Mr. Paull.” he replied. “Ain’t had one for
ages. We ain’t got no hot water. Cistern’s bust. Won’t til weather gets better
and I take off my thick vest.”
“How long have you had the thick vest on, David,” I enquired. “Oh, since wevver got bad, sir, you know.” said David, “Ages. Keeps me warm.”
“How long have you had the thick vest on, David,” I enquired. “Oh, since wevver got bad, sir, you know.” said David, “Ages. Keeps me warm.”
“OK, David,” I said, “hey, you can work with me today, ok?”
“Yessir.Ain’t in trouble, though, am I?” I reassured
him he wasn’t in trouble and he sat close to the coffee table and began to draw
the birds eggs I had put there.
At dinner time, when David went to the hall for his midday
meal, I asked the nurse to come into my office, closed the door, and told her
about David’s really bad body odor.“Oh, I can smell it,” she said, with
a giggle. “Smelled bad in here when I walked through the door.”
“Can I give him a shower and some clean clothes?” I asked.
The nurse stopped smiling and put on her stern face. “No, you need written
permission from the parents before you, school, that is, can shower a pupil. I know them. Old man
worked at the pit. Got laid off. Mum takes in washing’, I think. But, I can go
to David’s home, if you wish. I’m making a few house calls. I can drop in. I
can ask his Mum.”
A couple of days later, the nurse phoned me at school. “Nope.
No shower for David. Mum doesn’t think there’s a problem. Says he smells
alright to her. Oh, she doesn’t take in washing. You should see her house. Not
a place for other people’s washing. There’s no hot water there. Funny thing,
though. She’s got a part time job in the soap factory in Ashby.”
When I told David’s teacher that we couldn’t shower David, he
wasn’t too pleased.
About a week later, David’s teacher told me that David didn’t
show up for school that morning. During assembly, I asked the children.
“Anyone seen David around? Is he ill?” One boy put up his hand. “Sick,
Mr. Paull. David’s sicky. Ain’t been out playing at night. Mum says he’s got
belly ache.”
As was now becoming my habit, after morning assembly, when
school settled, I sometimes walked around the housing estate to check on any
kids who were ill. Today, I thought, would be a good time to go and see David
at his home and have a word with his mother about his smelly body. Perhaps, I
thought, I can convince her to give him
a bath. I told Betty, my secretary, where I was going and I walked down towards
Sunnyside Estate, a small collection of council houses built on an old National
Coal Board coal tip, long grassed over.
I smiled to myself as I saw curtains being drawn as the
neighbors spotted me walking toward David’s house. I knew everyone would want
to know what brought me, the Headmaster,
into their street. David’s front gate was hanging on a broken hinge. David’s
mum saw me through the window and beckoned me to come to the back. I walked
down the side of the house, avoiding the piles of wood, scraps, broken plant
pots, and newspaper stacked by the back
window. As I knocked on the door I
noticed a large tin bath hanging to the side. David’s mother looked quizzically
at me when she opened the door. “ ‘eadmaster, what you doin’ ‘ere? Wot ‘e
want? Nurse has been, you know. If it’s about that, David’ll have a bath as
soon as ‘e gets better. ‘e’s sick. Got the trots. Goes all the time.”
Having got all that out of her system, she sighed and then
asked: “C’mon in if you want to see him.” As I followed her through the
small kitchen, I noticed a pile of shoes lying on the floor just inside the
door. Ah, I thought, that’s why David had odd shoes on when I last saw him. Mum
was the one who had bought loads of
children’s shoes from our jumble sale. David, first thing in the morning, just
put on the ones that fitted him without checking if the shoes matched. “Want
a cuppa, ‘eadmaster?” shouted David’s mother. “Just makin’ one for us.
Want one?”
Noticing the large number of small black flies hovering over
the dirty milk bottles and cups lying in the sink put me off the thought of
having a cup of tea. “No, thanks, no, thanks.” I said, “Just had one before I left school. Where’s
David? Can I see him?”
“ ‘Course,” she said, “go in the front room.
He’s there.” I opened the door and was greeted loudly by David. “Hey,
Mr. Paull.” He was lying on an old and very worn couch. His legs were
covered by an old, dirty sack. A big black and very skinny dog was chained to
one of the couch legs. There were pages of newspapers all over the wooden
floor. I was just about to walk closer to the couch when David said,”Watch
the paper, Mr. Paull. There’s a big ’ole in the floor.” I looked down at the newspapers spread over
the floor. I bent over and lifted a couple of sheets. The floorboards were
missing and there was a large black gaping hole. David’s mum came into the room
and saw me looking down the hole. “That’s where we get us coal,” she
said. “There’s stacks of slack under this house. We need it to heat the
house and water. Got no money now for coal. Old man’s on the dole….ain’t enough
for everything we need. When we run out of coal, my feller digs down a bit and
gets a bucket full. Burns ok, really.”
I couldn’t believe what I saw and what I heard.
This house, one of many on the Sunnyside Estate, built on an
old coal tip that was now being dug up and its contents used to heat the home
of David’s family.
Shawn
“Course, Shawn, you’re supposed to be at school. You never
bring a note from your mum, do you?”
“No, Mr. Paull. Mum can’t write proper…….can’t spell.” He then said
he was helping his widowed mum. “Help her every week, Mr. Paull. Got to, ‘cos
the house is cold. She ain’t got much money, you know. She’s trying but she
can’t get a job. Don’t do nuffink wrong.”
Intriqued, I asked, “What do you do for your Mum, then?
You light the fire or something? Tell me – what do you do that prevents you
coming to school?” Shawn looked at me, scratched his head, and said,
“Can’t tell you……….Mum says I can’t tell nobody.”
“Ok, ok, won’t ask,” I said. But, a growing concern
for Shawn – and I must admit, my curiosity - got the better of me. I asked, “But
you ok if I go home with you and see your mum? Is she there when you get home?”
“Sometimes she is,“ he said. “Fink she is this arternoon.”
So, after school, we waited for the the school to empty and
then I walked Shawn to his home which was just off Ibstock’s High Street. He
took me down the side of the house to the back door. Hanging just above the
old, weathered door was a large tin
bath, typical of many of the old miners’ houses in Ibstock.
Shawn’s mum, her hair in curlers, was standing by the kitchen
sink, running her hands under the tap, when I walked into the small kitchen
with Shawn. She stared, surprised to see me. “’Ello, ‘Eadmaster. Wot you
doin’ ‘ere? Wos ‘appened? Shawn in trouble? He’s a good lad, you know. Never
does nowt wrong.” She looked at Shawn standing next to me, wide-eyed and
nervous. “Go on outside and play and let me talk to Mr. Paull. Don’t get
into no trouble, you hear me?” Shawn, relieved, ran out the kitchen door.
“No, Mum. See you, Mr. Paull.”
As Shawn closed the
back door, trying to sound and look unconcerned so I could, I thought,
help Shawn’s mum relax. “He’s not in trouble. He’s a good lad at school. I
just need to know why Shawn misses school every Wednesday morning. Does he help
you with some of the housework? He says he keeps the house warm. Does he clean
the fireplace or something?” Shawn’s mum looked down at the white tiled
floor. “No,” she said. Then she looked up at me. “Do ‘e want a
cuppa?” I smiled, touched by her generosity. I replied, “No, thank you.
But that was kind of you to ask. You want a fag?”
“Oh, yes, please,” she said. I lit up two cigarettes
and sat on the kitchen chair. “Wednesday’s coal day……………” she said,
“you know, Coop delivers around the village…..comes down the main street around
9, straight from Coop yard. Lorry’s full of coal. Shawn found some coal on the
road coming home from schoool one Wednesday. He asked if he could follow the
lorry the next Wednesday before he went to school. He brought home some coal
stuffed in his pockets.” “So, since, I give Shawn a bag and he follers the
lorry. Road’s bad. When the lorry hits the potholes, coal drops off back of
lorry. Shawn picks it up. When it gets heavy, ‘e brings it ‘ome. If we’re
quick, I can empty t’bag and he can catch up the lorry and get more coal. Keeps
us warm for a couple of days. T’ain’t pinching, you know, sir. Coal drops off
lorry. Coal’s expensive. Saves me a couple of bob.” She looked quizzically at me, checking
that I was hearing what she was saying. “Ain’t stealin’………..is it? Never
moans, you know. Told ‘e. ‘e’s a good lad.”
Taken aback and feeling a bit overwhelmed, I bit my tongue
and then heard myself say, “OK, thanks for telling me. Now I know. Good for
Shawn. He’s a good lad at school, too. He can have every Wednesday morning off.
You tell him, ok? I’ll make sure his teacher knows he will be absent.” I
paused. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“No, Headmaster” Shawn’s mum said. “But don’t tell
nobody, ok? Please don’t.”
Without
hesitating, I nodded, smiled and looked her straight in the eyes, assuring her
I wouldn’t say a word.
As I hurried back to school, I couldn’t get the conversation
out of my head. And, Shawn. What a lad. Shawn was so
concerned for his mother's well being and had come up with a perfect and
practical solution. Good for Shawn. No wonder he never did well at school. He
had too much to think about.
Throughout the winter and
early spring months, Shawn was absent every Wednesday morning.
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