291 My Story Talk 4 Brentwood School (1950-56) Part One

Talk 4 Brentwood School (1950-56) Part One

As I mentioned in the last talk, life for children and young people from Christian families tends to be pretty much dominated by what goes on at school and at church. It was certainly true for me during my years at primary school and continued to be so when I moved on to Brentwood School. Even my recreational activities, in term time at least, took place either at school or in connection with church. So in this talk and the next I’ll be concentrating on my experience at Brentwood School, and I think it will be helpful if I start by talking about:

 

The educational system in England

Just like today, children left primary school in the July of the school year in which they became eleven. But the school they moved up to depended on their academic ability, which was assessed by their performance in an examination known as ‘the scholarship’ or ‘the eleven plus’, a system which still exists in some areas today.

Only those who were successful in these exams were accepted into what were usually referred to as ‘High Schools’ or ‘Grammar Schools’. (There were no ‘Comprehensive’ schools as we know them today). Children who did not pass the eleven plus would normally go to a ‘Secondary Modern’ school where there would be little or no opportunity later to progress to academic qualifications like GCEs and A levels.

Brentwood, however, came into a different category. It was founded in 1558 as what paradoxically came to be called a public school. Many of the older schools in England come into this category. Well known examples are Eton and Harrow. They were originally called public schools because pupils could attend them regardless of their location, denomination, or family background. However, the term is misleading because, being independent of the state system, they're not actually open to all the public because they charge fees which very few can afford. So how did I come to go to Brentwood?

Gaining admission to Brentwood

It all started with a recommendation from my headmaster at primary school. I remember feeling a bit nervous as I took the eleven plus exams at primary school. I was under pressure because I was aware that so much depended on it, and because everyone was expecting me to pass because each year I had come top of the class. What I didn’t know was that the headmaster, Mr. Occomore, had had his eye on me for some time, and was about to make a recommendation that I think surprised even my parents.

Once I had passed the eleven plus, he contacted my father and suggested that, instead of applying to any of the local high schools or grammar schools, I might try to see if I could get into Brentwood School which, he felt, would offer me an even better standard of education.

To gain admission I would have to go to Brentwood and sit another exam with a view to winning a Foundation Scholarship. Unfortunately there were only six such scholarships available each year. But, after talking it through with me, my parents encouraged me to try. They were no doubt praying that if Brentwood was the best place for me, God would open the door.

And he did. In the week following the exam, Mr Allison, the headmaster at Brentwood, phoned my father and told him that they were prepared to offer me a place, even though I had not come in the first six. I had come seventh! And because Brentwood had accepted me, the Essex Education Committee would cover the cost of the fees. This was because Brentwood was on the Direct Grant List of the Ministry of Education.

Without that, my father would never have been able to afford to pay for me to go to Brentwood where I soon found myself mixing with boys some of whose parents were far wealthier than mine. I am so grateful to God that I grew up at a time when education was available to all, regardless of their family’s income.

First impressions

Life at Brentwood was very different from life at primary school. For one thing, it took much longer to get there. My primary school was only a 10-minute walk away from my home, whereas to get to Brentwood I had to walk to Hornchurch station, catch the number 66 bus into the centre of Hornchurch and then wait for the school bus to arrive. There were only two or three boys who got on at Hornchurch, but the bus picked up about 40 more as it passed through Upminster on the way to Brentwood. The journey took another half an hour to get us to school.

Unlike primary school, all the boys were in uniform. We wore a maroon-coloured cap and a grey suit accompanied by grey socks, black shoes, and a black tie. The rules on uniform were very strict and rather detailed. For example, in the first year it was compulsory to wear short trousers – something which was not uncommon in those days – whereas in the second year it was permissible to wear long trousers and a white shirt. I suppose, like most kids of today, we really couldn't see the point of these apparently trivial regulations.

On arriving at school, we all went straight into Chapel or assembly in the Memorial Hall, depending on which day of the week it was, but more of that next time. Once in class, I was initially surprised by two things. First, the classes were considerably smaller than they had been at primary school where the average class at that time numbered between 40 and 50 pupils. At Brentwood there were only 30. Another surprise was that all the teachers wore gowns. This was a tradition that reflected the fact that they were all university graduates, the majority with MA degrees from Oxford or Cambridge.

At 10.45 each morning there was a 15-minute break when we were able to go to the tuck shop, where we could buy a sticky bun for a penny and drink the third of a pint of milk provided free to all children by the government. This break was a welcome relief from the strict discipline in the classroom where the teacher could administer corporal punishment for something as trivial as not being in your seat before the teacher arrived. But that brings us on to the subject of discipline.

Discipline

I have already mentioned the strict rules about uniform, but there were other minor regulations such as not putting your hands in your pockets, not combing your hair or eating in public.

I well remember the occasion during my first week at Brentwood when I was eating an apple on the pavement outside school while I was waiting for the bus. Suddenly, who should appear but the headmaster himself who approached me and said,

Are you a new boy? And then he added,

Perhaps you don't know that at Brentwood we don't eat in the street. Are you very hungry?

To which I replied, Yes, Sir.

Well perhaps you could put it away now and save it until you get home.

Needless to say, I was very relieved that he had dealt with me so kindly, but I must confess that once I had got upstairs on the bus where the headmaster could not see me, I took the apple out of the bag and ate it.

Of course, it was unusual for the head to be dealing with such a trivial thing. Such matters were usually dealt with by praepostors, a word which comes from the Latin meaning placed ahead and which is roughly equivalent to what in most schools was called a prefect. These were boys chosen from the sixth form and were easily distinguished by the fact that they wore a special tie instead of the regulation black one. They had authority to remind boys of the school rules and to impose discipline, like setting essays for offenders to write, or giving them 100 lines, which meant writing out the same sentence 100 times.

In class, of course, discipline was maintained by the teachers. Most of them achieved this by keeping their lessons interesting, and, as someone pointed out to me when I started teaching, interest is the best form of discipline. Occasionally, however, this was backed up by putting offenders in detention, which meant doing classwork for two hours all Wednesday afternoon instead of playing cricket or football.

This happened to me once, not for breaking any rules, but for not adequately memorising what the teacher had told us to learn for our homework, or ‘prep’ as it was called at Brentwood. Another time I avoided detention by agreeing to be caned instead. It happened like this.

It was during the French lesson, and I was sitting at the back of the class. I had in my head the tune of a chorus we had been singing at church and, rather stupidly, I started to whistle it very quietly. Of course, the teacher heard it and asked who was whistling. Monsieur Jacquotet was an elderly Frenchman who was bald on top but had white woolly hair at the back and sides. But what made his appearance rather unusual was the fact that he wore pince-nez glasses, something we boys found highly amusing.

When he asked who was whistling I immediately put up my hand to confess, which, I think, anyone else in our school would have done. To which Jacko (as we somewhat disrespectfully called him) imposed my sentence:

Eh bien, Monsieur Petts, you will go in detention.

 

However, there was one problem. I was opening bat for the house cricket team and there was a match on the next day. So the team captain went to our housemaster, Lt. Col, D.J Jones, and asked him if he could get me off detention. As a result of which, M. Jacquotet agreed, provided that Col. Jones gave me the cane instead. So that afternoon, with a rather sore backside, feeling something of a hero, I went out to bat for the house team. Sadly, I was out first ball, and my heroic suffering proved in vain!

Sport

One of the things that first excited me about Brentwood was the wonderful facilities on campus – though ‘campus’ was not a term that was used in England in those days. The school boasted the largest school playing fields in England, some 60 acres, enough space for the entire school to be out playing football or cricket at the same time. There were also tennis courts, squash courts, a fives court, two well equipped gyms and an open-air swimming pool where, in the Summer Term, we were all taught to swim.

Initially there had been one thing that had disappointed me about Brentwood. We had to go to school on Saturdays! This may have been because about 180 of the boys were boarders and the headmaster once remarked that he viewed ‘dayboys’ as ‘boarders who go home to sleep’! Something which is clearly a contradiction in terms, and I confess, we dayboys refused to take it seriously when we were told that we should wear school uniform on Sundays!

However, I soon got over my disappointment about going to school on Saturdays, as the whole afternoon on Wednesdays and Saturdays was dedicated to sporting activities, which I loved, and anyway our school holidays were longer than those in other schools – eight weeks in the summer, for example, instead of the usual six.

I enjoyed playing football and cricket and, later, rugby. I remember playing left wing for my house team and, on one occasion, scoring 7 goals while my friend John Bramble on the right wing scored another 7. This absurd result was probably because the opposing team was from one of the boarding houses which had fewer boys to choose from than the dayboy houses. This may also account for the fact that in one cricket match I took 4 wickets for the loss of only 1 run! I also played full back in our house rugby team which won the cup for three years in succession, probably because Col. Jones our housemaster was a former Welsh international and an excellent coach.

And finally, in the sixth form, I played centre half at football in the school second eleven and was hoping to be promoted to the first eleven until I badly sprained my ankle running down the stairs of the school library two at a time and was out of action until I left school at the end of that term.

Next time I’ll tell you something about the academic programme at Brentwood before sharing how my Christian faith was both tested and encouraged during my time there.