Poetry Readings

As you probably know already I attended a Junior Secondary school, having failed 11plus. However, this school was very progressive and we were encouraged in so many ways. I came out of that school in 1966 with 5 O Grades and 1 O Level . Now this latter was of course not a Scottish exam. My English teacher, Miss Hogarth made a special arrangement for a few chosen pupils to do Oral English at this grade. So it was that we practiced public reading, debating, story telling and poetry reading. The exam did not take place in the school but in a large hall in the city centre .

I recall the poem that I read, which I did not have to learn by  heart, so to speak, but did have to have full knowledge of the piece so that I could look up and project our voices.

The title of the poem is 'The Tract', by William Carlos Williams.  Considering the subject I now think it was a rather profound piece for a 16 year old ! My best friend recited 'The Song of the Shirt'.

Strange how these things remain so long in the memory.

On leaving that school I was was presented with a leather bound book ...'Albatross Book of Longer Poems' and both those poems are in it.

 Obviously a thoughtful Dux prize from Miss Hogarth.

It was many , many years until I read poetry again at the meetings of The Lancashire Dead Good Poets Society. You see I had kept quiet about my own writings since I started in 1965. Quite how the box of scribblings and painfully typed sheets of foolscap came to still be with me are a mystery. Obviously I hadn't wanted to leave them at home with my parents , for they were like a diary, an intimate record of my teenage years. Nobody knew of them until I joined this group .

So now I open the afore mentioned book ( a long forgotten photo falls out ! That is another story ) and type a few lines from the poem I read in those far off years.

The Tract

I will teach you my townspeople
how to perform a funeral -
for you have it over a troop
of artists -
unless one should scour the world -
you have the ground sense necessary.

See! The hearse leads.
I begin with the design for a hearse.
For Christ's sake not black -
nor white either - and not polished!

Let it be weathered - like a farm wagon -
with gilt wheels (this could be
applied fresh at small expense)
or no wheels at all:
a rough dray to drag over the ground.

Well that will whet your appetite ! I hope you have enjoyed my ramblings, Kath

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Class

This word has a few uses. We talk about...a class act...a classy outfit...having class...first class to third class... in a class of its own...and then the reference to education...being placed in a class i.e. a group of pupils usually with similar attributes, a way of sorting people out. Like that comedy sketch of old, "I know my place".

I have no idea what to write this week for at this moment I have excruciating back pain. Even sitting at this chair is very uncomfortable. Instead I'll relate a story to you that I actually remembered and told only yesterday.

At primary school my class was in a 'hut' across the road from the main school. A stove was lit each day to keep us warm. The teacher was a tyrant (I do not recall her name). She was very handy with the tawse , or skud or strap! Spelling errors brought instant, and painful, punishment. Every night we had spelling for homework and I tried diligently to always get it correct by asking my parents or using the dictionary.

I vividly recall one particular day. It transpired that Mary England had received some sort of punishment that her mother regarded as quite unnecessary. So, her mother came to the class and confronted the teacher. An absolute barney ensued with shouting, cursing...it came to blows! Mrs England was assaulted by the teacher. I guess that someone in an adjacent 'hut' sent for assistance. Things really must have escalated. The outcome I do remember. The teacher was put into a strait jacket and taken from the building! How I recall that moment! We were traumatized! Next day the class was removed to the main body of the school into the welcoming arms of a lovely, kind teacher. It was her who encouraged me to tell stories, to write and recite. Thank you Mrs White....

And thank you for reading, Kath . 

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