SCHOOLTIME SCANDALS PART ONE: 'SNOWBALLS'...

A photo of my old school from about a year ago

As previously stated on this (and my other) blog, Christmas tends to make me sentimental for the past - to an even greater degree than usual, if such a thing is possible.  This may well be the last Christmas* my old primary school will see, being due for demolition when a new one is completed to house the pupils who temporarily inhabit it.  That perhaps requires further explanation, so allow me to indulge myself by elucidating.  (If you're a regular reader, you can skip the next two paragraphs.)

(*Actually, the 'last' Christmas was in 2013, this post having originally appeared on my other blog in 2012.)

A brand-new school has already been built to replace the old one, and the pupils are presently ensconced within its gleaming interiors.  However, another school in a nearby neighbourhood needed to be demolished before the new one could be built (due to restricted space), so the pupils from that school moved into the vacated premises of my old one, which has been renamed in the process.  When their new building is completed, the pupils will vacate my old school - which will then, sadly, be wiped from the face of the earth.  (Which happened in 2014.)

Luckily, I was able to arrange access to the old school just before it was 'pressed into temporary service' and managed to take loads of photos for posterity.  I was looking at them the other night (once more retracing the steps of my past) when, as I gazed at the corridors along which I once so casually cavorted, an incident from the long-vanished days of my childhood resurfaced in the tranquil waters of my recollection.  Allow me to share it with you now.

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In a far more innocent age than the one we now inhabit, it was once the custom (and may still be) for primary school pupils to be paired off with a partner when a class was in transit to another part of the school.  That is, if a class was going to the dinner hall, for example, pupils would be instructed to form a double column, clasp the hand of the person next to them, and proceed in an orderly fashion to their destination.

This practice was so ingrained in us from our earliest days that, eventually, whenever we were required to form an orderly line to or from any point in the school, we would automatically 'pair-off' with another pupil by saying "Take" (as if staking a claim), and then grasping their hand in our own.  Sometimes this choice was made purely from whoever was in closest proximity to us, and sometimes it would be a particular pal who was accorded the accolade.  (And vice versa.)

With that in mind (just in case it's no longer the practice in schools these days), you're now equipped to understand my motivation in the tale I am about to (finally) relate.

The first-floor corridor on which the following incident occurred

One fine day, our class was on its way to the gym hall at the other end of the building.  As was my custom (being a rather shy, introverted boy, believe it or not), I hung back and waited for the rest of the class to leave the room before then joining the trail at the tail-end.  Being without a partner, I skirted along the outside of the line of pupils, looking for someone in a similar position, when I noticed something ahead of me.  The fire doors in the middle of the corridor were open, giving the top of the door frame the appearance of a roof beam.

A peculiarity of many introverted children is that they sometimes over-compensate with uncharacteristic displays of extrovertedness, and this day was one such occasion.  As I made my way along the outside of the line, I said "Watch this" to two boys on the left of me, took a couple of hops and a jump, and hit the top of the door 'beam' on the way through.  Having 'shown off' (for the year), my attention was diverted by the boy ahead of me - BILLY McCLUSKEY - likewise being without a partner, so I automatically said "Take" and clasped his hand in line with then-current custom.

  

Unnoticed by me, however, Billy had a LEE'S 'Snowball' from the tuck-shop in his hand, which I inadvertently squashed within its clear cellophane wrapper, much to his annoyance and my surprise.  I'm sure you can see what's coming; Billy hailed the teacher's attention, proclaiming: "Please, Miss - Gordon Robson's squashed my Snowball!" (behave - it wasn't a euphemism) and proceeded to kick up a fuss about it.  I, of course, protested my innocence (of intent, if not result), but the two lads I had passed were having none of it.

View from the first-floor corridor window

You see, to them, it seemed as if I had invited them to witness my crime by saying "Watch this", and that my tagging the door 'beam' was merely a casual display of exuberance on my way to commit the dastardly deed, not the actual act I was inviting them to observe.  A good few years back, I could still remember the names of the two pupils who spoke out against me, but the passage of time has dimmed my ability to recall them now.  I've a vague idea that it may have been BILLY MONTGOMERY and ROSS CAMPBELL (who had a history of 'cliping' in order to gain the teacher's favour), but I'm not 100% certain. Apologies if it wasn't them, but I owe them for other misdemeanours anyway, so I'm not going to lose any sleep over it.  (H'mm, maybe IAN MORRIS was one of them - if only I could remember.)

The result?  I had to reimburse Billy for the cost of his confectionery, but that didn't bother me as much as the teacher not quite believing it was an accident (otherwise she'd have replaced Billy's Snowball with another one from the tuckshop for free), and the alacrity with which my accusers had leapt to 'put the boot in'.  In all truthfulness, I can honestly state that I never knew Billy was holding anything, and that my account of events is exactly how they transpired.  I can see why things looked as they did to the other two boys, but it's a perfect example of a situation not being as it seemed, despite appearances to the contrary.

So, let that be a lesson to you (and me).  Sometimes, even when you're certain, you may still be wrong.  Funny the things that stick in your memory 45 years-plus after the fact, eh?  I wonder how (or even if) Billy and the two over-enthusiastic 'witnesses' recall the event.

Anyway, that's killed a bit of time (and perhaps even your will to live). If you don't behave, I may regale you with a similar-type incident from my secondary school days.  You can't say you haven't been warned.

A photo of Billy from secondary school

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For more Schooltime Scandals, click here.