For John - Experiences and legacies of brutality

When his children (our marriage was a second one for both of us) were in their early teens my late husband John was never able to find a complete pair of socks. The boys lived with us during this time and John’s socks and other items of his clothing would disappear and reappear on occasion in his sons’ bedrooms or schoolbags. Wearing odd socks started as a necessity but became a trademark, and my mum in particular enjoyed finding interesting ‘matches’ when putting the washing away. Now the anniversaries of John’s birthday, and his death, have become ‘odd sock days’ for me and a small number of close friends. This year, on September 2^nd, on what would have been John’s 69^th birthday, I did something a little different and wore odd sandals instead; the same design but different colours – one predominantly blue and green the other including some pink and purple. I have written previously – in various outlets - about aspects of John’s and my life together. Here, again in his memory, I share one small part of his personal story.

Brought up a Catholic, John ‘left the faith’ (as did his two brothers), not least because of the brutal regime at his faith-based school; ironically his parents’ attempt to ensure his life-chances were better than theirs. We hear and read much now about abuses linked to faith and religion; including those within the Catholic Church. John’s is one such story.

Because of his birth date, John was put in for the 11+ exam a year earlier than the rest of his classmates. No one expected him to pass; rather it was a practice, for, again because of his age, he would have to get higher marks than practically every other child subject to this form of academic selection just to pass, when he took it ‘properly’. The preparation apparently helped and the second time around John won a place at the only Catholic grammar school in the area, two bus rides away from home.

Everything changed. John had enjoyed primary school remembering one of his early years’ teachers as his first-love. The grammar was a single sex school, practically all the teachers were priests and all were male. Even sex education was delivered by (supposedly) celibate men. The only women were the nurse and the ‘dinner ladies’. Corporal punishment was standard – from the hand, cane, or in the most severe cases, the tawse. The latter - a strip of leather about 1’4” thick, 3 feet long and tapered from about 3” to hand-width - was administered by the Deputy Head or the Headmaster. A whacking for misbehaving in class was a Monday morning ritual for anyone who had collected enough ‘bad marks’ in the previous week. John told me that at the end of his first term he was beaten for coming 5^th in class, as he ‘could have done better’. Subsequently, at the end of the second term he came 15^th, resulting in a further beating, and at the end of the year 23^rd.  The physical abuse, which clearly at least in John’s case (and surely it was similar for other boys), did not inspire better behaviour or improved performance was supplemented with regular public humiliation and sarcasm.

John hated, indeed, loathed his time at the school. In the 18 years we were together he spoke often (and wrote a little) about the powerlessness he felt and the abuse of power he observed. There were many examples of ‘pulling the cloth’ (hiding behind the status of The Church and those that worked within it) and John recalled one boy who was really seriously injured by the music teacher. When he got back to school after a period of recovery one of his peers said ‘must have played a bum note there’. Such dark humour is a way of coping and common also in other oppressive institutions and systems. Other cover-ups in John’s time included one boy’s broken jaw and the damaging of the sight in one eye for another child. John remained enraged and distressed about these five years of his life for the whole of the rest of it (he died in 2010) and he, and I, credited his often poor mental and physical health and well-being to, at least in part, his school experiences.  

John got into trouble more and more regularly as his grammar school career continued and remained amazed that he was not expelled for truancy, fighting, answering back and other similar behaviour. Yet, when he was told that he was a ‘waste of space’ and unlikely to pass any fifth year exams he decided to prove his teachers wrong. He still acted in the same way in the classroom and the playground but in the six months leading up to his final school summer exams (he took A’ Levels years later at a Further Education college, followed by a degree at Birmingham University) John spent every evening working in the nearby public library. He would go straight after school and once was given ‘six’ the following day for being in town in his school uniform but with no cap on. The result? He ended up passing all but one of the O’ Levels he took (eight in all I think). All except for Religious Knowledge. . . .