Crappy comp in crappy redcar, the PE teacher used to have us playing football/rugby whatever the weather, some proper arctic conditions but it was okay for him as he used to drive up and down the sideline in he escort xr3i shouting out the (open 2 inches) drivers window.

I have tried to block out my school days, i went to all boys Grammar School, that had previously been a barracks and was still run like one.

We had a history teacher who was a hateful bloke, he used to speak so quickly you couldn’t write down fast enough what he was saying, and you knew there would be a test at the end, someone once raised it and he said that you should write in bullet points, when asked how much detail these bullet points should have, he replied “they should be like a girls skirt, short enough to be interesting, but long enough to cover the subject”!

We used to have a weeks Army cadet camp and a weeks “adventure training”, which i used to love, but we used to have a young Irish teacher and an older teacher that used to slope off to the pub once we’d got in our tents. I remember them coming back pissed as farts, and the irish teacher collapsing into tent to the point where his feet were stuck out, we had been chatting to a group of girls further over in the campsite, and managed to get a girl to crawl into his tent next to him, then as he awoke, she kissed and said “thanks for last night” and walked away, he was very quiet from then on in…

Was it Overchurch eddiebaby.
Secondary school was all fifth formers on heroin and threatened with being stabbed if you used the loos in morning break. Militant selling newspaper outside school gates whilst someone tied to the railings was set on fire. Careers advice in last year was how to sign on the dole. Amazing I’m such a well adjusted person really.

Slate!! Blimey, I thought I was old.

It wasn’t all deprivation – that was just The Wirral. My last 6 months of primary school were spent in Oxfordshire. Still inkwells on the desks but mechanical calculators to play with. The school even had a box of Curtas to admire and learn. ! have no idea why a bunch of 10yr olds warranted that.

Was it Overchurch eddiebaby.

No, a quiet little village just outside Chester with just a primary school (4-10 yr olds). Pretty idyllic. Woods and fields and mates who lived on farms and had mini trials bikes. Happy days.

I went to school with Greg Davies. His psychotic school teacher act is about half the truth.

Comp in Bristol. Normal stuff, alcohol, bit of smoking, setting lockers on fire, snogging.

We had the perviest male PE teacher ever, and he would come into the girls changing rooms to go through to the gym hall. I think he was sacked for it eventually. and the Head had a nervous breakdown.

did you got to school in 1847?

My parents also started on slates, probably late 1940s, so they must have still been reasonably common then.

My parents went to school in the 50s slates and ink pots were still around, yes shock horror they were still in use in the 50s.

A very very very famous Celtic player I know shagged the female PE teacher when he was in 3rd year at school in Hamilton

Another, not quite as interesting as my previous post..

When I came back to the UK, I did my A Levels in a local Grammar School. Large student base, but I made friends quickly. Anyway, in my 6th form there were a small handful of very pretty girls all studying Art, as you do.

Two girls (very pretty) met two Iranian guys very shortly after leaving thier 1st yr A Levels, then promptly whisked off to Iran.

This was ohh 84/85’ish and we never saw them again.

Then a friend of mine from back then linked them to me on FB, so I took a gander at thier timeline..

Looks like each had a bunch of kids and a pretty hard life of it by all accounts..

All of the above. I went to a Benedictine Abbey public school near Reading, suffice to say they had a big kiddy-fiddling scandal and the school is now defunct, the buildings turned into apartments. My housemaster was a disgusting specimen, we called him Flob. Thankfully I survived all that with my honour intact.

I went to school with Greg Davies. His psychotic school teacher act is about half the truth.

Was he your teacher or a fellow pupil…?

“Maggie Thatcher milk snatcher” – yep I can remember being milk monitor in the mists of time, nothing untoward at school apart from the usual physical punishments. Telling my kids a teacher once called I me a spastic & a pratt seems to shock them enough 🤔

Pupil band mate and drinking mate

The children of Brechin circa the mid-90’s had to deal with Mr. Farrell. I don’t mind naming him as he was, in hindsight, a massive paedo.

When the teachers were out of class (he was the head) he used to stand behind the kids and fondle their ears(?!). As 7/8 years olds we just thought it was a bit odd, suspect if it happened now he’d get done pretty sharpish.

Telling my kids a teacher once called I me a spastic & a pratt seems to shock them enough 🤔

Yup, I got that too. “You run like a spastic!” from the PE Teacher.
God I hated games. The school was only interested in rugby, which I was not built for. I hated doing anything I was told if I couldn’t see the point of it and there was no actual “teaching” involved – you were just sent out in the mud and rain and left to work out the rules for yourself.
“Peep!” The whistle blows again. What can it be this time? “You were standing forward of the school giraffe when the ball was not in play and it’s a Thursday”. Oh, OK. Scrum down.
Same with running or Cross Country. Off we all go; the fit ones disappear into the distance and the likes of me hit max heart rate in 30 seconds trying to keep up, resulting in a stitch and a long walk. Did dear teacher ever explain the idea of “pacing yourself?” Did he heck. He’s in the staff room with a cup of tea.

My one was Killer Booth so must be all of them

Are we talking about a school in the middle of Chelmsford here?

All of the above. I went to a Benedictine Abbey public school near Reading, suffice to say they had a big kiddy-fiddling scandal and the school is now defunct, the buildings turned into apartments.

Douai Abbey?

Dovebiker, Shawlands academy?

Anyone ever read “Boy” by Roald Dahl?
That’s where I went… and things were similar in the 1990’s to the 1930’s

Are we talking about a school in the middle of Chelmsford here?

Yep.

Speshpaul were you one of his mates who played the music room snorkel parka game?

Two teachers both male, one liked boys one liked girls, set up a disco in the rural studies lab, blackout blinds on all windows and doors,and only the more developed lads and girls allowed in for a fee or no fee if they couldlnt afford to pay, see me next week the usual comment, strangely benny b…n, also ran a photography class at lunch times, and just like the disco the lights would fail once in the dark room, leaving the room in darkness and it had been noted that the door handle always seemed to be in a place you wouldnt expect a door handle to be.

Another school we sold hundred of pounds worth of raffle tickets, strangely the money disappeared and a teacher got a new car a few weeks latter.

I went to school with Greg Davies. His psychotic school teacher act is about half the truth.

Blimey, My boss went to Uni with him and they are very good friends, he came down to Kent for his 50th birthday last weekend.

My school life was exceedingly boring in comparison to this. Chatting to a work colleague who’s only slightly older than me (~35) revealed that at the private school he was sent to corporal punishment was still a thing. Apparently he got thumped with a cricket bat by the headmaster.

I don’t know whether I’m just a modern snowflake but he seemed quite amused by my outrage that such a thing was considered acceptable in my own lifetime.

I remember when Mr Booth retired and someone scratched his new car. He stood up in assembly and offered a reward for any information. No idea if it was deliberate or not but I genuinely think he would have killed the person responsible if he’d ever found them.

Dovebiker, Shawlands academy?

No Woodfarm – it was burnt-down just before we arrived, so it was still Portakabins and a building site when we arrived. It was also the first year where clever kids weren’t ‘streamed’ and sent to Eastwood – so academic excellence was basically O-grade woodwork and home economics. The rebuilt main block was reopened for the second year. One day, all the door locks were removed – a couple of pupils decided to break in and remove them all. The school managed to mix-up my twin brother and I for a couple of years and wondered why my brother couldn’t reach his ‘potential’ whilst I was stuck in classes with the misfits. I ended up having to do an extra year at college to get the grades to go to university.

A very very very famous Celtic player I know shagged the female PE teacher when he was in 3rd year at school in Hamilton

Frank McAvennie?

Several things:

The Games Master showering with us (as a consequence the run back to the changing rooms from the pitches was done at a far faster pace than any of the organised running).

Rugby – totally pointless. There was a kid who was twice the size of anyone else throughout the first three or four years, and he could run a sub-12 second 100m at the age of 12. Whichever team had him always won.

Cycling in the fourth and fifth year – this was unaccompanied and the way they checked that you’d done the route was through your answering a series of questions about things at various points on the route. My mate John used to just look over the teacher’s shoulder at the answer sheet when he collected the route, memorise the answers and we’d all go off and ride the local trails instead.

JP

I went to a comp in Gloucestershire in the early 80’s.

Enjoyed it and the teachers were a mixed bag. There was only one genuinely crazy teacher – taught History and used to throw board rubbers at pupils who were not paying attention.

There was the standard issue creepy games teacher who always seemed to watch kids getting changed – we ripped the piss out of one of the lads when this teacher admired his new vest and y-fronts ensemble.

There was a youngish history teacher who used to sit at the side of the desk of the most attractive girl in the class when we were writing stuff rather than listening to him.

There was a music teacher who used to pop out in the middle of every lesson for a fag – they were 40 minutes ffs.

Most of the other teachers were fairly ok although there were a lot who were just going through the motions and medicating with a couple of beers at lunchtime.. In hindsight some of them were really decent people but I did not really appreciate that at the time.

Our headmaster spent time at her majesty’s pleasure for getting too close to some of the boys on field trips. It was the yellow platform shoes get gave us a hint.

But mostly I remember playing endless football either at dinner time or 50 aside with tennis ball at break

My first proper school was in deepest, darkest Somerset. Two classrooms – big class and small class. We were ‘taught’ by the headmaster, an alcoholic WWII veteran who slept the entire afternoon. When he was awake, he encouraged activities along the lines of building hot air balloons for invertebrates, cutting up magazines to make bizarre collages along wildlife themes and once his patience ran out and the hangover kicked in, games of “…the next one who talks, gets everything on my desk thrown at him”.

This has stirred up some memories. Our head was a 5ft scrawny sadist. I had the cane a few times. He’d run across his ” study” & put all his might into trying to break your hand. The first time I had the cane he asked if I was left or right handed. I thought quickly & said left. ( I’m right handed) . He snapped the cane in the 3rd stroke. I had to go back the next day for the next 3 I couldn’t write for a fortnight 🤣 I got 12 lashes for pointing out he had a semi during one of the beatings 🙄After I left. I saw him in the street. I’m 6ft & was a full on punk at the time. I went over to the withered old fart & said ” You gave me the cane” from about 2 inches from his face. He literally shrank then scuttled off. Horrible little demon of a man 😐

Aged 8, moved to new primary school. One of those tiny village affairs, all the kids in the same room, one hideous teacher.

First experience of many was to be stabbed on the top of my head by a ballpoint pen, repeatedly, for not writing in cursive (something not taught at my previous school until the next year.

Drew blood.

My handwriting is appauling, is that surprising?

My school was were all the kids that had been expelled from other schools, or their behaviour was just too disruptive etc were sent.

Slipper, ruler, cane, flying board rubbers all pretty standard at our school. Kneeling on dice in the heads office if he was feeling particularly vindictive.

Once the deputy head who really wanted to be the head but would never make it, and nickname was ‘nazi’, was yelling and spitting inches from my face (I don’t recall what I had done), I took exception to this and headbutted him, he punched me so hard I hit the deck. He left the room and told me not to leave, I left, nothing was ever said about the incident again.

Usual, booze, smoking, petty theft, shop lifting, bullying etc. A group of lads took to breaking into petrol stations at night and nicking all the sweets and fags to sell at school. Most of the loot was stashed around the school. One of the lads always took a dump on the floor of the petrol station as a calling card.

Had a supply maths teacher who came in all bravado “not taking any shit from you lot as I’ve worked in borstals”. Challenge set. No one listened to him and played up all lesson. He only lasted a day. We got a lovely lady after that, she was so nice we didn’t give her any shit, and she stayed for months, was sad to see her go.

A creepy 5th former was caught with a much younger lad behind the bike sheds forcing him to give him a hand job. The same 5th former nick my pants (after games/swimming or something) so I gave him a beating for that. Not a lot was said about it.

To balance all that there was some great teachers and if it wasn’t for them I wouldn’t be where I am today, I’d have gone right off the rails.

Ahhh at wilthorpe junior school in Barnsley ( whoops that slipped out) Mr Middleton the pe teacher tripped one of my classmates up on purpose breaking his arm and threw another against book shelves putting him in a collar. They didn’t sack him as he was the only one that could teach pe. He did get suspended tho when he left one day in a rage and reversed into the headmaster car.

At the next school we had an English teacher who liked to touch herself while reading books. Best thing was she would sit legs akimbo on a desk during reading time. Poor Scott on the first row didn’t know where to look.

All this pails into insignificance however at one of my workplaces. It still pains me to this day that I didn’t shop the director to the police…..

Love the bit up there about cross country. A group of us used to follow the serious runners out of the school grounds, turn left and up to our mate’s house for a cup of tea, then rejoin the run on its way back into school.

did you got to school in 1847?

I’ve just had to explain to my family why I was laughing out loud…

I loved school (grammar school in N Yorks). It taught me some good lessons, like the right time to sell. I lived in the dales and used to spend a lot of spare time on a mates dairy farm. One year (my first year at the school) we found dozens of small used plastic syringes, all of which had the name “Glaxo” on them (and which in retrospect had probably contained antibiotics). We washed them in a stream and I sold them for 20p each at school. We made a tidy profit before I sold off the rest in one job lot to another kid who wanted in on the action. He was nabbed by the deputy headmaster a day later and took the blame – even got a mention in assembly. It always pays to get out at the right time 😜

stabbed on the top of my head by a ballpoint pen

We had a teacher at primary school who would shove a pen in your back if you slouched. When she slipped on some spilled glue and dislocated her shoulder, none of the pupils were sad.