by Lisa Berry
In 1948 a bright young woman by the name of Emily Clarke was selected for a teaching vacancy at Meadowfields School. The school occupied a large old house by the sea, and had been home to countless girls and staff since it opened in 1874. The house was built in 1607, and had been in the Devine family until it was sold in 1874 to pay off family debts incurred during the Great Depression of the 1870's. It was later bought and extended by a philanthropic millionaire business man, and given to an existing school which had been looking for larger premises.
Meadowfields School motto was Ad Summa Nitamur, which when translated, means Let us Strive after Perfection... an ideal greatly esteemed by the headmistress, Miss Dorothy Anderson, by way of hard work, outdoor exercise in all weathers, and a strict code of discipline enforced by the rigorous application of corporal punishment.
The interior of the building was much the same as when it was first built, with many rooms and passageways lined with dark wood panelling, giving a feeling of gloom and oppression. Heating was still by open coal fires and solid fuel stoves in the classrooms. Ground floor passageways were stone floored, with creaking floorboards on the upper floor. Outside were extensive grounds with hockey pitches, and tennis and netball courts. There was also an open-air swimming pool.
At this time, pupil numbers were one hundred and fifty eight. At their peak before WWII, they had been as high as two hundred and fifty. However, the war had taken its toll, with numbers falling to below one hundred for the duration, and it was only by the generosity of the Governors and old girls that the school managed to weather the storm.
As well as a headmistress, the teaching staff consisted of Deputy Head, Miss Valentine, who was also a full time geography teacher, seven full-time teachers and three part-time. Four of the teachers were also housemistresses. In addition, there was a matron and her assistant, a caretaker/handyman, a cook, and several kitchen and domestic maids.
It was into this environment that the young Miss Emily Clarke came to start her teaching career. Miss Clarke had received a degree in mathematics during the war, and had gone into the Intelligence branch of the army, helping to break enemy codes. She continued this after the war but found the work tedious, and had felt the calling to help young people to build their lives, and so she applied for the vacant post of Maths Mistress at Meadowfields. Whilst at university she had represented her college at hockey and tennis, and this experience led to her being assigned to the position of Deputy Games Mistress at Meadowfields.
It was two o'clock on a Tuesday afternoon when the taxi bringing Emily Clarke from the station, swung in through the gates of Meadowfields School and headed up the long drive to the school itself. The rain was coming down in torrents, blown against the car windows by a howling gale coming off the sea. It wasn't until the car had almost reached the school that Emily got her first real glimpse of the buildings. She had never been to the school before; her interview for the job had been held at the home of one of the governors. Jumping from the car she ran to the front door of the building, the rain lashing across her face. She rang the doorbell and waited, huddled against the door. Eventually the door opened and Emily went inside, shortly followed by the taxi driver carrying her suitcases.
"Can I help you?" said a young woman in a white housecoat.
"I'm the new teacher, Miss Clarke."
"Oh, I didn't know we were getting one."
"Where would you like the bags, Miss?" asked the taxi driver.
"Oh, just put them down there thank you," said Emily. She reached into her handbag, took out her purse and paid him.
"Thank you Miss," he replied, and went back out into the rain.
"Where do I go now?" asked Emily.
"Er, I don't know," said the young woman, seeming somewhat perplexed.
"May I ask who you are?"
"I'm Matron's assistant."
"There must be somebody I can see. Can't you inform someone that I'm here?" demanded an increasingly frustrated Emily.
"I suppose you'd better see the Headmistress's secretary."
"And where do I find her?"
"Up the stairs; first door on the right."
"Thank you. I'll leave my cases here."
Emily ascended the stairs, wondering what sort of ramshackle establishment that she had come to. She found the door, knocked and entered.
"Yes?" said the secretary in an offhand manner, sitting at her desk.
"If it's not too much trouble, would you tell the Headmistress that Miss Clarke is here," said Emily.
"One moment."
Emily wondered if anybody here had heard of the words please and thank you, or if anyone actually knew how to smile.
The secretary, a woman in her fifties, went into see the Headmistress in her study. Returning shortly after, she announced, "The Headmistress will see you now."
Emily entered the study, a vast cavernous room, lined with wood panelling covered with portraits of various women, shelves of books, and cupboards.
"Sit down," said the Headmistress, not even looking up from her work.
How rude, thought Emily.
The Headmistress, Miss Anderson, was an autocratic woman, who as Emily was to find out soon enough, ruled the school like a dictator. She had tightly permed grey hair, wire-rimmed glasses, and was dressed in a twinset, thick plaid suit, thick stockings and black lace-up shoes.
Emily, still wearing her wet raincoat, sat down. This is a fine welcome.
Miss Anderson eventually looked up. "So, Miss Clarke, you are the new mathematics teacher. I should point out straight away that I was against your appointment."
Emily could hardly believe her ears. "In that case there isn't much point in my taking my coat off is there?"
"There is no need to be facetious, Miss Clarke. The reason I was against it is that you are not from the right background. A grammar school girl has no idea of the traditions of a school like this, and little experience of meeting the type of girls that we have here."
"I'm quite willing to learn," replied Emily.
"I'm glad to hear it. The sooner you fall into line the better. Your duties will commence first thing tomorrow morning, although term started two days ago, and I must stress that strict discipline is essential. The parents who send their daughters here, expect nothing less."
"May I ask what exactly is meant by strict discipline?"
Miss Anderson got up and went to one of the cupboards. She took out a long cardboard box and placed it on her large wooden desk. She took off the lid, and to Emily's amazement, the box was full of canes. Miss Anderson rummaged through, took one out and placed it on the desk in front of Emily.
"This is what you will use, and I expect it to be well used. The girls here are used to being caned for the smallest misdemeanour."
"I'm cane them on their hands, presumably?"
"Certainly not. The posterior is the place for a caning, and I expect you to do it vigorously," emphasised Miss Anderson.
"Yes, I see."
"I think that is all for now. My secretary will show you to your room and give you the syllabus."
"Thank you Headmistress."
Miss Anderson then went back to her paperwork and Emily was left to pick up her cane and leave.
The secretary handed the necessary documents to Emily and took her to her room. "Anything else you need to know, ask in the common room," she said, and then left.
Emily looked around at the sparsely furnished room. What have I come to? She went downstairs and collected her suitcases. Her trunk, which she had sent on ahead, was in her room; her first job was to unpack. Having done that, she took a walk round the school. As she passed one classroom, she thought she heard what sounded like the thwack of the cane. She stopped and listened. Yes, she was right; she heard the next thwack and a cry. Miss Anderson wasn't joking when she spoke about the use of the cane. She pressed on, and suddenly a bell rang, doors opened, and girls poured out into the corridor; it was the end of afternoon school. She waited until the girls had all gone, then went into the nearest classroom.
The teacher, a woman who looked as if she was nearing retirement, looked up. "Yes?" she said brusquely.
"I'm the new maths teacher, Miss Clarke," said Emily, going over and offering her hand.
The teacher refused it. "Oh yes," she said in a very offhand manner.
Emily knew that she wasn't welcome, and walked out. She decided to try her luck with Matron. She found the sanatorium and the young woman she had met earlier. "I'd like to see Matron please."
"Are you ill?" asked the woman.
"Ill? Of course I'm not ill, I've only just got here," exploded Emily, now getting to the end of her tether with all the non co-operation.
"You can't see Matron unless you're ill."
"Don't be ridiculous, I'm a member of staff," said Emily. "Where is Matron?"
"Next door, but I've been told to only let people see her when they're ill," explained the woman.
"I hardly think that can apply to staff. How long have you been here?"
"This is my first week."
"And what's your name?"
"Thomas."
"Christian name?"
"Mary."
"Alright Mary Thomas, I'm going in to see Matron. I'll see that you don't get into trouble."
Emily swept out into the corridor and next door to Matron. She knocked on the door and went in.
Matron looked up. "Who are you? How dare you come in before I've given permission."
"I'm the new maths teacher, and I've come to introduce myself," announced Emily.
"Have you no manners, coming in without my permission?" said Matron angrily.
"Manners?! Manners! I don't think anybody in this school has any manners judging by the way I've been spoken to so far," retorted Emily.
"This is a very close knit community and we prefer to keep ourselves to ourselves," said Matron.
"And how long do I have to be here before I belong to this so called close knit community?" demanded Emily.
"That depends on how you behave towards us."
"In that case I think it'll be a long time before that happens," said Emily, and then she walked out.
"Well I never! I've never been spoken to like that since I've been here," said Matron aloud, after Emily had gone.
Next, Emily headed for the staff common room. Entering, she found six members of staff, all either reading newspapers or magazines, except one who was asleep. They all looked as if they should be drawing their old age pension.
"Would somebody kindly tell me when we next eat here?" Nobody moved a muscle. "I'm new here. Where can I at least get a cup of tea?" she said in a louder voice.
Without even looking up, one person pointed to the tea making facilities in the corner of the room. Emily made herself a cup of tea and sat down. After a short while, the door opened and another teacher came in and slumped into a chair next to Emily. She was a lot younger than the rest, although older than Emily.
"That bloody shower in year two are driving me mad. They're thick as mud, the lot of them." These words were spoken by Miss Marjorie Forbes, the science teacher, who continued with, "They hardly know what a Bunsen burner is. Oh hello, you must be the new maths teacher," she said, looking at Emily.
"Yes that's right," replied Emily.
"Marjorie Forbes, how do you do," she said, extending a hand.
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