Back in 1970 it was quite normal in England that at the age of about ten you took an exam that was known as the Eleven Plus that decided what sort of school you would attend thereafter, the result being either a Grammar School or a Secondary School. I was a pretty bright kid and it was expected by my parents and teachers that I would pass the Eleven Plus with ease. That being the case I expected to go, like other boys to Southfield Grammar School which was a fairly new school in our town, it had a good reputation and a modern approach to learning and the guys I knew who went there were happy. There was another school that boys were sent to sometimes called Dunstan House, this was an independent grammar school and sometimes in a year when the number of boys expected to attend Southfield was high, a number would instead be sent to Dunstan House. This was a much more traditional school that was known to be strict although the reputation it had for teaching and results was excellent.
The day came for the results of the Eleven Plus and as it was a Saturday I was still at home when the post came. The day before we had been given a broad hint at school about who had passed and I was expecting to go to Southfield the following term. The letter arrived addressed to my father who duly opened it at breakfast time. He took it from the envelope and read it silently before passing it to my mother. She read it and smiled. He looked up and told me how pleased they both were that I had passed the exam and that I would be going to grammar school the following term. I was pleased and started to talk about some of the things I knew of Southfield, my father held up his hand for silence and told me that I would not be attending Southfield but that he had written to the Education Department stating that if any boys were to attend Dunstan House the following year, he would like me to be one of them. There was a need for this to be the case and that was where I was going. I was stunned. I could not believe that he had done this without saying anything or asking me. I had so looked forward to going to Southfield and now I wasn't going and it was likely that most of my friends were. I suddenly remembered to my horror that the uniform at Dunstan House for the first three years included short trousers. Following a major battle with my parents I had been allowed my first long trousers during the previous winter and now I was going to have to go back to shorts at school. To say it ruined my day and weekend was an understatement. I talked with my friends and fortunately one other was going to Dunstan House and he like me was pretty fed up. No amount of pleading with my parents would even get them to think about changing their mind about the school and in the end I gave up.
The days passed quickly as the last term at my old school drew to a close. An invitation arrived from Dunstan House to an open evening for parents and new boys to look at the school and meet some of the teachers. We went along. Seated in the hall, we heard the Headmaster talk of the school and the standards expected and that only the best was good enough as an effort. We were left in no doubt that standards were high, there would be weekly tests in all academic subjects and that was everything except games and art which amounted to three periods a week between them with an extra compulsory games session during one of the lunchtimes. Rules would be enforced and misbehaviour would be dealt with severely he assured our parents while making every boy in the hall feel very uncomfortable. Booklets of rules and uniform lists were distributed and there was an opportunity to tour the school. Most of the classrooms looked like pretty severe places with huge blackboards and a raised platform for the teachers desk in front of it. All the teachers we met were men, all were wearing gowns and most seemed pretty stern. The compulsory subjects in the first two years included Latin and Greek with an expectation that at least one of these would continue to O Level. We saw the gym and the sports master was telling one boy looking round who was slightly overweight that he would lose his excess by Christmas and would have compulsory extra running to ensure this, what sort of place was this I wondered.
Back at home I looked at the uniform list, the supplier of the uniform was detailed and for some items an alternative was listed. The dreaded shorts were there, at least two pairs of grey shorts to be no longer than three inches above the knee with grey knee length socks with the blue and black school colours woven into the tops which were to be worn with black laced shoes, if alternatively sandals were worn during the summer, grey ankle socks were to be worn, could this get any worse? It did, a cap was to be worn by boys wearing short trousers when off school premises and in uniform, boys in long trousers still needed one but did not have to wear it so often. The sports kit included a pair of thin white cotton shorts with an elasticated waist and a white vest for general use and also a pair of black rugby shorts and a rugby top in school colours was compulsory. Trainers were banned in favour of plain white plimsolls that were for all uses except rugby for which boots were required. Soap and a black towel was required for showers after class but, and at the time I couldn't work out why, swimming trunks were not required for swimming.
I turned to look at the rules. They were detailed and clear. Basically exemplary behaviour and hard work were required and there would be a consequence if this was not the case. The "ordinary" means of correction, as it was described, was the cane and the booklet went on to explain that this in fact meant that up to twelve strokes of the cane might be administered to the clothed or bared buttocks of the miscreant boy. A serious matter would be dealt with by the Headmaster personally and if the 'ordinary' means of correction failed to be effective then the likely consequence of misbehaviour would be expulsion without a further warning. I nearly choked when I read this. No wonder the school had a reputation for being strict, how much worse could all of this get, short trousers, learning Latin and it seemed like a caning for the most mild misbehaviour. I had never been caned, my father had a tawse that he used on my older brother and me when he deemed it necessary and that used to sting. How much worse would the cane be?
On the first day of the summer holidays my mother decided that we would go shopping for my new uniform. I wasn't looking forward to this one bit and for all a few weeks had passed by, I didn't feel any better about Dunstan House. Leaving my old school had been hard and Tim Adams, the other boy going to Dunstan House and I had felt pretty miserable as everyone else enthused about Southfield which seemed no where near as strict and while there was some mention of the cane in the rules, it was almost never used. We got to the school outfitters and my mother produced the list. An assistant came across and he started to get out the various bits of the uniform. Both my mother and the and the assistant were most insistent that I should try everything on. It was a busy day in the shop and there was a big queue for the fitting rooms. To my horror it was suggested that it was quite normal as we were some distance from the front of the shop that I should change into things there. The assistant went on to say that the fitting rooms were reserved for sixth form boys at this time and that "little boys", said in a particularly sneering fashion, should not be embarrassed to change in front of the staff or other mothers. I looked around and other boys were being forced to do the same thing. I was made to try on at least four pairs of white shorts and three pairs of rugby shorts before my mother and the assistant were satisfied, I just felt totally humiliated. Finally the moment of absolute horror arrived when I had to start trying on the grey worsted shorts. I must have tried on ten pairs but none seemed such a good fit. At least they were pretty long in the legs and with luck, I would only have four inches of exposed knee showing between them and my socks. My mother and the assistant agreed that none of the shorts were suitable and so my mother decided that we would look in Marks & Spencer's as we were going there anyway for the shirts. Leaving the school outfitters I heaved a sigh of relief, at least I would not have to go through the ritual of trying things on in Marks & Spencer's. They had the shirts and lots of shorts and my mother chose what she believed to be the right ones, she continued to look before picking up two additional pairs of shorts, one green and one fawn. Telling me that these would be nice for the holidays she swept to the cash desk and paid for everything. I was horrified, she surely wasn't going to expect me to wear shorts again other than on school days.
Arriving home, I was sent to try on the grey shorts, at least I was allowed to do that in private. I was shocked, they were much shorter than the ones I had tried on in the school outfitters, they were a good six inches above my knees. I went to show my mother, protesting that they were too short. She dismissed this stating that they were fine and it would be good for me to have more air at my legs and she might even shorten them some more. She told me to go and try on the other colours that she had bought me and decide which pair I would like to wear for the rest of the day. At this I exploded and told her that it was bad enough that I was being made to go to that awful school and to have to wear short trousers, I was not trying the other ones on and that she should take then back as I would not be wearing them today or any other day. She looked me up and down and said she thought I would change my mind before the day was out.
I guessed I would be in trouble when my father got home. He had suggested that I ought to buck up my ideas and start to look forward to going to Dunstan House as I would be there for seven years and it was a long time to be miserable – but that even if I was miserable every single day I would still be going. He arrived home and I was out in the garden but I saw my mother talking to him through the window. I was not many minutes until I was summoned to the dining room which was where he always dealt with my brother and I when we were in trouble. There was a table in the middle of the room and over to one side of the fireplace he had a desk which he used for bits of paper work and paying bills, in the desk drawer was the tawse.
On the desk was lying the green pair of shorts, beside them my two pairs of long trousers that had been in my room, I was still wearing the other pair. I was lectured about my behaviour that day and told that my mother had decided that I should wear short trousers from then on and that therefore I would be as of this evening and there would be no consideration of my having long trousers again until I was old enough to wear then at school, and at that point the matter would be considered, I should assume nothing. I was furious but did not dare show it. I was ordered to remove my trousers and fold them and place them with the others on the desk, they would, I was told be sent to a charity shop the following day. Standing, in my underpants I felt humiliated, not for the first time that day. My father continued to lecture me about my attitude and behaviour before finally opening the centre drawer of the desk. I knew what was coming, that was where he kept the tawse. I didn't know the significance of it at the time, but it was a Lochgelly XH, it had been a present to him from his older brother who was a teacher in Edinburgh, he had ready access to a supplier and as he knew their value in correcting the behaviour of a troublesome boy he had been only too happy to make a gift of one to my father. The tawse was tan in colour, about sixty centimetres long, four wide, splitting into two tails and about one thick, when he held it out, it remained horizontal it was so stiff. He normally gave it on our bottoms over underpants and usually four stinging strokes. He looked me up and down before awarding me a more severe beating, I was to have six strokes and was to drop my underpants. There was no point in arguing. I pulled down my underpants and bent over the table. My father took up position. There was a swish and a loud crack as the leather made contact with my bare bottom and less than a second later a major sting. The tawse cracked again so hard that I jumped, my bottom was burning and my father was certainly not holding back. The third stroke landed differently, lower down and with the fourth he demonstrated his expertise of landing both tails a couple of inches apart between my cheeks stinging the most tender flesh. My tears were flowing. The fifth and sixth strokes seared across my bottom and I wanted to cry out in pain but stopped myself.
He ordered me to stand up which I did, I was told to pull up my underpants and put on the green shorts which I did. I stood there, tears running and my bottom stinging. The lecture continued, no doubt I had thought I was very grown up in my long trousers, well, if a few strokes of the tawse had hurt so much, perhaps I was a little boy who was better off in short trousers then people wouldn't expect me to behave like a man, would they.
The summer holidays passed quite quickly, I had o wear shorts everyday and before too long it was time for me to start at Dunstan House.