(Credit Susan nee Gates Dominy) I was in the same form at the school for the entire time I was there (from 1961 - 1965). There were a dozen children of assorted ages and nationalities: Serpil from Turkey and John Kumantarakis from Greece among others. I think English, Italian and French were the only subjects I was taught for all four years - I am not sure I actually went to a maths class after the first year. During the last year I spent a great deal of time supervising little kids and not much time being taught anything. It is hardly surprising that I remember little about any of the teachers - certainly none that taught any core subjects.
There was Lulu Bench, a wonderful cockney lady, who taught us cookery for a little while. Her husband, Bill, was a giant of a man who had a pair of miniature dachshunds that totally ruled his life. Lulu was an avid animal advocate and used to yell at locals who beat their poor old bag-of-bones donkeys up the hill where she lived (Via Oratzio). On one memorable occasion she got the whip away from one hapless man and gave him a good thrashing.
Freddy Andrew's father taught us ballroom dancing for a term or two. He had a broad Glaswegian accent and a limp. It was mostly girls dancing with girls and boys hanging around the edges wide-eyed with horror at the prospect of being pulled in to participate. I am not sure we got beyond waltzing before he gave up.
There was a rather sour faced old lady (she was probably 23 or 24) who taught us music among other things. I disliked her intensely and the feeling was heartily reciprocated. I don't know what I did to provoke her into whacking me over the knuckles with the THIN edge of a ruler, but I probably deserved it. I took my bruised hand home and my father went nuts. Mr. Brotherton appeared at the house that evening and Miss Sourface had gone by the end of the week. I didn't know whether to gloat or hide my face in shame for having been responsible for her dismissal. It was years later I learned that the incident had been used as an excuse to send her back to U.K. Apparently she had become a bit of an embarrassment to the British contingent - not a good representative of how a proper young lady should behave - turns out the girl knew how to party!
It turns out I was not the only one this teacher took a ruler swing at. In my case she missed. In Susans case she scored. See the other incident http://rafchildrensschoolnaples.blogspot.com/2010/03/american-iincident.html
ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteOUt of the frying pan, into the fire. I was at RAF from 1964-6. My sister, 7, and I, almost 9, started together in Miss Haigh's Middle School. She was a terrifying teacher, stern and critical, and universally disliked, but did not wield the ruler - corporal punishment was reserved for the headmaster, Mr. Tomlinson, a kindly man of about 40 who preferred one whack of the cricket bat to a naughty boy's behind, and that only twice that I can remember. We can still sing the songs Miss Haigh taught us - 'Who Killed Cock Robin' and one about Sweeney Todd - imagine that - and I played in her recorder ensemble. Mr. Tomlinson too probably quaked at the sight of her.
ReplyDelete