Hartley Neita, ContributorI WAS A boarder at the
secondary school I attended during my teen years.
My father took me by train from our home in the country to Kingston and then by tram car to the school. He handed me over to a master, and left. It was the first time I was going to live away from home and I was frightened by my new environment.
I joined a group of about 10 country boys in the master's charge and we sat in a room while he told us about our daily routine.
RINGING OF THE BELLS
A bell would ring at 6:00 a.m. We would be escorted the first morning by a prefect to the showers for our morning bath, then return to the dormitory where we would dress for breakfast and the day's activities.
The bell rang a second time for us to get to the dining room for breakfast. We had five minutes to do so and if we were late, the doors would be locked and we would begin the day with an empty stomach. After breakfast, the bell rang again for morning prayers in the chapel.
We were all the same age and were assigned to the lowest form in the school. All day, we were programmed to different activities by the ringing of the bell. The end of each class, lunch time, sports time, supper time, home work time and, finally, bed time.
Some of us became annoyed with the regularity of the ringing of the bells, while others, like Bruce Golding and Anthony Abrahams for a few years must have been programmed to an automatic reaction from their years at the school.
RULES AND REGULATIONS
FOR EVERYTHING
For everything, there were rules and regulations. Some were not written.
The unwritten ones were those created by the bigger boys. They were the ones who organised the times and places for the rituals of initiation.
One was the 'Crowning of the Podie' which involved the placing of the 'Chimmie Pot', one of which was in each dormitory, on the heads of the new boys. Pillows would then bash the 'Podie' and the newly-crowned royal youngster was required to say in a loud voice: 'I am King of the Podie'.
One of the unwritten laws which was to be obeyed more than all the other rules, involved a lawn which was adjacent to the roadway beside the fifth and sixth form building.
We soon discovered that this plot of land was ground reserved only for the walking pleasure of these senior students and on which we, being heathens, were not allowed to tread.
Nobody warned us of it. We each discovered it by accident on the first day. It happened to be the shortcut between our dormitory and the chapel, and innocent heretics that we were, we dared to walk across it.
As we left the chapel after
praying to God to keep us safe from evil, we were ordered inside the fifth form classroom.
There, our sin was proclaimed and then we were punished. We had to stand at attention on a desk and sing God Save The King, which was our national anthem then, or the English ditty, The Ash Grove or the Scottish Danny Boy, or and this was during World War 2 the White Cliffs of Dover and the martial Over There.
We were told to address these seniors as 'Heil Mr. Jones' or 'Heil Mr. Thomas', and asked if we had a fraulein sister and if we did not we were cuffed at the back of our heads, with a similar
punishment if she was too young.
HOLY GROUND
Once we discovered that this lawn was out of bounds, we avoided it. But we could not.
Two days later as we passed by, a fifth former standing by the roadway stopped us and pointed at the lawn.
"Grub," he said. "Do you see those bits of paper on the grass?" Our answer was a meek and soft yes.
"Then, pick them up. I do not like to see litter on my lawn."
We had to walk on hallowed ground to remove the paper. Naturally, we were punished again. We also learned not to look inside the fifth or sixth-form classrooms, but in passing, one of them would shout, 'Hey Grub'. Naturally, we turned our heads at the command. Sing God Save The King, grub.
Sixty years later, I have
discovered that holy grounds were not at my school alone.
Last Wednesday, I was invited to give a talk to sixth-form students at one of our girls'
secondary schools on speech writing as an aspect of communications.
To my surprise, I discovered in a discussion following the talk, that they also had a holy ground.
I did not ask what the punishment was for heretics who defiled it. God Save The King is no more. I am sure they do not know the White Cliffs of Dover or Danny Boy.
These are not sung by Beenie Man or Elephant Man. (That's a joke girls. I am sure you like Roberta Flack, Beres Hammond and Alicia Keys.)
And it is not a boarding school, so erring students cannot be crowned with a podie.
