Greetings Noble Sir

by Nigel Flaxton

  ‘Michael - where is Barry? He was sitting beside you this morning. Where is he now, do you know?’

  ‘Er, no Sir,’ Michael replied, hesitatingly, and looked uncomfortable. I sensed there was a barrier of reserve between me and the class which hadn’t been there that morning. But I wasn’t yet sufficiently skilled to probe for the reason. Puzzled, I turned back to the register and went through it calling the missing numbers myself as the gaps were revealed. Then I looked up and glanced questioningly at the class again. All I could see were the tops of heads facing me from every desk as each child bent forward apparently in deep study. I shuffled some papers around on my desk, then looked hopefully at the door expecting some latecomers - and some answers. But the door remained firmly shut.

  I knew I had to begin the lesson. As soon as I made an obvious move to do so, the class leapt into life. Reading books were exchanged for Geography books with quite unusual speed and not a little clatter, and the tension relaxed. The children faced me expectantly from their seats in complete contrast to their demeanour a few minutes earlier. I launched into a chapter on coal with a show of confidence I didn’t feel inside.

  As soon as I could I gave them some written questions to answer. When they were happily working, I spoke loudly to Barbara S, whom I had recently elevated to the role of Class Monitor.

  ‘I’m going out of the room for a few moments and I am putting you in charge. Let me know the names of anyone who speaks whilst I am away,’ I said importantly. I strode quickly to Rocky’s classroom. She was moving expertly around the desks, checking work. Not for the first time I felt a twinge of envy at the way the children responded to her assured manner. Added to which she looked engagingly attractive as she leant easily over the desks with her lovely brown hair falling just slightly towards the youngster below. She looked up and moved towards me.

  ‘No, you can’t have any more of my sugar paper.’ She smiled impishly. This was a reference to the fact that I was finding it difficult to plan adequately my weekly needs of stock - paper, glue, etc., which we drew once a week from the stockroom under the sharp eye of Miss Rees. It was like getting gold out of Fort Knox, so I found it easier to sponge off Rocky.

  ‘No, for once I’m not cadging. There’s something odd about my class - quite a lot of the boys are missing and I feel that the rest of the kids know where they are, but won’t tell me.’

  ‘Oh, I know where they are - and there’s a few missing from mine as well. Look.’ Sure enough there were gaps in Rocky’s class which I hadn’t noticed because my eyes had been on her.

  ‘There’ll be some missing from most classes .this afternoon, I’ll bet. It always happens when the Rovers have a weekday match at home.’

  ‘You mean they’ve skived off to see the game?’

  ‘Oh no, they’ll be car minding.’

  ‘Car minding - where?’

  I must have looked indignant, because Rocky laughed. ‘It’s a local, tradition, gone on for years. School has to turn a blind eye. There’s not room for many cars in the Rovers’ ground, of course, so anyone who comes by car has to park it in the streets around here. So the kids work a system looking after cars while the owners are at the match. They do quite well out of it.’

  ‘But what about all the absences?’ I asked sharply. My mind turned to the very official looking absence slips which we filled in each week for the Attendance Officer to collect every Friday. ‘Surely the kids and their parents risk prosecutions, don’t they?’

  ‘Yes, theoretically. But you’ll find they’ll all bring absence notes tomorrow, but you’ll also find no one will inquire too closely into their accuracy. Don’t forget, the kids do this every Saturday when there’s a home match - and since the Rovers have been a vital part of the local scene for seventy years or more, the custom is rather well established.

  ‘I’m still surprised the Education Authority doesn’t take action. They could easily send the attendance wallah around the streets on a Wednesday afternoon.’

  ‘I thought you were a Rovers’ supporter?’ Rocky seemed determined to deflate my righteous indignation.

  ‘That’s nothing to do with it.’

  ‘Go on - that football team is life and breath to these kids. You live in a posh area of the city. You don’t know what football fervour is. You ought to see what happens when Newport play a rugby match in midweek. The town practically comes to a standstill.’

  ‘That’s all very well but. I’m still surprised that the Education Committee doesn’t....’

  ‘Go on - some of them were kids in this area once, no doubt, and others will be Rovers’ directors. Just turn a blind eye like everyone else does. That’s why your class was acting strangely. They’re wondering whether you’ll be sensible about it, or whether you’ll be one of the awkward ones.’

  ‘Ah, so some teachers don’t go along with the deception, then?’

  Rocky sighed. ‘True, but I’m bound to say they don’t get very far - and they are certainly in a minority in the schools around here.’

  ‘Which side is Mr Brand on?’

  ‘The kids’. Oh, he’ll go through the motions in assembly tomorrow, saying how some children have knocked the School’s attendance figures - but that’ll be for Miss Rees’s benefit. He won’t actually do anything about it. And if you’ll take my advice - neither will you.’

  Suddenly the door opened, and Mr Brand walked in.

  ‘Ah, there you are, Mr Flaxton. Your class was making rather a noise, I’m afraid. I’ve had a look at a few of their books. They seem rather confused about the locations of British coalfields, it seems.’

  He raised his bushy eyebrows questioningly. His gentle manner was far more devastating as a rebuke than any sharp reminder about leaving my class unattended. I blushed deeply, murmured incoherent apologies and shot through the doorway. As I sped along the playground a sudden great roar engulfed me. For a fraction of a second I paused, then hurried on as its implication penetrated. The Rovers had scored.

  There wasn’t exactly a roar as I threw open my classroom door but there was a considerable cacophony of chatter, banging and excitement.

  ‘ONE - NIL!

  An unidentifiable voice shrieked this delightful news before sudden silence descended as I burst into the room. At least half the children were on their feet. They fled to their places like bolting rabbits. I was furious.

  ‘How dare you behave like that whilst I was out of the room. You all had work to do! We’ve read the chapter together and you should all be able to answer the questions. Now I find Mr Brand has been in here because you were misbehaving, and worse still, he tells me that some of you are doing your work badly. I’m ashamed of you, Barbara.’ I turned upon the unfortunate girl. ‘Where’s your list?’ I glowered at her angrily. I knew the class had not seen me in a temper before and primly felt it might do them good to see that I had a sharp side. Barbara looked very uncomfortable. Clearly she had been doing her job under very trying conditions. She held up a page of writing.

  ‘I couldn’t get everybody who was talking. Some people spoke lots of times and I tried to put their names down every time they spoke, but I didn’t get them every time, I know.’

  I stared at the paper. There were twenty names at least. It was covered in scrawl on both sides, with extras added in between lines and vertically at the edges where she had fought to find more writing space as the tide of chaos had swept over her.

  My conscience got the better of me at this point. Why should I slate the kids for a situation which had been my fault? My error stared at me from the pathetic piece of paper in my hand. The ridiculousness of it swept aside my anger and, involuntarily, I grinned. Immediately the class relaxed, audibly. I guess they’d all been holding their breath. Suddenly, a thought hit me.

  ‘Who shouted ‘ONE - NIL?’

  Naturally no one volunteered thi
s information.

  ‘I mean....how do you know the other side hasn’t scored yet? I heard the cheer for the Rovers but you wouldn’t get a yell like that for the other side. So how do you know it isn’t one all - or even worse?’

  Looks were exchanged all round the room. Expressions changed, smiles broke out and a buzz of delight swept the class. Two boys at the front nodded hard at each other, then one made a hint of putting his hand up.

  ‘Well, George?’

  ‘The crowd groans if the other side scores, Sir, - an’ if the winder is open, like that, we can ‘ear it in ‘ere.’

  He glanced at the open window which was high up on the playground side of the room. A section, operated by cords which hung to the high window ledge, was fully open. It had certainly been closed earlier.

  ‘Ah - I see.’

  There is no doubt that the pupil-teacher relationship improved further at that moment, because in the same second another great roar burst in upon the silent classroom. Eyes widened with delight, mouths opened, male fists shot upwards, but all in mime. There was no noise at all, because they were still not sure about my attitude.

  ‘TWO - NIL, it seems,’ I said loudly. Another bust of cheering enveloped me, this time from the class. Worried that Mr.Brand might be nearby again, I quietened them quickly and returned their attention to their books. But as I moved around the room, explaining their mistakes due to my inadequate lesson, I decided to emphasize that my standpoint in this football business was going to be in line. Having got over my initial indignation, I was taking Rocky’s advice. Anyway, I had no wish to quarrel with her.

  ‘Who are the Rovers playing today, anyway?’

  ‘Everton, Sir,’ came the prompt reply from most of the boys. ‘They beat us three-two last time, so we’re out for revenge.’

  ‘It sounds as though we’re on the way to getting it,’ I said. The boys rewarded me with happy, knowing smiles.

  At registration next morning I was hard put to it to keep down the buzz of conversation. After dealing with the registers, I turned to the question of the previous day’s absences.

  ‘I hope all you lads who were missing yesterday afternoon have brought notes.’

  ‘Ere’s mine, Sir,’ said Leslie W, almost aggressively. He was a tough, thick set, red headed lad who acted as goalkeeper for the School football team despite being the youngest player. Following his lead, the other nine waved letters at me from their seats.

  ‘Alright, bring :them to my desk.’

  The lads dashed forward excitedly, plonked the letters in a pile in front of me and returned to their places. I realised the word had gone round after school yesterday that probably I was not going to be difficult about the absences. But now was the final test as far as the lads were concerned.

  ‘Thank you. I’ll read them later. I’ll just mark the fact that I’ve received notes on all your absence slips.’

  As I did so, I glanced around the room surreptitiously with my head lowered. I caught Leslie giving the thumbs up sign to someone at the back of the room. He had got the message. When I did read the messages I was not surprised to learn that most of the boys had been suddenly sick at home during the midday break. To-day a sudden virus would be the cause.

  It was my turn for playground duty at break and as I wandered around sipping my coffee, dutifully brought to me from Miss Shenton’s classroom by a monitor, I found that I was being followed by most of yesterday’s absentees from my class. They wanted to chat, it seemed, but were reticent about making the first move. I decided to help them.

  ‘What was the final score yesterday?’

  ‘Three-one to us,’ beamed Leslie.

  ‘Ah, good. Revenge is sweet, eh?

  ‘You bet, Sir.’

  ‘Tell me,’ I said after a short pause, ‘do you make much pocket money doing, you know, er, with the cars?’

  They nearly mobbed me. I was not only with them, I was even talking to them openly about it.

  ‘Coo, yeah, Sir, you can get threepence or even sixpence a time.’

  ‘We work in pairs’- an’ if yow’re good yow can get eight or ten cars to look after between yer.’

  ‘But why work in pairs - doesn’t that halve the takings? I asked.

  ‘That’s to get places. One of us finds a space an’ keeps it, an’ ‘is pal runs round the streets till ‘e finds a car lookin` for somewhere to park. Then it follers ‘im. Then when the driver gets out, ‘e asks us to look after ‘is car till the match is over.’

  ‘But why should he want you to do that? Why doesn’t he just give you a penny or twopence for helping him find a parking space?’

  ‘Ah, well, summat might ‘appen to ‘is car whilst e’s at the match,’ said someone rather mysteriously.

  ‘That’s not very likely, surely? After all, the streets around here are full of cars when there’s a match on. I can’t imagine that much could happen to them.’

  There was another pause and the boys looked at each other. Then Leslie spoke.

  ‘Ah, but some of ‘em ain’t bein’ looked after, yer see, Sir. An’ those wot ain’t, well, they can easily get scratched by somefink or uther and the drivers don’t want that, do they Sir?’

  I stared into his wide blue unblinking eyes. The conspirators’ defences were completely down as they stood behind their leader facing me. I had gone too far along the road of co-operation to turn back now.

  ‘You little tykes!’

  ‘Well, they don’t seem to mind, Sir,’ said Leslie attempting to soothe my trampled conscience, an’ anyway we never charge ‘em so much when Rovers lose, an’ when they win the drivers are so pleased they’ll pay us anyfink.’

  The lads dashed off and merged into the general melee of the playground. I grimaced as I found my coffee was cold.

  Over forty years later my sons bought very good tickets as a birthday present for me for a Rovers home match and I drove nostalgically back to the area I hadn’t visited for much of that time. I parked at some distance from the ground. I was delighted to be accosted by four hard faced boys demanding payment for looking after the car. I was amused to find they wanted a pound each and paid willingly.

  ‘There’s been inflation,’ I said to my sons, answering their quizzical looks.

  Chapter 29

  Football occupied the thoughts and actions of many of the Dayton Road boys. The School team was usually at the top of its league or thereabouts. Its performance depended upon the boys’ natural skills, nurtured in time-honoured fashion in the nearby streets and the very real training given them by Taff and Rocky. Despite his background Taff was an excellent teacher of soccer, though he propitiated the wrath of his Welsh gods on Saturday afternoons by playing himself with the odd-shaped ball.

  Rocky took games with her own class and also those of the three older women teachers. She taught a range of skills which securely underpinned Taff’s work with the teams. In each of her lessons she had the boys hard at work dribbling, passing and heading to one another, or shooting at targets painted on the air raid shelter walls in the playground.. She drove the girls equally hard learning netball and rounders skills. She had played netball for her very successful College team. Most of the children loved it because success in ball control gave them considerable satisfaction. But they were in the seventh heaven if they were selected for places in the School teams.

  Neither Wilf Brown nor I could pretend to -any such abilities in sports teaching. However we copied Taff and Rocky as best we could, trying to make up in enthusiasm what we lacked in skill. We followed the teams in all their matches, which were usually on Saturday mornings. Most schools entered teams in the various area leagues in the city, each with a devoted teacher organising and training it according to his ability. But not many schools had four lively young teachers to follow their teams and it was extremely rare for a wom
an to be on the touchline. In Rocky the Dayton Road boys had a most knowledgeable female, which they seemed to realise added much to their distinction. They responded by playing their guts out and, as a result, achieved considerable success.

  I was able to contribute one personal skill to the corporate effort - that of photography. As well as taking team photographs, which pleased the children, I also took many action shots. These delighted them even more, but they were also used by Taff and Rocky to illustrate points of the game. Woe betide the unfortunate player caught on the fringe of the action without his eye on the ball; In fact I soon realised that I had an added power on the touchlines. If yelling myself hoarse failed, I waved my camera about ostentatiously. It was amazing what reserves of energy it could summon in leaden legs.

  Occasionally shots of individual boys showed how good they were. A leap in the air to head a ball; balanced poise at the moment of impact in crossing a ball; the split second contact in a successful sliding tackle - some lads were years ahead of their age group in skills and sometimes also in mastery of the game as a whole.

  Yet in later years I looked in vain for a single name from the Dayton Road boys in the Rovers’ teams. This saddened me because it meant that the early talent which flourished so close at hand was not developed. We had no links with the Secondary School to which most of our Juniors went so I have no idea how well or otherwise they fostered football talent. That lack of liaison between education phases was all too common. In the early nineties, when in-service training of teachers was funded directly from central government, I was involved with carrying that into schools. The first event began with all the secondary teachers being introduced to their colleagues from their feeder junior schools because very few had ever met! Liaison about the curriculum was non-existent. Only with the introduction of the national curriculum and requirements of testing across the age range were those barriers broken to an extent.

  This sort of thing has been common in sport. Too often promising youngsters have needed a committed adult to find and push them - a teacher, parent, club scout, another sportsperson - and quite a lot of luck as well. There hasn’t been a systematic search of schools for likely skills and therefore over the years potential growths have been left high and dry on the shoreline because the wave of sporting interest was not strong enough to reach them.