I had just marched out of the hall, my cane tucked under my arm, the children quivering with fear. In the quiet of the staffroom I reviewed my morning as a Victorian School Master.
The session had come about after I was contacted to provide an authentic Victorian Classroom experience.
About three years ago I was commissioned to write a School Room session for The Bruce Castle in Haringey. This would be a fabulous opportunity to revisit the piece.
The Bruce Castle School in Tottenham was run by the Hill family during the 19th Century (Rowland Hill gave us the Penny Black). The school was renowned for its progressive approach to discipline. Rather than using corporal punishment, The Bruce Castle School introduced a system of points and rewards which was administered by the pupils themselves. It had many supporters including Charles Dickens who is known to have visited the school.
Unfortunately The Bruce Castle is something of an exception to the rule in the period. It was only late in the reign of Queen Victoria that education became compulsory and then only for the very young. Many children found school either voluntarily or via the workhouses. With sometimes eye watering class sizes order was maintained through fear.
Having reworked the piece to incorporate references to potential punishments I have tried to communicate the importance of the credibility of the session to the school. If the children don’t buy into the experience then the experience is liable to collapse (he’s not really a teacher/he isn’t really going to cane us etc) 150 years ago it was acceptable to hurl board rubbers at pupil’s heads – 150 years is clearly a very long time! When I arrive, the school has excelled. They have a free standing white board and arranged rows of benches in their hall. There is even a lectern for the register. With my bell and my cane we have created a pop up Victorian Classroom!
Just before 9.05 I go to get the class. They are ready. We head to the hall where the boys and the girls stand in front of separate benches. The atmosphere is nervous.
“No speaking, Eyes front”.
I register the class, addressing them by surname. As I stumble through the register I am reminded of how far removed the Victorian world is from the present day.
“Sit down”.
The lesson today is divided into reading, writing and mental arithmetic. It begins however with physical drill.
Whilst researching for the original piece I discovered that quite often PE would take place in the classroom because the school didn’t have outdoor facilities. The children would take part in physical drills at their desks! We often take public parks for granted but at this time open spaces in urban areas must have been truly oases.
Drill over its into learning by repetition.
“Sit up straight! Eyes front! No slouching!”
Victims are selected.
“What is 4×5?”
Pressure can make the most intelligent child look very silly.
“What is the superlative in the passage?”
The point of this isn’t simply to intimidate or make a child feel silly. The point is to demonstrate a method of learning. This isn’t the learning of compromise this is the learning of fear – my way or the highway. if a girl hesitates on an answer its also an opportunity to reinforce attitudes towards educating young ladies with a jibe about needlework.
The lesson moves onto a writing exercise. Today as substitutes for slates we have portable whiteboards.
“Why are you writing with your left hand? You will write with your right hand”.
As School Master I maintain an unsympathetic air to the teachers and pupils and the lesson continues in silence. What rapport there is between class and instructor is cold and dangerously sharp.
“Sit up straight! Eyes front! No slouching!”
The lesson concludes with three cheers for Queen Victoria.
Afterwards there is time to discuss the experience with the class. The feedback on the session is interesting. Words like “unfair”, “shocking”, “mean” and even “rude” are used. Comparisons are made (everybody prefers their class teacher to my incarnation!). There is general relief that I am not the monster of the Victorian classroom.
Sitting in the staffroom I can’t help but smile. As the children return to their classroom and life gets back to normal there is legacy in their participation. Undoubtedly this morning’s interaction will provide context to their learning, stimulus for their writing and renewed enthusiasm for their study but you only need to listen to hear them recalling moments from the session to know that this has affected them.
It has been an unforgettable experience.
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Perhaps I’m being unfair but I believe in the value, power and legacy of high quality storytelling. It should be an immense privilege to share any kind of story with a young person particularly, as is so often the case, if your presentation is that young person’s first experience of live performance. Too often young people are under estimated and “fobbed off” by unscrupulous organisations trying to make a quick buck. Of course in this instance I have no evidence that this is the case but the idea of sending somebody with no training or experience to take up a position is scandalous. What is the impact of a poor experience on the children, the school and other creative practitioners? If a school is burned by poor delivery they may not be prepared to take a similar risk again.
