a book to make you cry with laughter as you follow the antics of 3E
It is a light hearted, part factual and often hilarious insight into school life in late 1969 early 1970. St Christopher’s United Modern School is a fictitious establishment set in a northern area of the UK. The reader is taken on a journey, as it follows a young man and his class through the trials and tribulations they encounter together, in his first year as a fully qualified art teacher.
He has been given a form group of pupils who are not the most academic, but the simplistic approaches to problem solving that the children have often leaves staff speechless, with surprising and amusing consequences.
S.C.U.M.S. takes the reader through a school year, with its traditions and events, as the staff attempt to offer a complete education to prepare 3E for the world outside the school gates.
It is moving, sensitive, witty and charming as it introduces the characters and their struggles to accomplish a status in society, by their eagerness to explore new avenues and demonstrate their ingenuity and skills.
In the staffroom, the teachers have their own set of problems and the interaction between each other highlights their views, prejudices and values.
The Wedding between two of the staff is the climax of the book with all the calamities it brings in the preparation. However the last word is a touching reminder of the reality of the simple view of life from a child who is raised in this depressed environment.
It might rekindle those childhood memories of schooldays and bring a smile to your face as you re-live some with the antics of 3E.
Excerpt
My name is Ian Brewin. I am now 66 years old and retired, yet still healthy and sane, enjoying the twilight years, which is rather surprising considering my past life.
I started my career as a teacher and my first post was in St Christopher’s United Modern School, in a depressed area of the UK. We didn’t have laptops, ipads, the internet and many of the things we take for granted today. But what we did have was tenacity, ingenuity and a great sense of humour.
After much encouragement I have decided to put my life into print, so now I’m sitting in an arm chair with a cup of coffee, pen in hand. So where do I start?
It was September 6th 1969 and my first day as a fully qualified teacher. I had just completed my probationary period. God knows, there were some days when I felt I was on probation, or rather day release for all of my sins, and my punishment was to educate and prepare this special brood for the world of work.
Every child when they first entered the school was assigned to a form teacher and placed in a class according to their ability. Pupils who did not fit the conventional guidelines were filed in a ‘special’ group category. Looking at those, ‘little cherub’s in front me that morning, I felt a category hadn’t actually been invented for them yet. After having spent the whole weekend repairing the garden fence, weeding, going backwards and forwards to the garage, trying to get a good deal on replacing my front tyre, I felt slightly lacking in the educational ‘sparkle to teach department’ myself, so maybe we were a good match.
I had already removed three drawing pins from my chair, before I had sat down. Didn’t they realise that I was a child once and these were very old tricks, I’m sure one day they would win, since there was always something new. So I just had to stay alert, but sadly that day was not really my most alert day. It was also my first day as a form teacher with this group, although I had taught them during my probationary period, so the coming year was going to prove testing if the start was anything to go by.
From the window near my desk, I could see the multi coloured trees with their browns, golden oatmeal and caramel colours, displaying nature’s ability to paint a world of beauty, even in that drab working class environment. There were days when I envied the PE teachers, who were able to take their class out into those crisp and vibrant environments.
In an effort to motivate their pupils, they would tell them the cross country runs were good for their circulation, help them grow with strong limbs, and develop healthy lungs. It didn’t fool anybody, but it looked good when printed in the school prospectus. The fourth years were the most notorious for trying to avoid this activity. The runners usually divided themselves into three groups instinctively. The smokers, who coughed and wheezed their way around the circuit, saying that there was too much smog in the atmosphere, or they suffered from Asthma. These were always guaranteed to acquire sudden bouts of breathlessness and an inability to talk without coughing after 5 minutes of running. The second group would wait in the trees until the teacher had run past, and then they headed for the nearest bus stop. At a point near to the school, just out of sight of the main buildings, they would get off. They then sprinted the final last few yards back to the changing rooms, after wiping the moisture that had accumulated on the leaves of a nearby bush, across their brows in an effort to represent the labours of their hard work.
Unfortunately, on one occasion, one boy had chosen leaves from a plant, to which he was allergic, so when he arrived at school his face was red and swollen. He was instantly plastered with calamine lotion, which gave him the appearance of a native from the Amazon Jungle, who was about to go through some form of puberty ritual. He was then made to sit in the first aid office for the rest of the morning, as pupils went past grinning at this strange powdery white adolescent... The last group, who sadly only consisted of two members, were the athletic ones who represented the school at every sporting event. The school record wasn’t exactly a glowing one, because at the last interschool football match it had finished in a fight between the mothers over who made the best orange squash at half time. Running through those magnificent avenues of colour, I would have found it easy to forget the confines of the classroom and just enjoyed what life had created naturally around me. But, I suppose, even the PE teachers must have had their ‘Wish I was in a warm classroom days!’ Maybe they envied me?
I lowered my head, then looking down at the desk, opened the crisp new register, and started the long process of the roll call of names, to ascertain who had bothered to turn up, and who had decided, that their nice warm bed was a better option on that cold autumnal day.
‘Good Morning Class 3E!’
‘Good morning Siiiiir!’ came back the reply from a sleepy, Monday morning set of disparate pupils.
’ Right let’s take the register. Abthorp?’
‘Yes Sir!’
‘Andrews?’
‘Sir it weren’t me! It were Barney!’ he said pointing to Barney.
‘No it weren’t! I was talkin' with Morry, want I Morry?’ replied Barney.
‘I wasn’t accusing you of anything, Mr Andrews; I was just asking if you were present!’
‘Yes ‘e is, but I were talking’ to Morry’ wern I?' Barney interrupted.
‘That’s right’ said Morry.
‘I wasn’t talking to you Barney’ I said.
‘I know Sir, cos I were talkin’ to Morry wern I?'
‘‘That’s right’ said Morry.
‘Morry I wasn’t asking you either.’
‘I know Sir, cos I were talking to Barney.’
Michael was just sitting back in his chair with his arms folded, listening to the conversation grinning about the confusion he had caused.
Jensen put his hand up.
‘Yes Jensen?' I asked.
‘Sir, I don’t unde’stand who was talking with who?'
‘Don’t worry; no one’s talking to you, at least not yet.’
‘That’s ok, cos I wernt listening’ he said.
I held my hand up and said in a forceful tone.
‘Can we just stop for a minute? Right, let me just continue without any interruption please. Michael Andrews are you here or not?’
By now everyone was totally puzzled about, who said what to whom, but they sat in silence.
‘Yes Sir’ he replied in staccato ‘Yeh can see I am. I’m talking to yeh ain’t I?’
‘Don’t be so precocious boy!’
‘I wouldn’t if I knew what it meant!’
‘Right Mr Andrews that’s tonight’s homework! Find out the meaning of precocious and hand it in during registration tomorrow… but see me after school for the correct spelling first.’
‘Bugger’ he whispered under his breath.
‘Sorry Mr Andrews! I didn’t quite catch that?’
‘Oh, I said to Lomax Is ‘e goin’ to Rugga?’
‘Hmmm…OK.’
Professional Reviews
Kindle Reader
This was an extremely funny book and well worth the money. It was witty, humorous,the characters were delightful and reminded me of some of the people that i used to know in my school days, it brought back a lot of those memories, i can see my friends in the children' s personalities, and the teachers, typical of my day. It was a lovely light read and i would recommend it to my friends.
