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My mum and dad left school at 14 years old and were determined their two sons would receive a good education; perhaps go to university. But what defines a good education?

I passed my “eleven plus” examination in elementary school and was eagerly waiting to be allocated to one of the two grammar schools in the city: Dynevor or Bishop Gore. To my horror I was posted to Penlan Comprehensive School. Opened in 1956 as a “multilateral” school, it had been redefined as a “comprehensive” school and I was one of first guinea pigs chosen to test this new system.

Transferring from the safe haven of an elementary school at the age of eleven to the daunting secondary school comprising 1500 pimply and hormone crazed schoolboys was not an easy transition. I was reasonably successful in elementary school where the main subjects taught were the “three Rs” (reading, writing and rithmetic) and I didn’t have much problem with them. Following the successful eleven plus results I was introduced to my nemesis: “geometry!” I should have known this represented the tip of the iceberg and worse was to follow.

One passing comment on my introduction to the isosceles triangle et al. My teacher, the folically challenged Mr. Watson, could not understand why I was so inept at geometry, so he pronounced me as being lazy and a big head now that I had passed the “eleven plus.” We never liked each other, and hitting him between the eyes with a lump of chalk during a classroom skirmish didn’t help foster a better relationship.

Secondary school introduced a variety of new subjects: English, English Literature, Physics, Biology, Chemistry, Geography, History, French, Welsh, Russian, Mathematics, Woodwork, Pottery, Music, Metalwork, Art, Latin, Geology, Religious Instruction (later changed to Religious Education,) and PE (physical education.)

Oh boy! Physical education also introduced me to communal showers and the thought of stripping naked in front of a bunch of strangers was appalling to me. For the next seven years I would rarely be addressed by my first name. This applied to teachers and fellow pupils. Another phenomenon was an all boy environment rather than mixed classes in elementary school. We seemed to lose touch with the female species at a crucial time when our male hormones were racing at 100mph. Maybe that’s why so much emphasis was placed on showers to cool our ardor.

At the end of our third year, at the tender age of 14-15, we were required to make a decision which would shape the rest of their lives. We had to choose between the path of the sciences or the arts. Unfortunately we didn’t have any career guidance counselors at our school and the teachers were not very helpful either. The Labor Government of the sixties made a big push into promoting science and technology, and promised there would be many jobs available in those fields. On this basis I chose the sciences despite having little talent for them and this unforced error would haunt me for the next 15 years.

In retrospect success in certain subjects was so dependent on the quality of the teacher which varied greatly in my time at Penlan, none more so than languages. I was so disillusioned with the academic world at 15 that I seriously considered leaving school and taking an apprenticeship as an electrician.

A statement made by one of the senior teachers has resonated with me practically every day of my life: “I’m not here to give you an education. I’m teaching you to pass exams!” Maybe that explains why the history teacher never arranged a field trip to the many mediaeval castles in close proximity to the school. What a wasted opportunity.

My lasting impressions of a seven year residence at Penlan Comprehensive:

• Spending endless hours in a five-storey matchbox traipsing up and down countless flights of stairs.
• Milk monitors arriving at school on horseback.
• Avoiding sadistic arts and crafts teachers
• Grunter, Toad, Crow, Taffy, Stumpy, Pip, Dayo, Skinny, Hitler, Bummer and Fifi; affectionate nicknames for some of the teachers.
• The stench emanating from the kitchens from yesterday’s leftovers and easily converted into pig swill to be picked up by the local farmer.

It’s very appropriate how the letters from “Penlan” can be rearranged into “Penal.” The school motto was “O NERTH I NERTH” which means “from strength to strength.” Little did I know that I would need all my strength to survive the traumas of Penlan Comprehensive which was mercifully put to rest in 2005.

This entry was posted on Monday, February 18th, 2013 at 5:13 pm and is filed under Absurdity, history. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.