Thought for today:
"The challenges of life is most often the best therapist to take us towards the wind of change; overcoming them is what makes life meaningful.
There will be many times in life when we find ourselves out of our depth or out on a limb. However learned I think myself to be, however many books I've written and read, when it comes to learning lessons which have lasted me for life and survival skills that have kept me going, I look towards my parents, grandparents and all the teachers of my childhood years. Indeed, I might never have reached old age had I not been blessed in times of youth to have known them all.
My mother and grandmother, whenever they dropped a slice of bread on the floor, would pick it up, scrape it clean if needs be and remind me that before I died, 'I would eat at least three stones of muck, so I may as well start now.'
Mrs Walsh was one of the strict school teachers of my youth at 'St Patrick's Catholic School', Heckmondwike. She would berate any pupil who did not put away their books in their desk at the end of the lesson. I can still clearly hear her voice, as if it was today instead of 65 years ago, 'Don't leave things lying about, you silly boy or you will trip someone up. No one trips over mountains, it is the small thing underfoot that trips one up!' If a pupil forgot, Mrs Walsh would go into a rage and throw the blackboard rubber at the offending child and would show little concern which part of your head or body it hit.
My school years were a time when all teachers were allowed to cane pupils on the palms of their hands and anyone getting 'six of the best' was always the one in the teacher/pupil war who came off worse. I recall getting caned around four or five times at junior school. The first time, I made the foolish mistake of complaining to my dad that evening as I told him what the teacher had done. I showed him my weals. Instead of missing work the next morning as I wanted him to do, and go into my school to sort out the bully teacher, dad gave me an additional punishment and said, 'You must have deserved the cane or you wouldn't have got it in the first place!' These were the days, when indeed, the word of any adult was believed before that of a child, even one's own!
In my youth, many adults still believed that all children should be seen and not heard. At Dewsbury Technical College, a physics teacher, nicknamed Tex, who caught any pupil talking, would sneak up behind them and clout them on the head with his twelve inch ruler saying, 'I only want to hear you talk boy when I ask you a question, so button it up now.' If you verbally protested, you would be hit with the ruler again before you'd finished your sentence.
Mrs Brennan was a teacher whom I greatly admired. She was a woman who knew how to get the best from all her pupils and how to encourage all abilities of any child to reach their potential. She was the one teacher whom I kept in contact with during adult life. She lived opposite Batley Park and I never passed her house without calling in for a cup of tea. Mrs Brennan naturally loved children as much as she loved education and was fortunate enough to work daily with both of her loves in life.
Mr Armitage was the Head of 'St Patrick's Catholic School' and like all heads of school, he was proud of all the school's achievements. There wasn't anything which made him prouder than if a pupil from his school passed their 11 plus examination to gain entrance to the Grammar School in either Heckmondwike or Bradford. I was a very bright scholar and in my time, the school taught a pupil in the class year of their competence and ability. At the age of 11 years I passed my grammar school examination, but because of a sense of inverted snobbery in which I viewed all the kids at grammar school to be 'toffee nosed,' I turned down the scholarship. Mr Armitage was angry when he learned of my intention to go to Dewsbury Technical College instead, and feeling that I'd let the school down, he took his revenge in a way that only a Catholic Head could have devised. Instead of leaving me with all my class mates, he moved me up two classes to be taught in the top class with the 14 and 15 year olds. Pupils had been moved up or down one class before, but never two classes! As it happened, within two months I'd incurred a serious traffic accident and was absent from school for almost three years.
By the time I eventually returned to school, I'd missed three years education and started at the Dewsbury Technical College for the final year of the two-year course. All my other class pupils had already had one year to make friends, establish enemies and readjust, so when I started term, I was the new kid on the block. Having missed so much schooling over the previous three years, I found myself being better than half the class and worse than the other half. Having been used to being the 'number one' or 'number two' pupil in class since the age of nine at my old school, my oversized ego would not now allow me to be settled somewhere in the middle!
My response was to hand in my books to the Headmaster on the day of the school Christmas Party and to start work labouring in a textile mill one month later. Instead of hanging on in there, I'd let go of the reins of education and instead, took hold of the reins of mediocrity and ran away. For the next five years I hid in a textile factory, before escaping to Canada for a few years before eventually running away from a loving romance and returning to England and textiles. I became a foreman and then a mill manager before my 26th birthday and it was only then, that I decided to stop running away and return to school to complete my education and obtain the necessary certificates to go on to college or university.
When I arrived as a Probation Officer at the age of thirty, I knew I'd found my vocation. I was now able to help people who ran away from this or that in their lives, I was able to help them stop running away and reassess their lives in the ways they wanted to change. I never found it hard working in a middle-class occupation with predominantly working-class offenders. I was working class, I had offended in my youth and until later on in life, I'd run away from this and that. It was much easier for me to work with such people, because they were my people.
As we go through the storms of life it takes guts to not give up. It takes courage to try, fail and try again. As The author, Mary Anne Radmacher reminds us, 'Courage doesn’t always roar. Sometimes courage is the little voice at the end of the day that says, I’ll try again tomorrow.'
So whatever be your trials and tribulations, whatever storm of life engulfs you in its wake, hang on to all of life's teachers, hang on to the coat tails of family members past and present, hang on to your self respect, determination and courage and you will emerge victorious. Remember that life's challenges are not meant to paralyse you; they come your way to help you discover who you are." William Forde: March 15th, 2016.
"The challenges of life is most often the best therapist to take us towards the wind of change; overcoming them is what makes life meaningful.
There will be many times in life when we find ourselves out of our depth or out on a limb. However learned I think myself to be, however many books I've written and read, when it comes to learning lessons which have lasted me for life and survival skills that have kept me going, I look towards my parents, grandparents and all the teachers of my childhood years. Indeed, I might never have reached old age had I not been blessed in times of youth to have known them all.
My mother and grandmother, whenever they dropped a slice of bread on the floor, would pick it up, scrape it clean if needs be and remind me that before I died, 'I would eat at least three stones of muck, so I may as well start now.'
Mrs Walsh was one of the strict school teachers of my youth at 'St Patrick's Catholic School', Heckmondwike. She would berate any pupil who did not put away their books in their desk at the end of the lesson. I can still clearly hear her voice, as if it was today instead of 65 years ago, 'Don't leave things lying about, you silly boy or you will trip someone up. No one trips over mountains, it is the small thing underfoot that trips one up!' If a pupil forgot, Mrs Walsh would go into a rage and throw the blackboard rubber at the offending child and would show little concern which part of your head or body it hit.
My school years were a time when all teachers were allowed to cane pupils on the palms of their hands and anyone getting 'six of the best' was always the one in the teacher/pupil war who came off worse. I recall getting caned around four or five times at junior school. The first time, I made the foolish mistake of complaining to my dad that evening as I told him what the teacher had done. I showed him my weals. Instead of missing work the next morning as I wanted him to do, and go into my school to sort out the bully teacher, dad gave me an additional punishment and said, 'You must have deserved the cane or you wouldn't have got it in the first place!' These were the days, when indeed, the word of any adult was believed before that of a child, even one's own!
In my youth, many adults still believed that all children should be seen and not heard. At Dewsbury Technical College, a physics teacher, nicknamed Tex, who caught any pupil talking, would sneak up behind them and clout them on the head with his twelve inch ruler saying, 'I only want to hear you talk boy when I ask you a question, so button it up now.' If you verbally protested, you would be hit with the ruler again before you'd finished your sentence.
Mrs Brennan was a teacher whom I greatly admired. She was a woman who knew how to get the best from all her pupils and how to encourage all abilities of any child to reach their potential. She was the one teacher whom I kept in contact with during adult life. She lived opposite Batley Park and I never passed her house without calling in for a cup of tea. Mrs Brennan naturally loved children as much as she loved education and was fortunate enough to work daily with both of her loves in life.
Mr Armitage was the Head of 'St Patrick's Catholic School' and like all heads of school, he was proud of all the school's achievements. There wasn't anything which made him prouder than if a pupil from his school passed their 11 plus examination to gain entrance to the Grammar School in either Heckmondwike or Bradford. I was a very bright scholar and in my time, the school taught a pupil in the class year of their competence and ability. At the age of 11 years I passed my grammar school examination, but because of a sense of inverted snobbery in which I viewed all the kids at grammar school to be 'toffee nosed,' I turned down the scholarship. Mr Armitage was angry when he learned of my intention to go to Dewsbury Technical College instead, and feeling that I'd let the school down, he took his revenge in a way that only a Catholic Head could have devised. Instead of leaving me with all my class mates, he moved me up two classes to be taught in the top class with the 14 and 15 year olds. Pupils had been moved up or down one class before, but never two classes! As it happened, within two months I'd incurred a serious traffic accident and was absent from school for almost three years.
By the time I eventually returned to school, I'd missed three years education and started at the Dewsbury Technical College for the final year of the two-year course. All my other class pupils had already had one year to make friends, establish enemies and readjust, so when I started term, I was the new kid on the block. Having missed so much schooling over the previous three years, I found myself being better than half the class and worse than the other half. Having been used to being the 'number one' or 'number two' pupil in class since the age of nine at my old school, my oversized ego would not now allow me to be settled somewhere in the middle!
My response was to hand in my books to the Headmaster on the day of the school Christmas Party and to start work labouring in a textile mill one month later. Instead of hanging on in there, I'd let go of the reins of education and instead, took hold of the reins of mediocrity and ran away. For the next five years I hid in a textile factory, before escaping to Canada for a few years before eventually running away from a loving romance and returning to England and textiles. I became a foreman and then a mill manager before my 26th birthday and it was only then, that I decided to stop running away and return to school to complete my education and obtain the necessary certificates to go on to college or university.
When I arrived as a Probation Officer at the age of thirty, I knew I'd found my vocation. I was now able to help people who ran away from this or that in their lives, I was able to help them stop running away and reassess their lives in the ways they wanted to change. I never found it hard working in a middle-class occupation with predominantly working-class offenders. I was working class, I had offended in my youth and until later on in life, I'd run away from this and that. It was much easier for me to work with such people, because they were my people.
As we go through the storms of life it takes guts to not give up. It takes courage to try, fail and try again. As The author, Mary Anne Radmacher reminds us, 'Courage doesn’t always roar. Sometimes courage is the little voice at the end of the day that says, I’ll try again tomorrow.'
So whatever be your trials and tribulations, whatever storm of life engulfs you in its wake, hang on to all of life's teachers, hang on to the coat tails of family members past and present, hang on to your self respect, determination and courage and you will emerge victorious. Remember that life's challenges are not meant to paralyse you; they come your way to help you discover who you are." William Forde: March 15th, 2016.
