It is 50 years since I became a pupil at Rhyl Grammar School and with so much current thought and discussion about the quality of schools, teachers, and the future of Education in general, it seems appropriate to consider my own education and of course the school in which that education was given.
It would be a wonderfully ideal situation if everyone, in all schools, during the subsequent 50 years remembered his or her school days with as much joy and gratitude as I feel for my years at Rhyl Grammar School, but it is my belief that at least the majority of my contemporaries must have similar memories and feelings about our time in school.
We were fortunate to have a particularly fine headmaster, RB Evans, who had truly dedicated members of staff who imparted the highest level of real education in all subjects. Added to this, school life was fun, becoming even more so as we became the senior pupils of the school. In addition to academic aspects, pranks and romances (by no means confined to the pupil community – staff contributions were much in evidence) could provide material for several volumes.
Perhaps not appreciating it at the time, but the ensuing years have proved an invaluable foundation, which in whatever individual way, was to last for life. We “belonged”. As a music student in my final year, I did teaching practice at Rhyl Grammar School and had the added enlightenment of seeing life within the walls of the staff room. I have never ceased to be grateful for the invaluable help and advice I was given during that year. I personally owe much to so many of the staff as well as the camaraderie of my contemporaries in the classroom, or as a 6th former around the library table in its hallowed environment.
Postscript: In 1954 juts after the end of the ‘O’ and ‘A’ level examinations, someone converted (in gloss paint unknowingly supplied by my father) the IN and OUT on the entrance pillars in Grange Road to GIN and STOUT. I never did know who did it – this was probably planned to that when we were questioned by the headmaster, we could truthfully say, “I don’t know Sir”……
A few personal memories of some of the Staff
Alec Boswell (English) returned one of my 6th form English essays having written in the margin a remark whish has remained happily with me for 45 years. In the essay I had obviously referred to guns but had spelt the word “cannon” wrongly, writing “canon” instead. In the margin alongside my error was written in large red letters, “Ecclesiastical Big Guns??”. Over the years in my capacity as an organist, particularly for a University Church in California, there have been many occasions when the ecclesiastical type of Canon visited and I felt the need to explain why I appeared to be grinning at nothing!
George Evans (Maths) – the academic gowns worn by the staff ranged in appearance from pristine to varying stages of decay, but that worn by George Evans was the tattiest and grubbiest……the main reason for its dilapidated state was that he had torn the two front edges and knotted the ends to make “board dusters”. Having given us mental arithmetic problems to work out, he busily scribbled the sums in the bottom corner of the board then surreptitiously rubbed out the answers, no doubt blissfully thinking that we had no idea of what he was doing.
Stanley Jones (Geography) embellished the geographical facts imparted in the lessons by stories of how during the 1st World War he had buried tins of corned beef in the trenches, and then miraculously in the 2nd World War, his son had found the location and had dug them up.
“Ozzie” Owen (Woodwork) always played hockey wearing his very battered trilby hat. We all reckoned he could not hit a ball unless the hat was on his head.
Bill Rees (Geography) could play the piano in a way that I always envied – he played for many school dances and for a waltz, his main tour de force was “The Bells of St Mary’s” performed with great energy, swing and jazzy improvisations.
Penri Williams (Music) once reduced the whole school to hysterics in Morning Assembly. The previous evening some of the 6th Form threaded toilet paper through the strings of the piano, so when Penri Williams attempted to play an enthusiastic introduction for the hymn, there was nothing but dull thuds. The piano was an upright one on the stage so everyone had an excellent view of Penri opening the lid of the piano and, with great aplomb and sense of performance, pulling out lengths of toilet paper. The culprits at the back of the hall stuffed handkerchiefs into their mouths. The Headmaster was more angry with Penri Williams than with the pupils!
A Tribute by Ann Teasdale (1947 – 1954)
It is 50 years since I became a pupil at Rhyl Grammar School and with so much current thought and discussion about the quality of schools, teachers, and the future of Education in general, it seems appropriate to consider my own education and of course the school in which that education was given.
It would be a wonderfully ideal situation if everyone, in all schools, during the subsequent 50 years remembered his or her school days with as much joy and gratitude as I feel for my years at Rhyl Grammar School, but it is my belief that at least the majority of my contemporaries must have similar memories and feelings about our time in school.
We were fortunate to have a particularly fine headmaster, RB Evans, who had truly dedicated members of staff who imparted the highest level of real education in all subjects. Added to this, school life was fun, becoming even more so as we became the senior pupils of the school. In addition to academic aspects, pranks and romances (by no means confined to the pupil community – staff contributions were much in evidence) could provide material for several volumes.
Perhaps not appreciating it at the time, but the ensuing years have proved an invaluable foundation, which in whatever individual way, was to last for life. We “belonged”. As a music student in my final year, I did teaching practice at Rhyl Grammar School and had the added enlightenment of seeing life within the walls of the staff room. I have never ceased to be grateful for the invaluable help and advice I was given during that year. I personally owe much to so many of the staff as well as the camaraderie of my contemporaries in the classroom, or as a 6th former around the library table in its hallowed environment.
Postscript: In 1954 juts after the end of the ‘O’ and ‘A’ level examinations, someone converted (in gloss paint unknowingly supplied by my father) the IN and OUT on the entrance pillars in Grange Road to GIN and STOUT. I never did know who did it – this was probably planned to that when we were questioned by the headmaster, we could truthfully say, “I don’t know Sir”……
A few personal memories of some of the Staff
Alec Boswell (English) returned one of my 6th form English essays having written in the margin a remark whish has remained happily with me for 45 years. In the essay I had obviously referred to guns but had spelt the word “cannon” wrongly, writing “canon” instead. In the margin alongside my error was written in large red letters, “Ecclesiastical Big Guns??”. Over the years in my capacity as an organist, particularly for a University Church in California, there have been many occasions when the ecclesiastical type of Canon visited and I felt the need to explain why I appeared to be grinning at nothing!
George Evans (Maths) – the academic gowns worn by the staff ranged in appearance from pristine to varying stages of decay, but that worn by George Evans was the tattiest and grubbiest……the main reason for its dilapidated state was that he had torn the two front edges and knotted the ends to make “board dusters”. Having given us mental arithmetic problems to work out, he busily scribbled the sums in the bottom corner of the board then surreptitiously rubbed out the answers, no doubt blissfully thinking that we had no idea of what he was doing.
Stanley Jones (Geography) embellished the geographical facts imparted in the lessons by stories of how during the 1st World War he had buried tins of corned beef in the trenches, and then miraculously in the 2nd World War, his son had found the location and had dug them up.
“Ozzie” Owen (Woodwork) always played hockey wearing his very battered trilby hat. We all reckoned he could not hit a ball unless the hat was on his head.
Bill Rees (Geography) could play the piano in a way that I always envied – he played for many school dances and for a waltz, his main tour de force was “The Bells of St Mary’s” performed with great energy, swing and jazzy improvisations.
Penri Williams (Music) once reduced the whole school to hysterics in Morning Assembly. The previous evening some of the 6th Form threaded toilet paper through the strings of the piano, so when Penri Williams attempted to play an enthusiastic introduction for the hymn, there was nothing but dull thuds. The piano was an upright one on the stage so everyone had an excellent view of Penri opening the lid of the piano and, with great aplomb and sense of performance, pulling out lengths of toilet paper. The culprits at the back of the hall stuffed handkerchiefs into their mouths. The Headmaster was more angry with Penri Williams than with the pupils!
THE COMBAT
(With apologies to Lord Tennyson)
A Parody Written for the School Eisteddfod in 1953, in honour of the
Girls’ Hockey XI in a match against the Boys’ XI.
“Wham the ball! Wham the ball! Wham the ball through them!” Regardless of grammar, Yelled “Swot” to the forwards. “Onward the Bold Brigade! Charge for the dames”, he said; Into that frail defence Tore “Beefy” forwards.
Rock-like the damsels fair, With courage deep and rare, Spirit of “Do and Dare”, Stood their ground nobly. Theirs was a hero’s task, No quarter did they ask, Valour, force could not mask; Down towards that yawning goal Rushed the boys boldly.
Sticks to the right of them, Sticks to the left of them Threatened and slaughtered; Attacked with both stick and ball, Heartened, they heard the call From Joan, so brave, though small, “Forward! That goal must fall” – Never a one faltered.
Flashed all those weary eyes, Slowly the wounded rise, Peering – search for distant goal, Haven, far as Arctic Pole, while All the school wondered: Plunged through the mud and slime, Brief moment – all sublime. “Shoot!” shouts the half-back line, Heedful of precious time – “Someone” has blundered. Then they reeled back – a line Sadly sundered.
Sticks to the right of them, Sticks to the left of them, Sticks behind them, Menaced and harassed; Jeered at whene’er they fell, Honour they would not sell, They that had fought so well, Conquered, though not subdued, Limped painfully, the tale to tell. After ten goals were scored They were “embarrassed”.
When can their glory fade? O that brave charge they made! Courage ne’er riven! Honour the game they played! Honour the price they paid, Noble eleven!
Ann Green