Extracts from "Glad Hearts Adventuring"

An extract from the memoirs of Ken MacArthur who taught at St. James’ in the 1960s:

After completing my teacher training at Loughborough, I had applied to return to or near my home in Derbyshire but had not found a post when my friend Peter who lived in Grimsby and had already secured a post at Harold Street, told me of a job going at St James’. I wrote off, was invited for interview and was successful. My first teaching post started in September ‘65.

I took digs at 2 Sackville Street and rented a garage for my Morris Minor from Mr Lloyd, the Head, and started work. As this was my first post, I did not know what to expect - except that I had been used to teaching practice and "crits" - detailed preps, post-mortems and the like.

The freedom was a shock! No head of department to work under - no schemes of work - no systems in place - for me, that was! I ran what was called the woodwork department as there was no metalwork or other "technological deviations" at that time. Technical drawing was also my responsibility. As pupils then took exams with several boards to ensure a good chance of success I had three boards in each subject - six syllabuses plus lower school ones.

After wading through mountains of preparation to get things underway, Christmas soon came around, and the art teacher, whose name I sadly forget for the moment, was leaving. Mr Lloyd came round for a word, and obviously, an economy drive.
"How is your art, Ken"? he said.
I looked a little blank but replied, "Pretty basic - I did O-level and I'm interested, but that's all".
"It's yours"! he said, and from then on I did all the woodwork, tech drawing and art until I left - 9 syllabuses - fantastic - it was not the most inspired art teaching ever but I did my best and we got some reasonable results. I will not describe the facilities - they are best left in the mists of my memory - save to say that the only worth-while piece of equipment was a pewter tankard - thick with an inch of old paint in which the paint brushes were kept. For my sins and my efforts I have it to this day; it reminds me of one non-artistic but obedient pupil with thick-rimmed glasses (? Gifford) painting Irises.

On one of my first mornings at St James’ I was walking across the yard towards my workshop when my eyes set upon a "character" in a lab coat, assessing the world and the morning with a sense of timelessness that almost seemed odd. As I approached he said in a most interested way, "Who are you"?
"Ken MacArthur" I replied, "New teacher - and you"?
"Hugh Webb - biology teacher" he replied.
"You're not new?" I said.
"Oh no! I've been around for a while"!
Little did I know then of either the significance of those words or the lifelong friendship that would develop between us.

I was invited in to see "the lab", where every aspect or facility was presented with enthusiasm. It was Hugh's personal pride and joy. It was unlike any lab I had been in before, and a cross between a lab, a museum, a zoo, a home and a Church - in fact with its high ceiling and windows and a secluded atmosphere it was a sanctuary - something which I came to accept with gladness on Hugh's invitation. I doubt if in my four years a working day went by without my setting foot in the lab. Our friendship developed and we obviously shared a "chemistry" which worked. It would be easy to describe the routine day-to-day activity of those years but it was the optional extras which tended to make life interesting.
 
 
An extract from the memoirs of Sir Patrick Cormack, M.P., pupil at St. James’ in the 1940’s and later a teacher:

My first form mistress was Miss Stevenson, a tall and kindly lady who attempted to teach French to six year olds - rather an advanced thing to do in those days. My second form mistress was Miss Macilvean, who taught art throughout the School and who was a beautiful calligrapher. She could be quite firm and forbidding but in later years I came to value her friendship and enjoy her sense of humour. She produced a nativity play, in which I was supposed to have a starring part, in 1947 but I talked too much during rehearsals and was demoted to the role of second merchant. I still have the programme somewhere.
Mr Harvey was our Headmaster, a wonderfully avuncular figure, of whom all the small boys were in considerable fear. My first personal encounter with him was when he told me that he had seen me in town the previous day and that I had not stood with my cap off as a funeral passed. I never forgot the lesson - just as I never forgot to learn the Collect for the week. We never knew which boy would be asked to recite it on a Monday morning.