lick here to edit.
Photo taken at St Marks school.
I am first on left bottom row.
EDUCATION, Primary schools.
The time came for me to go to school. I first went to Graisley infants before moving on to Bingley Juniors. Boy! did I hate it there!!
It was my first experience of discrimination against pupils with a disability from none other than the headmistress - Miss Careless. I came to hate her with a passion, she was always picking on me and through it, I had several seisures.
it led me to hating the idea of going to school.
Well, my mother found out what was behind my not wanting to go school by one of the parents who told mom what was going on and how I was treated. You've heard the saying: ' I wish I was a fly on the wall', well, mom stormed inthe classroom one morning, saw Miss Careless and, in front of the whole class, humiliated her, pulled me out of school, never to go back again.
This unfortunately created a problem as legally, I had to be educated. The Education dept contacted mom saying that I had to go back but, after mom explained how I was treated, nothing more was said. These were the same officials who wanted me to go to a special school for pupils with a disability - namely epilepsy. As luck would have it, mom was told of a school near by whose headmaster - Mr. Hopton - had a reputation for his gentleness. The school was St. Mark's and this school was the making of me. My seisures stopped and, I actually enjpyed going to school. I well remember the remarks Mr. Hopton said about me on my final report: 'i will miss Susan 's sunny smile next term'.
The time came for me to go to school. I first went to Graisley infants before moving on to Bingley Juniors. Boy! did I hate it there!!
It was my first experience of discrimination against pupils with a disability from none other than the headmistress - Miss Careless. I came to hate her with a passion, she was always picking on me and through it, I had several seisures.
it led me to hating the idea of going to school.
Well, my mother found out what was behind my not wanting to go school by one of the parents who told mom what was going on and how I was treated. You've heard the saying: ' I wish I was a fly on the wall', well, mom stormed inthe classroom one morning, saw Miss Careless and, in front of the whole class, humiliated her, pulled me out of school, never to go back again.
This unfortunately created a problem as legally, I had to be educated. The Education dept contacted mom saying that I had to go back but, after mom explained how I was treated, nothing more was said. These were the same officials who wanted me to go to a special school for pupils with a disability - namely epilepsy. As luck would have it, mom was told of a school near by whose headmaster - Mr. Hopton - had a reputation for his gentleness. The school was St. Mark's and this school was the making of me. My seisures stopped and, I actually enjpyed going to school. I well remember the remarks Mr. Hopton said about me on my final report: 'i will miss Susan 's sunny smile next term'.
The Regis badge
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Secondary Schools.
As my brother & I were growing up, we had to say farewell to Merridale Court. We moved not far away to Castlecroft. It was a straightforward swap - the couple living in Castlecroft had our flat and we had their home - a home I've been living in for 49 years. It was Saturday, September, 22nd 1962.
Just before the move I was attending Highfields school, my time there was short - two weeks in fact. Highfields at the time was an annexed to Bingley infants/Juniors. One day, I was waiting for my brother, Andrew outside his classroom and, I heard a familiar voice saying: ' what are you doing hanging around the classroom door, go away'. I turned round, looked at my former tormentor in the eye and said: 'Hello Miss Careless, do you remember me, I'm here to collect my brother, Andrew Worsey'. Well, the colour drained from her face and not a sound was heard from her again.
Now, you've heard of the saying: ' Revenge is a dish best served cold', that was it, and boy! It tasted sweet.
Because I was at Highfields for 2 weeks, I was the only pupil wearing the REGIS school uniform. I stood out like a sore thumb at assemblies, I was even told off for wearing the wrong uniform.
My reaction to being told off was a classic Worsey response. I said that if the school can pay my parents the money to buy the Highfields uniform, I'll gladly wear it. However, as I'm only here for 2 wks, I will continue to wear my Regis uniform. Onto Regis Comprehensive School, a school like St. Mark's was the making of me. My first day at Regis began with being told off for wearing the wrong scarf by a teacher, ( I, at the time, was wearing a 4th year scarf). On explaining that this was first day, and l didn't realise there were two scarves, nothing more was said. Not many pupils can say that (a) they attended TWO senior schools and (b) being told off for wearing the wrong uniform at one and the wrong scarf at another. I bucked the trend! Friendships were formed in the playground which in my case, lasted nearly 50 years. Also we had fun, running the risk of being caught out having a 'quick ciggie' behind the bike sheds ( a favorite place to go was behind the temporary classrooms by the field). If caught out by the deputy head for boys, and incidently, was a smoker of repute, you had the offending cigarette taken from you and chastised. Talk about 'double standards', when you went inroads his office, you couldnt see for the smoke.
Throughout my childhood I have never heard my parents say a rude word rhyming with Donald Duck. In fact, at the age of 13, I didn't know what it meant unlike the children of today who, at a tender age, knows what it means. The reason why I've mentioned this is because there was an incident in my first year which led me to say that very word. There was this boy sitting behind me in class who wouldn't stop tormenting me. He was forever pulling the back of my hair when the teacher wasn't looking. Well, I had enough of his antics but, unfortunately for me, he chose to do it again when we were outside the classroom getting our coats. I turned around & told him to 'Donald Duck' off. The teacher heard me, I was summoned to the headmaster's office to explain myself, even my mom was summoned. To cut a long story short, when it was revealed that I didn't know what that word meant and mom saying that we don't use any rude word in the home, I was saved from detention which is more I can say for my tormentor. When it was revealed that it was my tormentor who was to blame, he was put in detention and made to apologise.
When we were at school the one thing you never did if you were tormented by a fellow pupil, turn him or her in - it was a Golden Rule.
Lucky for me, I had friends who witnessed what was going on and told the teacher. My tormentors have tried to get me into detention countless times but failed miserably for it rebounded on themselves. Saying that, some of my tormentors turned out to be friends once they were told of my epilepsy, even defending me against those who picked on me. Once the first year was over I began to settle down to life at Regis meeting someone who became my life-long friend, a friendship that has gone from strength to strength over the past 49 years and who has helped me with setting up my website.
Moving on to subjects we took. English, History, Art & Crafts and the dreaded Double Maths; how I hated that subject! Our Maths teacher tried and failed to teach me the subject. When it came to homework, I got my 7 year old brother to do it for me. Yes! You haven't mis-read it. My brother was very good at maths, so much so, he's now a professor of Mathematics. Anyway, getting back to my maths homework, when I handed it in the nxt day, I was given 100 percent. I thought to myself: ' I'm quids in here'. This went on until the dreaded exams. You quessed it!, I failed miserably, came bottom with a dismal percentage. Well, my maths teacher couldn't understand why my classwork was 100 percent, and my exam results were dismal. So concerned was she, that I was taken to one side to explain myself.
My response will make you choke on your mug of coffee. I said: ' that's easy Miss Jacombs, my 7 year old brother did my homrwork for me'. I've never seen a teacher so lost for words as Miss Jacombs. Now I was taught never to lie to anyone, let alone a teacher in order to get me of a spot. Thankfully for me, Miss Jacombs looked kindly on me and I was never given maths homework to do again. I was shown compassion by a teacher who had a reputation as being a hard 'taskmaster' who got results.
Moving on to our English teacher, Mr. Palin, a teacher I came to call 'Palin by name, Palin by nature'. During one English lesson he was taking, I had one of my petit Mal seisures - the sensation of staring into space, not paying attention. Well, I had a blackboard rubber thrown at me by Mr. Palin, missing my left ear by a fraction of an inch. I was coming out of the seisure and was confused and didn't know what was all the fuss around me was for. It was the only time I saw Mr. Palin so remorseful and full of compassion, I was sent to the rest room to sleep it off. Art & Crafts was a subject I loved and was good at it. Mr. Ivor Wilkinson - a talented artist - taught me everything I know. Years later, in 1989, we met at a Regis reunion - held at the time at Molineux Stadium. We all had our favorite teachers, teachers who showed us respect and got respect in return. I wouldn't change anything about my time at Regis, it made me what I am today. One last note before I move on, I would like to pay tribute to two of the finest teachers I had the good fortune to be taught by, my parents. Their love, devotion and determination to send me to schools of their choice, teaching me to survive in the 'real world', is testament to how I'm living a life without them today. As a former sailor, my father taught me the phonetic alphabet when I was a child. Mom taught me how to knit, exercising my right hand - a form of physiotheraphy as I still had a weakness down my right side from birth. They taught me how to be strong in the face of adversity and for that, I shall always be grateful.
As my brother & I were growing up, we had to say farewell to Merridale Court. We moved not far away to Castlecroft. It was a straightforward swap - the couple living in Castlecroft had our flat and we had their home - a home I've been living in for 49 years. It was Saturday, September, 22nd 1962.
Just before the move I was attending Highfields school, my time there was short - two weeks in fact. Highfields at the time was an annexed to Bingley infants/Juniors. One day, I was waiting for my brother, Andrew outside his classroom and, I heard a familiar voice saying: ' what are you doing hanging around the classroom door, go away'. I turned round, looked at my former tormentor in the eye and said: 'Hello Miss Careless, do you remember me, I'm here to collect my brother, Andrew Worsey'. Well, the colour drained from her face and not a sound was heard from her again.
Now, you've heard of the saying: ' Revenge is a dish best served cold', that was it, and boy! It tasted sweet.
Because I was at Highfields for 2 weeks, I was the only pupil wearing the REGIS school uniform. I stood out like a sore thumb at assemblies, I was even told off for wearing the wrong uniform.
My reaction to being told off was a classic Worsey response. I said that if the school can pay my parents the money to buy the Highfields uniform, I'll gladly wear it. However, as I'm only here for 2 wks, I will continue to wear my Regis uniform. Onto Regis Comprehensive School, a school like St. Mark's was the making of me. My first day at Regis began with being told off for wearing the wrong scarf by a teacher, ( I, at the time, was wearing a 4th year scarf). On explaining that this was first day, and l didn't realise there were two scarves, nothing more was said. Not many pupils can say that (a) they attended TWO senior schools and (b) being told off for wearing the wrong uniform at one and the wrong scarf at another. I bucked the trend! Friendships were formed in the playground which in my case, lasted nearly 50 years. Also we had fun, running the risk of being caught out having a 'quick ciggie' behind the bike sheds ( a favorite place to go was behind the temporary classrooms by the field). If caught out by the deputy head for boys, and incidently, was a smoker of repute, you had the offending cigarette taken from you and chastised. Talk about 'double standards', when you went inroads his office, you couldnt see for the smoke.
Throughout my childhood I have never heard my parents say a rude word rhyming with Donald Duck. In fact, at the age of 13, I didn't know what it meant unlike the children of today who, at a tender age, knows what it means. The reason why I've mentioned this is because there was an incident in my first year which led me to say that very word. There was this boy sitting behind me in class who wouldn't stop tormenting me. He was forever pulling the back of my hair when the teacher wasn't looking. Well, I had enough of his antics but, unfortunately for me, he chose to do it again when we were outside the classroom getting our coats. I turned around & told him to 'Donald Duck' off. The teacher heard me, I was summoned to the headmaster's office to explain myself, even my mom was summoned. To cut a long story short, when it was revealed that I didn't know what that word meant and mom saying that we don't use any rude word in the home, I was saved from detention which is more I can say for my tormentor. When it was revealed that it was my tormentor who was to blame, he was put in detention and made to apologise.
When we were at school the one thing you never did if you were tormented by a fellow pupil, turn him or her in - it was a Golden Rule.
Lucky for me, I had friends who witnessed what was going on and told the teacher. My tormentors have tried to get me into detention countless times but failed miserably for it rebounded on themselves. Saying that, some of my tormentors turned out to be friends once they were told of my epilepsy, even defending me against those who picked on me. Once the first year was over I began to settle down to life at Regis meeting someone who became my life-long friend, a friendship that has gone from strength to strength over the past 49 years and who has helped me with setting up my website.
Moving on to subjects we took. English, History, Art & Crafts and the dreaded Double Maths; how I hated that subject! Our Maths teacher tried and failed to teach me the subject. When it came to homework, I got my 7 year old brother to do it for me. Yes! You haven't mis-read it. My brother was very good at maths, so much so, he's now a professor of Mathematics. Anyway, getting back to my maths homework, when I handed it in the nxt day, I was given 100 percent. I thought to myself: ' I'm quids in here'. This went on until the dreaded exams. You quessed it!, I failed miserably, came bottom with a dismal percentage. Well, my maths teacher couldn't understand why my classwork was 100 percent, and my exam results were dismal. So concerned was she, that I was taken to one side to explain myself.
My response will make you choke on your mug of coffee. I said: ' that's easy Miss Jacombs, my 7 year old brother did my homrwork for me'. I've never seen a teacher so lost for words as Miss Jacombs. Now I was taught never to lie to anyone, let alone a teacher in order to get me of a spot. Thankfully for me, Miss Jacombs looked kindly on me and I was never given maths homework to do again. I was shown compassion by a teacher who had a reputation as being a hard 'taskmaster' who got results.
Moving on to our English teacher, Mr. Palin, a teacher I came to call 'Palin by name, Palin by nature'. During one English lesson he was taking, I had one of my petit Mal seisures - the sensation of staring into space, not paying attention. Well, I had a blackboard rubber thrown at me by Mr. Palin, missing my left ear by a fraction of an inch. I was coming out of the seisure and was confused and didn't know what was all the fuss around me was for. It was the only time I saw Mr. Palin so remorseful and full of compassion, I was sent to the rest room to sleep it off. Art & Crafts was a subject I loved and was good at it. Mr. Ivor Wilkinson - a talented artist - taught me everything I know. Years later, in 1989, we met at a Regis reunion - held at the time at Molineux Stadium. We all had our favorite teachers, teachers who showed us respect and got respect in return. I wouldn't change anything about my time at Regis, it made me what I am today. One last note before I move on, I would like to pay tribute to two of the finest teachers I had the good fortune to be taught by, my parents. Their love, devotion and determination to send me to schools of their choice, teaching me to survive in the 'real world', is testament to how I'm living a life without them today. As a former sailor, my father taught me the phonetic alphabet when I was a child. Mom taught me how to knit, exercising my right hand - a form of physiotheraphy as I still had a weakness down my right side from birth. They taught me how to be strong in the face of adversity and for that, I shall always be grateful.