SCHOOLTIME SCANDALS - PART ELEVEN: DINNERTIMES CAN BE DANGEROUS...

The teacher's table sat in front of (and parallel) to the stage

I was rather shy and introverted as a primary school
pupil and didn't mix with my fellows too well.  In my day,

it was the practice to pair off with a classmate when en route
to anywhere in the school by saying "Take!", and clasping the

hand of the favoured (or simply available) choice of partner

before making our way (in a double-filed group) to what-
ever part of the school we were led by the teacher.

One day, the bell rang for dinner, and the playground

emptied as the throng of kids made their way into the cor-
ridor outside the dinner hall, hooking up into pairs as they

waited to be permitted entry.  (I'm not sure why we were in
the playground at dinnertime, but we were.  Perhaps we
were the second wave of diners that day.)

Anyway, I hung back because I didn't have a pupil to
pair off with - for two reasons.  Firstly, no one picked me,
and secondly, I was just too shy to put myself forward.  My
brother found me lurking in the corridor and enquired why I
wasn't in the hall filling my face.  I explained my situation and
he took me to see Mr. Curry, the janitor.  Wishing to avoid
embarrassing me by saying "He's too shy to go into the hall
by himself", he just said  "He was at the far end of the
playground and didn't hear the dinner-bell."

Mr. Curry took me to the door of the hall, opened it
and actually whistled to the teachers sat at the 'top table'.
Mr. Halliburton, the depute head looked over, and Mr.
Curry nodded at me in a contemptuous manner.  "Says he
didn't hear the bell," he explained as Halliburton came
over, in a tone which suggested "a likely story".

Without saying a word, Mr.Halliburton grabbed me by
the scruff of the neck and, no exaggeration, my feet barely
touched the ground as he climbed the stairs to his classroom
on the top floor.  There, he administered several strokes of
'the strap', with such severity I could hardly breathe.  Then
he dragged me back down to the hall and said to one of
the dinner ladies "Give this boy his dinner!"

Ignore the doorway on your left.  It was from the doorway behind
it to your right from which Mr. Curry hailed Mr. Halliburton. 

I choose my next words very carefully.

What a sadistic, evil b*st*rd!  No empathy, no
sympathy, no clue about how to deal with kids who were a
bit self-conscious or inhibited.  How he was ever allowed to
be a teacher, never mind a headmaster (as he later became)
remains a total mystery to me.  I met him a few times over the
years as an adult (me, that is), and although I was always per-
fectly polite to him, I never forgot the appalling way he had
punished my 7 year-old self for merely being a bit shy and
lacking in confidence.  Schoolkids today don't know
how fortunate they are, that's for sure.

One of his two sons was in my class in secondary
school, and I always felt a bit sorry for him.  Not that
he was a sad individual or anything like that, but I have a
notion that he copped a fair bit of grief simply for being his
father's son.  Mr. Halliburton had been despised by quite a
number of pupils, and poor Neville would have had that to
deal with, unfortunately.  This was probably the opposite
of his primary school days I imagine, when none of his
classmates would've dared touch him for fear of in-
curring his pater's sadistic and unholy wrath.

I last saw Mr. Halliburton around 9 years or so ago,
but he was pretty ancient and I'd be surprised (although
not dismayed) to learn that he was still alive.  If it hasn't al-
ready happened, it'll soon be Mr. Halliburton's turn to see
'the Headmaster'.  However, I'm not so bitter over my ex-
perience that I'd object to him being accorded the under-
standing, insight and mercy that he seemed incapable
of displaying towards his unfortunate pupils.

   Hey, maybe I'm a better person than I thought.    

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