First Day at School

First Day at School

Do you happen to remember your first day at school? I certainly do.

The Ayrshire village of Lugar’s Peesweep Brae, aka ‘the Peesie Brae’, was and remains the setting for one of the most memorable days of my young life, if not necessarily for the most uplifting of reasons.

At the foot of the big steep hill lay innocence and freedom, and at the top sat Lugar Primary school and the draconian regimentation that would define my schooldays for the next seven long years.

You see, Lugar Primary was an old red-sandstone building which had about as much charisma as a burst tyre. For an insecure toddler, what it lacked in aesthetic splendor it more than made up for in nightmarish oppression.

The very first time I walked through the big wrought-iron gates, squeezing my mother’s hand as if I was about to be snatched away by the wicked witch who had scared me shitless in the Snow White and the Seven Dwarves film that she had taken me to see for my fourth birthday, the whole place filled me with terror.

First, there was the utter mayhem and insane cacophony of noise coming from the tarmac playground as the older boys and girls cavorted around chasing each other, all the while leering at us as their next potential victims. Then there was the revolting smell from the school kitchen, a gruesome amalgam of burnt mince, boiled cabbage and lumpy custard, the demonic combination of which made me want to spew my guts up onto the pair of shiny new shoes that my mum had bought me from McGrady’s footwear shop in Cumnock Square the previous weekend.

However, what really took the biscuit was the sight of the little pocket-sized headmaster striding across the playground, ringing a hand-held bell and demanding immediate silence, which he achieved within a nanosecond.

‘Right, into your lines!’ he bellowed, a pair of wild eyes protruding menacingly from his ruddy little face. ‘And don’t let me hear a cheep from anyone … or this is what you’ll get!’

And right on cue, he pulled a leather belt from the shoulder of his jacket, not unlike John Wayne snatching a handgun from his holster, the only difference being that Big John was always the good guy. However, ‘Wee Shuggie’ was the polar opposite, a vertically-challenged little thug suffering from ‘wee man syndrome’. And as it would eventually dawn on me in later years, one who had no time at all for children who either hailed from a disadvantaged background or who was born of limited intellectual ability. In laypersons’ language, Wee Shuggie was a wee shite. However, he did possess a remarkable propensity to reduce anxious children to tears of terror. A warm and reassuring welcome to formal education, this was not.

So, into our ‘lines’ we went like a flock of sheep being hounded by a sly, teeth-snapping border collie. And there I was, all happed up in my short trousers, brand-new school blazer and wee shiny shoes, mingling most uncomfortably with another thirty or so similarly traumatised four-and-five-year-olds and awaiting the introduction of one Miss Cameron, whom my mum had informed me was ‘a very nice lady’.

And right on cue, she arrived.

But Miss Cameron wasn’t just nice. She was the most gorgeous creature I had ever clapped eyes upon. I immediately fell head over heels in love with her. Only four years old and hopelessly smitten already. I have no recollection of any of the detail … of what height she was, or her hair colour, or what clothes she wore. However, the impact she made on me was utterly enormous.

Many years later, my now sadly-departed mum suggested looking out an old photograph of Miss Cameron, but I talked her out of it because I didn’t want to discover that in the cold light of day she had actually more closely resembled the back-end of a bus. Shattered memories and all that.

Then, enter the inimitable and completely unforgettable Dan.

Dan was the only one in our class who didn’t possess a school uniform, in what would transpire to be my very first experience of genuine child poverty. However, what Dan lacked in formulaic Co-op attire, he more than compensated for with two of the most enormous green blobs hanging from his nostrils, both of which wobbled in impressive synchronicity and either of which could have demolished a small building.

‘Right, boys and girls,’ Miss Cameron announced cheerily. ‘Let’s all line up in twos, shall we?’

So, we all shuffled ourselves into two roughly parallel lines, our mothers and the occasional father looking proudly on. Cue Dan again.

‘I’m no’ gaun intae twos,’ he roared. ‘So, yous can a’ f–k off!’

The next thing we knew, Dan was bolting through the big gate and high-tailing it back down the Peesie Brae in a valiant attempt to reunite himself with innocence and freedom. However, what he hadn’t reckoned on was that the gorgeous Miss Cameron was faster than he was. As all the children and their parents stood gawking in astonishment, she fairly sprinted out the gate after him.

To this day, I will never forget the feeling of cruel abandonment that swept over me at that moment. So, I did the only valiant thing that I could think of. I bolted after her.

According to my poor astonished mother, I caught up with Miss Cameron half-way down the Peesie Brae just as she had grabbed Dan by the lapels of his hand-me-down jacket, and we all returned to rapturous applause. And there I stood hyperventilating in the playground after my commendable Peesie Brae exertions and about to be sent into my ‘lines’ by a little, ruddy-faced pocket Hitler masquerading as a headmaster.

As for the remainder of my first day at school, I have no further recollection whatsoever. Apart that is, from Bobby Templeton suddenly screaming in agony just before the morning interval.

Dan, again.

You see, Miss Cameron had rather naively seated Dan behind poor wee defenceless Bobby in our first-ever classroom and the former had soon figured that an ingenious way of using a sharpened pencil was to shove it up the backside of the latter, to highly amusing effect.

Dan really was the most inventive child. I often wonder what happened to him. MI6 spy would be my guess. Funny how life works out, don’t you think?

Any ‘first day at school’ memories of your own?