nastymum wrote:.Miss Morrison was no teacher though she my well have been witty.... we were either paralysed with fear at getting it wrong or underlined the entire book. There was no comment made by Miss Morrison or any questions asked by the pupils. She then set an essay title and our responses were subject to her dry wit. Or bullying, depending on your point of view.The pupis in the 'other set' scoffed and derided us for being so stupid as to end up in Miss Morrison's set in the first place .
There was no teaching of anything as far as I can see now.
OK, I'm rising up in defence of BJM!
Paralysed with fear? No teacher? No teaching of anything? BULLYING?
Believe me, having done time at Hertford and having worked in an almost entirely female-uniformed hierarchy, as well as having had several unbearable women bosses, I must have the most acute bully-dar of anyone I know! Miss Morrison a bully? Never, never, never!
It was bullying by senior girls once I was in a senior House, 6s, which led me to adopt the persona of overweight comedienne as a survival strategy. It was Miss Morrison who seemed to understand why I would behave in this way.
I have written before in great detail about the newly arrived Miss Morrison, who was our Form Mistress in L1Va - so I don't want to repeat myself. We were greatly in awe of her at first, then tuned into her wonderful dry wit, her immaculate organisational skills, her compassion, her ability to turn even a small query into the subject of interesting debate.
We used deliberately to lead her off-topic in English.
"Miss Morrison, for perfect pronunciation, should one pronounce the "h" in "white"?
"Can you tell from our accents where our homes are?"
"Miss Morrison, if you'd not been an English Mistress, what career would you have chosen?"
"Please, Miss Morrison, do you belong to a Union?"
I can see now the expression on her face as she considered her careful and interested response to every question. I was twelve at the time when I suppose BJM struck me as the first adult I'd met who delighted in reasoned debate. (I'd been brought up by Evangelical Christians
)
I adored the importance she gave to grammar, spelling and punctuation. Even now, I think of her when I address an envelope with the flap on the right... If we spelled a word wrongly, we wrote it out three times at the bottom of the marked piece of work. ("Becomming" would have had this remedial treatment
) Once, BJM came up with a list of words commonly misspelled which, she said, would always be useful to us. "Rhythm" and "ecstasy" were numbers one and two - so essential for our future correspondence -
On a Thursday afternoon, we had BJM English before the dreaded Needlework with a
real bully, SWSNBN. Casually, Miss Morrison said that for this lesson we would read aloud our set book and
if we had any adjustments to make to our needlework we could bring it out and sew as well. She'd realised the agitation and fear in the air! Fantastic.
A remarkable thing she did for me was casting me in a role for a Speech Day English Recitation. She had chosen a scene from GBS "Arms and the Man". Lesley Bonham was the Chocolate Soldier, I the romantic heroine. I was large, bouncy, "funny"; dedicated to disruptive behaviour. There were many slender pretty girls suitable for the part. Miss Morrison put me in a flowing negligeé thingy - it was as if she were showing me I had potential in other ways. I wasn't great in the role, but was amazed and encouraged that somebody saw something else to bring out in me.
In fact, she seemed to appreciate the individual foibles of us all.
Of all the staff - and I speak as one reduced to a nervous gibbering wreck in the presence of the corruscating genius of QMB, the bored glazed blue glance of Miss Taverner, the accurately aimed banderillas of scornful Miss Jukes, the blunt insensitive indifference of DR - it is dear Miss Morrison for whom I reserve love and respect.