My thirteen years of schooling was obviously a time of learning – not just from within the confines of a classroom, but also from my peers and elders in the playground.

I learned about my strengths. And and my very obvious weaknesses.

I learned how to interact with others; I learned what I was good at (English and P.E.) and what I was rubbish at (Maths and Physics.) I also learned that contrary to another popular expression, not everything is possible through hard work and dedication alone. To this day, I cannot sing a note without causing offence. Neither can I play a musical instrument, paint a pretty picture or mould an ashtray from wet clay.

Hmmmmnnn!

On reflection, it looks like I learned a lot more about what I couldn’t do. That’s OK, I suppose – learning and acknowledging one’s limitations at an early age can only save on false hope, frustration and disappointment later in life.

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During my six years at Bearsden Academy (1970 -1976) I learned the following:.

.That I could write 100 lines on paper only marginally larger than a stamp.

It was intended to be funny at the time, but I now realise I was just being an annoying little smart-ass. Given a ‘punny’ (punishment exercise) for my poor handwriting in English class, my favourite but somewhat exasperated teacher, Miss Hunter instructed me to write the line, ‘I must not write so small,’ one hundred times for nine o’clock the following morning.

So that evening, I sharpened my pencil to the finest of points and with great care and concentration, wrote the lines on a tiny piece of paper. What a jolly good wheeze, I thought.

It took about five times as long to complete the punishment this way. Miss Hunter, of course, was only too happy to remind me of this the next day. She immediately scrunched the little bit of paper and dropped it into the bin with nothing more than a weary sigh and a slow, deliberate shake of her head.

• That I couldn’t write 500 lines in a third of the time by securely binding three pencils together with elastic bands.

I was a bit of a failure when it came to cunning plans. In principle, it should have worked – it did for Roger the Dodger in The Beano comic. However, not everything that looks so easy is such. Did you, for instance, ever try making something as shown on Blue Peter?

I rest my case.

No, like the previous point, this clever-clogs, bird-brained, smarty-pants exercise failed miserably.

. That pink custard is the spew of the Devil.

Who on earth decided this was a delicious dessert? I used to think it must have been invented by some sicko from the Science department. The teachers down there were forever carrying out strange and pointless experiments. I wouldn’t have put it past them.  

I took heed, though and avoided the stuff. Jam and coconut sponge is quite fine on its own, thank you very much.

• That if you fancy someone (other than your English teacher) then tell them. Don’t be a putz and ‘play it cool.’

Me? Playing it cool? Ha! That’s a laugh. I was no Fonzie Fonzarelli that’s for sure. I still cringe with embarrassment at the memories of missed opportunity. (Telling your English teacher you fancy them is neither cool nor recommended, by the way.)

• That hockey is a game for sadists, masochists and mentalists.

I only ever played two games, both against the girls’ teams. It was enough to convince me I’d rather suffer a hard-hit Mitre Mouldmaster (a dimpled rubber / plastic football of the day) between my legs than be rapped on the ankle / shin by a wayward hockey stick / ball.

.That it’s true – schooldays, if not THE best, were certainly amongst the best days of my life.  

From a personal perspective at least, friendships formed at school remain tight even if there’s been no regular interaction or contact for almost fifty years.

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***This is an edited chapter from one of my books, ‘A Space Hopper Killed My Hamster.’ *****