9. “Going out to school”
It may seem paradoxical to send children to a boarding school, only for the boarding school to send them into the local town for their secondary education. The idea was basically good, since it gradually reintegrated us into the wider society and enabled us to mix with people of our own age who enjoyed “normal” home lives. Some years after I left, the system had to be abandoned. With the increasing delinquency of the new Caldecott intake, it became untenable to send children “out to school” with the guarantee that they would be expelled within a day or two. Things had not reached this pass when I joined Ashford Grammar School in 1964, but I soon learnt of our unenviable reputation when the Physical Education master, Mr. Watson, asked on my first day if there was anyone from Caldecott in the class. I put up my hand and he studied me carefully. “You look quite normal”, he concluded. This was before he saw my efforts in the gym. Later, he would never remember my name, he simply stared balefully, pointed and shouted, “You! Caldecott!” This was not entirely fair. Caldecott boys could be ringleaders in juvenile insolence, but some, like Gerald Moran who was around his fourth year, were giving promise of a brilliant academic career. All the same, telephone calls between the Grammar School and the Hatch must have been frequent. Fortunately the headmaster, E. T. Mortimore, was a wonderfully understanding man and Miss Dave, who took most of the calls, was a mistress of diplomacy. Ashford Grammar School would warrant a chapter to itself, but this is the story of my Caldecott years.