Memories From Students
Elizabeth Burnell 1958–60
Paris, 3.50 p.m., Thursday 18 March 1999
It is difficult to stop thinking in French and to remember St Gabriel’s in England, forty-one years ago. When the letter arrived asking me to write something, I was just about to set off for three weeks in France and here I am, in Paris, half-way through my holiday, sitting beside the fountains of the gardens below the Basilica of Sacré-Coeur, writing this. Tonight I go south to Nice to join a group flying out from England for a Gardens Tour. Last week, I was walking on a deserted beach round part of the west coast island of Noirmoutier, and then stayed in Nantes.
Why France? Why St Gabriel’s? Well, back in 1958 Miss Atkinson accepted me as a mature student, without all the right qualifications, because she knew and had taught at the school I had attended, and she knew its reputation. For me St Gabriel’s was a dream: an opportunity to enter a new world, to be away from home for the first time in my life and to start on the road to a teaching career after working – at my father’s insistence – as a secretary, following two years at secretarial college. I didn’t like French much at school but in the College it made a pleasant change from secretarial studies to take up French Literature and to start Spanish.
My mother came with me that first day at St Gabriel’s and there she met Mrs Lake and
her daughter Margaret (now Mrs Sharp), who was to become my room-mate in Tower House and a
lifelong friend since. What did Margaret teach? French! I started with Religious Studies but
later changed to English with Miss Blackburn. Margaret, of course, had Mrs Pisani Smith, whose
great friend at University had later been my own English teacher at school. In those days we
decided which age group to teach before we came to College; we both chose secondary. We also
had only two years, unlike later students. However, Margaret had to do a third year in France
and I was lucky enough to be given a year off many years later for the third year at London
and King’s. Even in our two years, there were many other things to enjoy, as well as
most of the lectures. Even with a 10.30 p.m. curfew and a late pass to 11.00 p.m. at weekends
several times a term, I found the freedom unbelievable. Because I was just outside London my
sister organised tickets for me and a small group of friends to go to productions at the theatres;
Miss Scowcroft kindly allowed Margaret and me to come in late, in order to stay to the end
of an operetta.
I could just swim, but not very well: I had only ever swum in the sea with my father on rare holidays, as we were not allowed to go to swimming baths which were considered health risks! Margaret and I, with Sheila Clissold (now Mrs Larbey), became part of a class for third-year PE students and had to swim regularly – was it at Manor Place Baths just outside Camberwell? Margaret was not so keen when I woke her up regularly at 5.30 or 6.00 a.m. to go to an outdoor baths further away, which allowed you to swim free between 6.00 and 9.00 a.m. No matter that you missed breakfast and arrived late to the first lecture, often with dripping wet hair!
What else do I remember? Margaret and Sheila Fergus-Smith (where is she now?) playing tennis in Myatt’s Fields; rushing to catch the first bus to the sports fields at Greenwich to play netball and not hockey (the only time in my life I was early for Games). Luckily, by our second year the choice was wider and I was able to swim instead. I well remember Miss Bate (now Mrs Foster) teaching me to dive. I took my Life Saving exams. We were allowed to jump off the top board in the exam as I never managed to dive from a height. I certainly enjoyed teaching swimming some years later as it was a very good contrast to Religious Studies. I still have pieces of pottery I made with Miss Enock – another new experience – and I also enjoyed learning to weave with Miss Legge. She later became our Warden in the new Hall which was built beside the main entrance during our first year (Stannard Hall). As it was not finished by the start of our second year, Margaret and I, with others who lived close enough to travel from home, did this for a time before taking over our lovely new single rooms.
I also remember arranging my piano lessons to clash with Miss Meier’s Art of Movement sessions. Having grown up on ballet for years, I had difficulty pretending to be puff of smoke rising while wearing those terrible blue dance tunics we all had to buy from Daniel Neal – clearly only ever made in one size!
Miss Cherry, the tiny little lady who taught History of Education, looked so sweet and gentle – but oh, those notes, page after page, with loads more to be written by you before the next lecture! Then there was Mrs Howard, still wearing those hats, when she inspected you on School Practice. I recall sitting in Miss Bate’s car, going to Vauxhall School for my first Teaching Practice, clutching a stuffed seagull borrowed from the College’s biology department for my first-ever lesson. How scared I was after only six weeks in College.
We went to a Ball on a blind date with students from St Mark and St John’s College; Margaret had a bright orange dress and I had made a lovely white lace one.
That brings to mind the sadness of that first year. My mother, who had seen my unfinished dress, was never to see me wearing it, as she died in a London Hospital that first term. How well I remember the kindness of Margaret, Miss Bate, Miss Atkinson and Sheila Clissold at that time. I regret to this day that my mother, who was so proud to see me start my training (although also a little worried that I might not succeed), never saw me qualify and become a real teacher. My faith held me together, and Margaret choosing to be confirmed at College also helped. I remember Canon Fenton Morley’s services in the lovely College Chapel and his lectures for the Testemur.
I missed those reunions in College for many years after we left. What became of our lovely second-years: Beryl Taylor, Carol Flawith and Daphne Morris, who taught the deaf? I think of Dedication Day and all those lovely lilies of the valley as we went to St John the Divine. So many faces, many now without names, and others, like Priscilla, who sadly had such a short life but whose son must now be a man. How well I remember her infectious smile and those mice travelling home each holiday, by train, in their Mouse House. Yvonne Jobling, Carol Owen, Golda Brooks from Jamaica, where are they all? I do hope many will see the notice of this reunion and come to renew old friendships and perhaps make new ones. What about Elizabeth Lang (Mrs Ford) and Peter, where are you now? I look forward to singing the special St Gabriel’s hymn and being able to say thank you for all that St Gabriel’s gave us and for all that it stood for, for so many people.
Well, I spent my holiday in 1959 working with a family here in France, as did Margaret. London schools were saturated with students at that time so we were allowed to work anywhere provided it was with children. Margaret stayed on in France and, back in England, I lived with her parents for my first year in teaching and they helped me enormously. By the end of the year my sister and I found a flat in Ealing where we stayed before moving to our present home in Harrow, where we had both grown up. I remember being a Year Rep for some years and I still have many newsletters that students sent me during those years. I went back to France (in 1960 I think) to replace Susan Cheney with a family near Cannes, while she came home for a spell.
Well, now it’s full circle, and I am finishing this on a train taking me back to the South of France. As I took early retirement some years ago, I am now able to travel outside the school holiday period, a joy in itself. I am now a pupil again, learning Hebrew and loving it, and both here in France and at home I have followed my hobby of Israeli Dancing.
Well, that’s all. Thank you, St Gabriel’s, for many happy memories.
