Takes Me Back.

My domestic science teacher was horrible - looking back she was a real snob. I was much younger than the other girls & from a working class family & a lot of the things we cooked I'd never heard of. I was a disaster, but the fact she made fun of me & said I was spoilt cos I obviously never helped my mum cook (I did, I could probably pluck & clean a pheasant faster than she could) did little to help my confidence. I do wish we'd had some unruly, messy boys in the class to share some of the sarcasm that came my way each lesson.

I thank heaven for Mrs Brown my Dom Sci teacher in the 60s. I learnt how to every pastry, every sauce, casseroles, roasts, baking. I use these skilled every day and remember most of what she taught us including the highest food hygiene standards. My husband is very appreciatuve that he never has to cook.

How lucky you've been, Annsixty!

My driving instructor, a former London bus driver, repeatedly said “Beware that moment of inattention”. I think of it frequently.

Cookery at my girls’ grammar school in the 1950s was not highly regarded by the head, who believed if you could read a recipe book you could cook - though I doubt she put it into practice. We cooked in pairs and on one occasion discovered the currants after putting the pudding (spotted dick) in the steamer. Total failure and a lecture about wasting ingredients. How modern!

My girls Grammar School in the early 1950's did not have Domestic Science on its agenda. It had been a very up-market private girls school until the 1948 Education Act, and still had some fee paying pupils there. The Headmistress always stated that her 'gals' would not need to know anything about cooking, etc as they would always have 'staff' for this!!!!

When I was doing a Teachers Training course, one of the child Development lecturers told us that no-one knew at which point babies started to learn language, so it was important to talk to babies a lot. When I had my first child I kept hearing these words in my head and so kept gabbling at my poor little son. If I could not think of anything to say, would just go through the alphabet, or numbers at him. Somehow, he did manage to survive this sort of manic behavior!!!!!

Franbern. My posh convent school was the same. Apparently we wouldnt need domestic skills because we would "marry well" ??.

We did have needlework and the teacher was vile. She really had it in for me.

She was an outrageous snob and really had it in fir me, purely because I was a scholarship girl from a working class background. In all the years I was there I never managed to finish a garment because she kept making me unpick my work and do it again. She said I was useless.

Strange that because at home I had been sewing for years, doing all the family sewing because my mum wouldn't even sew a button on. I ended up being a very competent dressmaker, designing, making my patterns. Later on I went on to study fashion and design as part of my degree. Taught myself to knit, crochet, embroider and even to dye and print fabrics and textiles.

You have to laugh at her disdain for me. I didn't let it bother me because I realised it was just sheer snobbery on her part because I wasn't from a comfortable middle class background like my fellow classmates. She would actually wrinkle her nose with distaste when she came near me.

And no I didn't smell or have fleas. We might have been poor but we were very clean, ?

We did knitting and sewing at Primary school. Much too recreational for Secondary. We also had a concentrated week of domesticity towards the end of our 5th year (17ish) when we were about to be released into the adult world. Girls cooking, lads handcraft. Thankfully, my Granny had taught me many of the basics as I recollect the domestic being somewhat advanced\ambitious. Nothing as practical as how to make a pot of tea or boil an egg which would have been much more useful