What do you recall from your first day at school?

I had a lousy time at school, failed my 11 + and the teachers just didn't give a dam. Despite this a lot of us made good.
I went into further education in my 40's and trained to be a nurse but had to do an 'Access to Health and Social studies' course first.
Among the subjects we had to study, we had to take English classes and the tutor asked us to write an essay on school memories. Here is a part of my essay (for which I got high marks).

I had really been looking forward to starting school but not on my birthday! I had wanted to stay at home and play with my birthday presents.

My teacher Mrs Isherwood was a stern woman with sharp features and her black hair was swept back severely in a French pleat. The other pupils had started class before me. I vividly recall how she told the children to gather around the blackboard. She had turned to me and said ‘’Excluding Marianne.’’ Being only five years old I didn’t know what she meant so I stayed in my seat anyway. Then she stared at me. I squirmed in my seat unsure of what she wanted. Then I thought she must have wanted me to join the others but as I stood up she yelled ‘’ I said excluding Marianne.’’ So I burst into tears.

I stayed in Mrs Isherwood’s class until Christmas then moved to Mrs Swale’s class. She was really nice. The classroom was pleasant enough with an alphabet freeze around the wall. There were lots of toys that we were allowed to play with in the afternoons. A Wendy house. A sand pit and a water trough with funnels, rubber pipes and bottles. Mornings were spent learning the alphabet and using coloured blocks of different lengths that represented different numbers. The pupils had to make rows of patterns with them and they taught us how many ways there were to make up the number ten.

I didn’t want to leave the nursey unit and move to the main school. The main building was large and foreboding. In comparison to the nursey unit the classrooms were dull and boring. They were bigger than the nursey classrooms with high ceilings. The walls and ceilings were painted magnolia with the odd painting here and there.
The toilets were outside across the school yard. They were damp and cold and smelled musty. There were brick air raid shelters all along one side of the school yard. We not supposed to go in them. They were dark, damp and creepy, a haven for spiders and beetles. They also made good hiding places when we played hide and seek!

I could leave home at 8.55 a.m. and be in time for the school bell when I moved to the junior school because it was literally at the end of the street where I lived. This was a modern building with a low roof and long corridors. This school had the luxury of indoor toilets with two rows of washbasins opposite each other. Each basin had a bar of pink soap (carbolic I think). In the middle and above each row of wash basins were two mirrors opposite each other. When you looked through one you could see the reflection of the other and so on. This was my first experience of ad-infinitum.
Mrs How took us for sewing and craft classes but I represented a problem for her. I had learned to knit at home. My mother used to cast on for me, but being left handed I knitted back to front. It was the same with sewing I used my left hand. Mrs How flatly refused to help me when I made a mistake and insisted I learn to knit like right handed people do. I now knit as a right handed person and can sew with either hand!

In time I became a dinner monitor at lunch times. The meals were always delicious at the junior school. Dinner monitors had to set and clear the dinner tables but had first go at second helpings. I also became one of the school prefects and one of our jobs was to wash all the teacher’s cups and saucers after break time. There was a varied assortment of bone china crockery. My friend Hazel and I used to make up names for each item based on their design or names on the bottom of each piece.

My best friend was a girl called Janet and I was deeply saddened when she told me she was emigrating to Canada with her family.
Monkseaton Secondary Modern or Bygate as the kids knew it as had a terrible reputation. I was bitterly disappointed when I failed my ‘Eleven Plus’ and knew I would have to go to Bygate seniors. ‘’You’ll never survive’’ my brother Dennis tormented me. ‘Bygate is the hardest school in this area and you‘re too soft’’ he chided. He warned me to keep away from Cathy Barns or she would ‘fill me in’ as he put it. Cathy Barns had left the term before I joined but she had been superseded by Jennifer Yates who was nearly as bad. I once had my ears boxed by Jennifer for daring to do a handstand in front of her!

The school building was old with flaking paint, outside toilets again and was very cold in the winter. The main classrooms had glass panelled doors all along the sides of them. The back and front walls were brick. Built around a forecourt there were verandas on either side of the classrooms. The inside veranda had been blocked in with wooden panels and windows. The outside verandas were open to the elements and the North East winds used to howl though the ill fitting glass doors. Radiators had been installed on the inside of the pointed classroom ceilings and were neither use nor ornament.

There was one toilet roll in the girl’s cloakroom. That hard horrible Izal stuff (you know like greaseproof paper). The girls had to take what they thought they needed out to the toilets and God help them if they didn’t take enough!

The desk tops were covered in graffiti. Some in ink and some actually carved into the wooden tops, presumably with a pen knife. The underneath of the desks were made of really rough wood and the girls wore tights or should I say stockings in those days) at their peril because they would always snag on the rough wood. There were usually hard bits of chewing gum there too!

The boys at Bygate were awful. They used to punch or grab the girls as they walked past. They thought it was funny.
During the weeks leading up to the dreaded Christmas Party’s we had to learn to do old time dancing with them. If you didn’t like the person you were dancing with you barely touched them using just your finger tips. The whole thing was a farce. Any boy refusing to dance with a particular girl used to get the slipper off the sports master. The teachers were quite liberal with corporal punishment, usually the cane.
I was delighted to leave Bygate with its disgusting bottle green and yellow tie. It gave me the greatest pleasure to bin my bottle green knickers. Even if I did not learn a lot academically I learned to be tough. You had to be to survive Bygate!

Bawling the place down after getting my finger jammed in the Wendy house!

I’d been at home with Mum, no nursery or playgroup. I wasn’t allowed to play with local children. I was thrilled to be going to school at last! I had a picture of a pixie on my peg, brilliant! We got to play with dolls and a toy kitchen with tiny pots and pans. My teacher was called Miss Brown, she was about 25 and drop dead gorgeous. I loved everything about my first day, couldn’t wait to go back!

I ran away on my first day at school! I crossed a main road and ran all the way down a very long road to the sweet shop, I can't remember any more!

Absolutely nothing about being in school but the first day trip to school, yes. School had April and October start dates. Lived top of a hill that had to be navigated to get onto road to school. Myself and friend, also first day, were so excited at being able to slide on the ice all the way down the hill several times whilst our Mums clung to one another for dear life trying not to fall. Great start and great school.

I came home and cried because I hadn’t learned to read on my first day!

I was born in December 1964 and went to a playgroup when I was around three. They were quite a new innovation then and ours was held in the living room of the playgroup leader’s house. This house was a 1960s upside down house, with the bedrooms downstairs and the living room and kitchen upstairs. In the July of 1969, those of us who were starting school in September were marched two by two to “big” school, where we spent the morning. I lived in a large dormitory village near Norwich and there were two classes per year. A brand new primary school had been built a year or two before I started, but the birth rate was so high at that time that there was not enough room for the reception classes, so these were at the other end of the village in what was called the Annexe, round the corner from the old school. The Annexe was a mobile building for the two classes and there was a playground with a big log in it for us to play on. There was also another, smaller building where we had school dinners and indoor PE. This building was rather like a Nissen hut left over from the war - in fact, it could well have been. I loved school from the beginning. I was lucky in that l found most aspects of it easy, especially reading and spelling. The teacher, Mrs Scales, was excellent and experienced. I would imagine that she was in her forties at the time. She was firm but fair and l can only remember being really happy and safe because we knew exactly what was expected of us. We went out for nature walks, holding hands in twos. This was the first time I realise that some children had wet palms rather than the dry, exezma prone skin l had. There were nearly forty of us in the class and the teacher was on her own. It is unimaginable today to take that number of children for a walk with only the teacher today. As we lined up for dinner in pairs, we would be counted out: “two, four, six, eight cherries on a cottage plate,” so learning the the two times table without realising it. At the end of the day, we would sit on the carpet while having a story read to us. I was amazed how many of the boys’ names appeared to be in the story as, while showing us the pictures we would hear: “Once upon a time, David A, there was a little gingerbread boy, Andrew B….” We would then say the home time prayer before going home. It was a lovely, gentle introduction to school without the older children and I can remember crying my eyes out at the end of the year when I realised that I would not be returning. However, the following September, I started my second year of school in the new building and revelling in the new opportunities there.

1954 and I can still see the slippers of the girl next to me. I was given a tidy box with a tin of plasticine, a string of large beads and some wax crayons. I loved it! My coat peg had a blue lamb on it. I didn't like the tiny toilets and would not go at school. Luckily I lived almost next door so went home for dinner. Happy days! Unfortunately, later on, I hated grammar school.

It was nearly 70 years ago. I have no idea.

I went to a local nursery school at 3 - my mother taught there so I was very happy- my brother was also there- I was made to eat carrots which I hated, and threw up all over the place. I don’t think they tried again! I loved school all the way through! I almost went there for fun and to meet all my friends. I wasn’t the hardest worker for which I got into endless trouble. But I did ok in the end and still keep in touch with all of old school and university friends- some have died as we are all 80 and a bit!

First day, well, at infants school -- I think it was called a Kindergarten/garden (?) - I was a bit frightened, and certainly confused. All those other kids! The teachers seemed very stern, but as I turned out to be fairly bright, very quiet and obedient, they seemed OK with me. And as many have said, I could already read and write to some extent when I was 5, that helped.

Secondary school though (Grammar in fact) - oh dear. That was scary, such a big place, what seemed like an army of kids, no clues where anything was, or what was going on!

I cannot remember.

Yes, we had to pull out mattresses for the afternoon naps at nursery school. There were slates with chalk to write on/with. Moving up a level, the lift up lid desks were in rows and the ambition was always to be in the first row, so that you were top of the class. Then, the honour of being ink monitor for the week!!

Those ghastly 1/3rd bottles of milk - always warm in the summer and exploding out of the tops in winter, with the birds helping themselves!

Those navy knickers, Witzend! Always having to be worn with white liners in case the dye ran! And which bright spark decided that they would be an ideal place to build in a pocket for one's handkerchief?!

I cannot remember who said it but I agree that gym mistresses had to be sadists. Out there playing hockey, in aforementioned knickers, in minus 4 degrees, with snow on the ground. Legs a weird shade of blue and purple! I hate sport to this day!

Oh, happy days!

My Mom ran the family boarding house in a lovely seaside town. My Grandma was bedridden, and I spent my first three years on her big downstairs bed during the day. We idolised each other and she spent her days teaching me, reading, writing, sums, drawing and poetry. At 3 I was too energetic for this, so Mom asked a local infant school headmistress (her friend) if I could sit in with the class, playing in the corner while the older children had lessons. First day I took Tiddles, my toy koala with me, as a friend. When home-time came I had enjoyed myself so much I screamed and cried when I had to go home. I was so upset, I threw Tiddles in the road, and he was run over by a Ribble Red Bus! I was heartbroken until Mom squashed him back to shape. After that I was never allowed to take him with me. I did enjoy being there though, in my corner. After a few weeks, the teacher realised that I was also absorbing the lessons of the older children, and with Mom's permission, included me in the class work. At home time each day, I would cling onto the iron railings outside the school, crying because I didn't want to go home. As an aside, my best 5th birthday present was joining the local library and having a card of my own. 70+ years on I always have a book with me.

I started school in 1961 aged just 4. The road on the way to school was being newly tarred and to this day the smell of tar takes me back to that day. I was a very shy child and I noticed the teacher bolt the door of the classroom when we were all inside and that was it, I burst into tears !

I've been reading through this thread with a mixture of delight and incredulity! Delight in recognising similar experiences from my early schooldays but incredulity at the appalling nature of some of the remembered experiences! Children today are lucky that we live in more enlightened times, in some respects.

I remember the horror of being made to finish all that was put in front of me for lunch. A slow eater even today, I hated stewed fruit, especially prunes which seemed to appear on the menu with sickening regularity! (pardon the pun!) One day, I concealed a large apricot in the side of my mouth, intending to dispose of it in the playground bin. Unfortunately, I was spotted by one of the staff!

This has reminded me of my little boy's first day.

I picked him up and asked if he'd had a good time. 'Yes thank you, but I don't want to go again.

I remember crying when my mum left me in the classroom and also the smell of lemon curd coming from the kitchen. It didn't take long to settle in but I can't abide lemon curd!

My first day of school was in 1965, at the age of 5.

My first teacher was an "auntie" (some relative of my father) who I knew very well, so I was completely relaxed and just excited to be there. I remember a little pot of perfectly rolled up plasticine in my desk, and being desperate to get it out and play.

The girl who became my first best friend was the daughter of the school's headmaster, and she led the charge out of the classroom, running after her mother, in floods of tears. I was tasked with befriending her and reassuring her that school was going to be fine, and nothing to worry about.

There were no such things as playgroups, nurseries etc where we lived, so first day of school was our first taste of being in that kind of environment, and away from our parents.

We had 2 reception classes in a tin hut. I was in Miss Hart’s class. To me she looked ancient(!) and I did not take to her. After playtime I took myself next door to Miss Ruthford’s class, she was much younger and prettier. I was swiftly frog marched back to where I should have been all along. I was very unhappy for a long time. I can now read, write and count so some good must have come of that year!

I remember being taken by my mother wearing a double breasted pink tweedy coat with velvet collar. It was 1952, my teacher was Mrs Moss. I hadn’t been to nursery or any kind of play group so my first recollection was of a lot of noise. There were toys which I remember looking at and as I could talk for England I chatted to a girl I already vaguely knew. She is still my friend over 70 years on.
When I got home I told my mother I wanted to stay at home and be a mummy like her. One wish that was granted.

I remember being on the floor in the doorway crying my eyes out and my mother and the teacher (Miss Boler) trying to get me into the classroom. Once in I was sat at the end of a long table with all the other children. I settled in okay. We used to have stories in the afternoon and we all sat on the floor. Another memory is of me and my friend getting blue paint all over our hands and the teacher (Miss Aliwell) dragging us both to the washroom and giving us both a good hiding. We were sobbing for ages afterwards.

Ps. When my son started school he said 'it was ok' I was pleased as he hadn't wanted to go.
But on day 2 he looked so shocked! ' I've been to school , Im not going again!! Lol

I literally begged to go to school age 4 like my older sister so mum asked the head and he said to give it a try lol. It went well I had hated being at home without sister around and I too could read and write, like many are saying. Loved the smell of a new exercise book remember it like yesterday but can't remember much else tbh 😊

In 1955 my Scottish teacher asked that any child who wasn’t born in England should come to the front of the class. When I told her that I was born in India, she then asked why I was called Heather! I didn’t say anything. On reflection, you would think that an educated teacher would have known something of colonialism and the British Raj. It’s funny how we remember certain things so many years later. We really did think of England as the mother country.

I remember sitting on a small chair and the teacher coming over to me. She towered over me and had another child with her. "This is K", she said. "I want you to look after her". Last year K and I celebrated our 80th birthdays. We went through primary and secondary school together, we took very different paths in life (one of us into arts and literature and a civil servant, one of us a scientist and dentist). We have lived far apart in different parts of the country and met up infrequently, but we have always kept in touch and still speak on the phone at least once a month. I can't claim to have looked after K as the teacher asked, but we have been, and remain, the best of friends.