1930s School Days

Thank you to alumna Anita Rose (class of 1943) who contacted us to share her school memories and reflections from the 1930s.

We were delighted to welcome Anita back for a tour of the school, and to record her stories in our archive, so that future students can find out more about being a South Hampstead pupil in different eras. Below is an extract from her biography about her South Hampstead school days:

And so to big school! I was outfitted in school uniform – a navy tunic, white blouse, orange and black tie, black stockings and navy blue knickers.  These knickers intrigued me as they had a pocket. It subsequently became clear that the pocket was for a handkerchief… I didn’t like that idea at all!  I also acquired a garment called a ‘bodice’ – a peculiar piece of underwear which went on like a sleeveless cardigan, buttoned down the front; on its bottom edge, back and front, another set of buttons on which to attach my ‘Jack and Jill’ suspenders, which in turn held up my fetching black stockings! Done up in all this finery, plus a black velour hat in winter, and a white panama in summer, each with an orange and black hat band, I was enrolled at South Hampstead High School for Girls, and began my education in Form Lower 1.

Whether or not I had to sit a test or exam I cannot remember, but if I had had to, I would surely have failed as I could neither read nor write! These days, children are taught much earlier and, unlike me, most can read and write quite fluently at the age of seven and a half which was the age I entered school.

I enjoyed the academic side of school, with a particular liking for English literature, composition and poetry. I found languages easy to learn, and did particularly well in Latin.

I do remember some very funny and embarrassing incidents from the cookery classes – funny to everyone else – but I can still feel the shame, even now, when I think of them. The bottom line is that, despite the distress of my Domestic Science teacher, who doubtlessly thought me clumsy and stupid, later in life I became a decent cook, and have always enjoyed cooking.

I was sometimes untidy, and often forgetful, many times paying my penny (out of my pocket money) to retrieve one or other of my belongings from the “lost property” cupboard. Occasionally, I was sent to Miss Potter, the Headmistress. I can’t remember the particular misdemeanors that found me quaking outside her study, with a number of other girls, waiting my turn. These falls from grace were duly recorded on my end of term report, and had to be explained at home.  My exam results were usually above average, with certain exceptions, and my end of term reports were quite good, but often contained remarks such as “writing untidy”, “could do better”, and “must try harder.  Our reports came by post, so there was no chance of our conveniently losing them, or looking at them before our parents.  My father was very ambitious for me scholastically, and praise was hard to come by – but very precious when it did. 

The school was divided into houses named after countries of the British Empire, and we wore coloured girdles to denote which house we were in.  I was in New Zealand (silver girdle) and we were bottom of everything! We were taught loyalty to our school, consideration for others, and the importance of helping those less fortunate; we were reminded that our behavior outside school was a reflection on the whole school. “Hat on straight, blazer or coat buttoned, socks up, shoe laces tied, walk quietly in the street no more than two abreast, and move aside to let adults pass”.  

There were prayers every morning followed by general assembly and announcements. We then stood in silence whilst the teachers left the hall, before heading back to our classrooms to a jolly march played on the piano.  It was considered to be an honour to play for this march, and those girls who were proficient pianists took it in turns. Heaven knows what came over me, but I got it into my head that I wanted to audition to play for the end of assembly march. For weeks, I practised Sousa’s ‘Marche Militaire’ until I considered I was ready. Somehow, I passed the audition and was put ‘on trial’ for one performance.

The appointed day arrived and, with burning cheeks and shaking hands, I climbed the steps to the platform. Hardly had I had time to put my music in position, when it was time to begin. I’m not sure whether Sousa would have recognised his march the way it was played that day! I got through it, but it was such a nerve-racking ordeal that I didn’t volunteer again. Many times during my life, I have found myself aspiring to achievements beyond my capabilities, and have grown to know my own inadequacies, but I have never forgotten my first, and last, public piano performance.  Needless to say, I removed ‘Marche Militaire’ from my rather sparse repertoire, and whenever I hear it played on the radio I cringe!

If you are a former pupil and would like to share your school days stories, please get in touch: alumnae@shhs.gdst.net