'My First Day at Slater Street School' by Marina Jeavons

Slater Street School lay on the outskirts of Darlaston right opposite the public baths and near to rough, open and hilly ground that was a favourite playground for us kids.
It was a red and grey brick building that adjoined the senior school.
My life there was very happy.
I started school in September 1939 when I was almost five and just as war with Germany was declared. From the very first day I loved it.
I remember being taken to school that first day by my mother. That was the only time she accompanied me. I always went on my own after that, until my brother started school, that is, then I became the parent.
I vividly recall sitting at my desk that first day and feeling important but apprehensive, I ran my fingers along the pen and ruler place and around the ink well and wondered how anyone could have dared to scratch those initials in the desk top lid. Then Miss Fullwood entered.
She sashayed into the room. A tall, slender dark-haired lady with her hair swept up at the front and a little knob of hair caught up with pins at the back. She was wearing a green shiny sort of dress which came almost to her ankles and some sort of laced boot. There was some frilly white stuff around her neck. She was smiling serenely.
“Good morning children,” she boomed. 'Silence! I said 'Good morning children.”
This time a stutterings of “good mornings” greeted her.
“That’s better.” She smiled and school life began.
We sat in stupoured silence while she gave us all a brown pencil and placed a piece of lined paper with our name on it, clearly and carefully printed, on the top of our desks. I remember watching carefully as she formed the letters of the alphabet on the blackboard which was positioned on the wooden easel. I was enthralled - I was going to learn to write.
Next we were given a small chalkboard and we had to sit patiently while the teacher went round the class writing each child’s name on their own chalkboard. Then Oh Joy! Miss Fullwood beckoned to me and indicated with a smile that I was to give everyone a piece of chalk. I was smitten. From then on I was her slave, following every instruction avidly.
We were encouraged kindly to copy our names, again and again. I was left-handed and Miss Fullwood tutt-tutted at this as she endeavoured to encourage my efforts at forming letters. There was total silence in the classroom that first day (not always so later) as we all sat in a sort of fear of uncertainty and apprehension.
I can’t remember how long it was before I achieved the ultimate aim of writing my name with my lead pencil, but I do remember the glow of pride when I did so.