A final slice of pre-war Preston schooldays

In this final post from the recorded recollections of pre-war Preston schoolchildren, the recollections touch on subjects that were routinely shrouded in silence or, if mentioned at all, treated as shameful. Again, the extracts from the article, titled ‘An oral history of schooling in Lancashire 1900-1950: gender, class and education’, are given verbatim


Lucy Nickson (see picture) and her friends from St. Mary’s RC Elementary, Brownedge, were not allowed to have boyfriends until they were at least 17, three years or more after leaving elementary school and even then relationships were closely patrolled, ‘It mostly started at Church then. You’d go to Benediction, you’d well, you’d go again and you’d go again’ She met her husband-to-be when she was twenty, and the courtship was conducted under family supervision according to the religious timetable:

You could go out at the week end and you could go out maybe one night in the week. More than that was, no you couldn’t do that. There was no such thing as going out every night… we could go out at the week-end and we could go to Thursday night Benediction and have a little walk and come home after, and that was as often as we could go out. But when it came Lent, when Lent started there would be Stations of the Cross on a Tuesday night. Well that was an extra night out wasn’t it? Just go to the Church and come home. So when it came to the end of Lent I can remember thinking, well mother might not take any notice, I would still go out on the Tuesday night which I did, I did. Tom’s mother had! She’d noticed… There was no need to go out on a Tuesday night when there wasn’t Stations of the Cross was there?

May be an image of 4 people and text that says "Lucy Nickson 's class at St. Mary's R.C. Elementary, Brownedge, Preston, c. 1920. Lucy is fifth from the left in the back row. Boys were separated from girls at St. Mary at the age of fseven."

One might have thought that girls’ schools, both elementary and secondary, would have had to acknowledge the fact that menstruation would affect their girl pupils, but few interviewees remembered any signs of such recognition. Those that were tended to be negative. Eileen Spencer remembers that during the 1930s the Park School sent a letter to parents requesting mothers to inform their daughters of the implications of maturity, mainly because her mother promised to tell her, but died before she could do so. Maude Mundy, a Park School pupil 1927-31, remembers:

Sitting out at gym when one was menstruating. In those days one didn’t go to gym, one sat out or lay on the backboard, which was a board with a hole for your head … One day I was sitting next to another pupil and we were doing nobody any harm. The headmistress came up and said in icy tones, ‘If you girls are sitting next to each other and you’re unwell kindly put a distance between you. Has nobody told you how disgusting it is to behave like that?’ — and stalked off.

One of the messages communicated by the silence of parents and teachers was that sex was shameful or even sinful. Some of the comments made in reply to questions about learning the facts of life suggest that this made a deep impression, particularly on women who went to Catholic schools. ‘You see the nuns did what was right and expected you to imitate them’, said Lucy Nickson who went to St. Mary’s RC Elementary, Brownedge, from 1917-1920. Dorothy Marcham said that at the Blessed Sacrament Elementary and at Lark Hill House in the 1920s and 1930s, ‘The word “sex” never ever was mentioned, let alone education on it. You knew what was right and wrong, which is what matters … I was taught none of the facts of life, but I did know what was right and wrong … she went into marriage ignorant, and dependent on her husband’s knowledge. Since knowledge is power, such ignorance and innocence, regarded as ‘feminine’ at the time, must have contributed to marriages unequal in at least one fundamental respect.

Nuns were no exception as Lucy Nickson who went to St. Mary’s Roman Catholic Elementary, Brownedge, Preston 1917-1928, recalled.

I can remember one, we called her Sister Theresa Benard, and she was fat and jolly and a very good singer, but she’d a temper too and you know how there wasn’t much room in the benches, between the rows, we were in rows in benches, two on each bench. Sometimes she would skip sort of sideways along these benches giving a clout as she went along.


You can find the full article here:
https://www.jstor.org/stable/40178956


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