King Henry VIII Grammar School

One of the lessons was, after lunch, a double period with Froggy. There was never any natural break or let-up. The time dragged whilst Froggy was talking to the blackboard for protracted periods. My mind use to wander, and my exercise book, that is the part of it that had been used for earlier exercises, gradually filled up with doodles, in particular logos such as BSA, Norton, Triumph etc. When in later life I had to do presentations or training courses, I was given guidance on the basics of teaching or lecturing. There was a useful little textbook, and one of the things it said, which was later echoed on a business studies course, is that the maximum time you should talk at students, before giving them a break such as a practical task or group task, is 20 minutes; any longer and the average brain numbs over. That rule never applied at KHVIII. Anyway, back to my untidy French exercise book. Froggy never said a word. But the odd thing is that at the end of one of Kitty's Latin lessons, he called me to his desk and asked me to show him my French exercise book, which took me by surprise. He thumbed through it, and just gave a disapproving "errm..." before handing it back to me. I wonder how he knew!

I like the one where the logic was reversed: an irate tree bawling at the other trees in the park "I dunno. Might as well go inside an' talk to a row of Foghorns!".

I always thought that Froggy Irwin lived in Leamington during my time at school, 69-75, since whenever I had to take the bus and I caught it from the De Montfort stop in Kenilworth. and he would always be already on it. He always sat on the top floor near the back, smoking and never saying a word or acknowledging anyone or anything. I and a few others smoked and we did it quite openly in front of him and he never once said a word. He seemed as a personality a complete nonentity. He may have been the life and soul of the party in his private life, but at school he was easy to ignore and forget.

I must be the only one who doesn't recall Foghorn and his 'talk to the trees' expression. I do remember his dreadful scribble across three blackboards and trying to keep up with copying it before he wiped board one and started all over again. I always found Froggy Irwin a decent sort. I seem to remember him cycling to school with his battered old briefcase over the crossbar. I believe he had quite an attractive (and possibly younger) wife? A few other teachers we might like (or not) to remember... Dave Cooper (English) Bob Griffiths (Maths) Thunderguts McGawley (Geography) Rod Markley (Physics) Fairy Light (Physics) Slug Hughes (Biology) Dickie Dawson (Geography)

A few things to consider there, Slim. It certainly sounds like the history teacher you had was Farrar. I think his first name may have been Mike. I can certainly see where the 'Illya' nickname came from although I can't recall him being called that by my lot. I'd say it would have been about 1968 so the timing was right. Your memory of Newitt is probably right too, he was an insignificant little fellow with little aptitude for teaching. I don't know why Foghorn sticks in the memory as he never taught me. I know he had a reputation though. He was apparently the best cricketer on the staff, according to another teacher he was the star of the staff team with 'every shot in the book'. I am amazed that you recall that particular caricature drawing. It was actually of him bawling at the row of trees on Top Green with the caption: "Done yer homework trees? Course you haven't! Might as well go inside and talk to a row of ******s" (The asterisks are the name of the artist, which was actually 'Forgotten most of this'. He was very talented. If ever I find out how to post a photo on here I will put it up. Bags, you seem to have had the same experience of Froggy Irwin as many others. He was almost robotic and I suspect he churned out the same lessons every year for his entire career. A few of us homed in on his appearance which was as if he slept in shop doorways. I recall a particularly awful, crumpled corduroy brown jacket which he must have worn to destruction. He didn't live in Leamington. He actually lived in Ash Drive, Kenilworth.

Never heard of Cooper or Markley, but the others all taught me apart from Fairy Light, who joined in my last year. He attended our house assemblies (Whites). He later left and taught at Woodlands, where I believe he stayed until retirement.

I certainly remember most of those. I had no experience of Markley or Light as far as I know. Dave Cooper was a young tall chap with a mop of curly fair hair. He taught me English for one year, around 1968. His most remarkable feature was a very pronounced lisp which made him difficult to understand on occasions. A decent enough bloke as I recall. I was taught maths by Bob Griffiths for a year in the 6th form. He played rugby for Coventry which, knowing KHVIII, was probably a factor in him getting the job, as he was actually quite a poor teacher who had little personality, a droning voice, and was poor at getting his subject across. If you didn't understand something - tough! Thunderguts McGawley was often thought of as a hard man but I always preferred him to any of the other PE teachers, some of whom were just downright sadists. McGawley at least took the time to teach the rudiments of various sports. Gerry Barrell and Barry Kench were quite unpleasant characters. I didn't encounter Geoff Courtois at all. Barrell was one of those PE teachers who pretended to have a second subject and 'taught' us geography for a year. He was like a fish out of water away from the gym. Slug Hughes taught me biology for most of my time at KHVIII. I look back and think it was a miracle I got both O and A levels. He was one of the old retainers looking towards retirement. By the time we got to A level exams we had covered about two thirds of the syllabus which meant we had little choice of questions. The reason was that he would drone on, sometimes for a whole double period, about his other interests such as photography or being a quaker. Even when it was obvious nobody was listening he just kept on going. For A level everyone did a two week field trip to Scotland, jointly with Bablake. Slug let the other teachers do all the work, occupying himself with supervising and testing the food coming out of the kitchens. Dickie Dawson was a rarity among the more senior staff, someone with a genuine rapport with pupils. He taught me General Studies in the 6th form and was an enlightened and interesting chap. Even at 6th form level he was about the only teacher who made an attempt to use first names.

I remember Thunderguts for one reason, one swimming lesson (was it in fuzzers when we went to Foleshill baths before the city pool was built?) he bawled at me so loudly and frighteningly I learned how to dive into the water by default because so absolutely terrified by him. However I turned out to be quite a good swimmer (might even have been in the team for one term) so there's an irony. Slug sticks in the mind for his attempt at the facts of life lecture. Basically he was rather sweet because he said that we might not have a girlfriend now but shouldn't worry too much through adolescence because there WAS a female for everyone and different people mature at different rates, so don't get a complex about it. I do remember sitting there and looking at Slug with his huge gut, ragbag clothes and visage and wondering what type of woman there was for him.

MrD-Di I agree completely with everything you've said except for Bob G. I had him for just one term in the first year sixth, for O-level maths retake. Yes, after 3 years of Jack Wrench not teaching us maths, nearly everyone in the class failed. This was one O-level I expected to pass (unlike biology). In fact it was the only O-level I ever failed. Judging by Wrench's changed, i.e. bitter, attitude to us after the exam results, I expect he was subject to an enquiry that made him uncomfortable. He had spent at least half of the 3 years talking about his hobbies, photography, cameras, projective geometry etc., with interesting drawings on the blackboard, and not covering the maths syllabus. I didn't feel too bad as only about 5 or 6 boys passed the O-level. I thought Bob was a great teacher. No waffle, no clouding the subject in mystique to make himself look clever, just straightforward explanations that instantly made sense. He taught me more maths in one term than Wrench had in 3 years. He would put something on the board, and after explaining it, instead of asking if we had understood it, his oft-repeated turn of phrase was "is that all right?" Word was that he had an attractive wife, and the lads used to refer to her as "a bit of is that all right?"! Thunderguts was fair. He knew at once that I was useless at games and PE, and quietly made allowances, i.e. did not sadistically expect too much of me (Kench) or try to make me look inferior in front of the other boys. Barrell took us for PE and geography in the fuzzers, so that was two ways we didn't see eye to eye, but he was never nasty or vindictive. He had a funny accent (Wiltshire, someone suggested), and came in for a lot of impersonations. He could not remember names: "come here boy, give you a slap boy, teach you a lesson boy", one of the impersonations went, that had us in fits of laughter. Like you, I never encountered Courtois. We got the impression Slug was a lifelong bachelor. He would spend a lot of time on slideshows of the countryside and views, taken when he had been touring the UK in his car. Dickie was very decent, considering geography was another subject I just didn't do. He had a younger son, who once a week in our afternoon lesson, would tap the door, Dickie would let him in, and the young lad would disappear behind the curtain into the book lobby, which was part of Dickie's room in the old building, next door to Piggy's office if I recall correctly. Because of the timing, I suspect his lad was in the junior school, as they finished before us.

FMOT, sounds like we were in the same year. In the fuzzers, we started at Livingstone Rd for a couple of terms, then Fairfax Street which had just opened. But Thunderguts never took us - it was always Joe Soap.

I also did swimming for the first couple of years as I couldn't swim. Even after all their 'efforts' I still couldn't, and didn't learn until I was about 20. We went to Livingstone Road at first, going by bus and paying 4d admission. The teacher was definitely Joe Soap, although I have a feeling Thunderguts deputised a couple of times. In the 3rd form Bugsy Leachman took over, and at some point we went to the new Coventry Baths where it cost 6d! At least Bugsy did get into the pool, something Joe Soap never did. Thunderguts knew I wasn't interested in the sports the school did, especially rugby and droobing, but I did make an effort in PE. He did actually take time to teach me how to shoot a basketball, something that proved useful as, after leaving school, I played the sport at a decent level until I was in my 40s. I also remember Slug's lecture that you mention. It was fairly ludicrous coming from him as he was a bachelor for his entire life. Perhaps he was just being over-optimistic on his own chances! A harmless sort of chap though. He lived in Maidavale Crescent, as did a number of teachers at that time. He had Alfie Crocker living across the road and Thunderguts just round the corner..

Yes, Joe Soap did the swimming, remember his big loud check sports jackets and big yellow knitted ties, a huge square bloke with the face of a boxer who liked a tipple. But on this occasion it was Thunder in his tracksuit for whatever reason. Joe never shouted like that, but I think that if he really did want to intimidate us he could have done a better job than even Thunderguts.

"...liked a tipple" At an open day (evening event for parents) in the fuzzers, my father said to me "who's that big bloke over there, is he a teacher?". It was Joe S. He then said "he's a boozer - that means a heavy drinker - I can tell by his face".

Joe Soap was the only art teacher I ever had at KHVIII. He was actually a decent teacher and managed to teach me a few techniques even though I had limited talent at the subject. His domain was room 105 where the desks were arranged around the room in a large rectangle, with Joe's desk at the far end. Most of the time he would let you get on with what you were doing and help where necessary. He was usually quite patient with those lacking talent. However, just occasionally you would get him on a bad day. When he was in a mood you knew about it. He would use his booming voice, bang a large ruler on his desk, and sometimes pick out a lad for intimidation. Joe was apparently a former paratrooper and you wound him up at your peril. I remember him, when he must have been long retired, walking around his home at the Park Paling in Whitley. We used to play football on Whitley Common some Sunday mornings and I noticed him a few times. He did look like he may have enjoyed a drink or two and I imagine he was probably good company at the pub. He was always the only teacher at the school without a degree and was invariably listed on the staff rota in the Coventrian as 'J Stephenson (Art)'.

Not quite the only one MrD-Di. I believe that 'Bert' Stanger the woodwork teacher hadn't got a degree. Joe Soap was my form master (Lower 5ths I think) he was OK. Like you, I learned a few good drawing techniques from him: they certainly put me in a good place when I had to do technical drawing at tech'.