King Henry VIII Grammar School

Thanks for expanding this thread with more memories, Slim. You must be a contemporary of mine, or very close. I was in the Junior School 1960-64 and Senior School 1964-71. PM me if you wish to reveal your identity. I have already renewed one old school acquaintance through this thread. I never had too much of a problem with Maxie Gordon. He was actually quite a kind man underneath the exterior and, unlike many of the staff, had time for the boys in his care. I recall going on a skiing trip with him and many boys had never been away from home before, and everyone saw a different side to him. I also recall when I was about 13 I was off school for several weeks after a road accident, and he was the only teacher to bother, even though he wasn't my form teacher. He turned up at the house with a card signed by the class, plus some comics to read. He was one of the very few I ever had any respect for.

A tad lengthy, but worthy of a read (from the 2008 "Coventrian") Two Splendid Colleagues Max Gordon, b. May 8th 1908, and Ernst Kolisch, b. December 3rd 1901 were two redoubtable masters of staff for many years and it was they who embarked on the early postwar trips abroad, Max specialising in skiing trips, Ernst with members of the Parents' Association. They are remembered today with fond affection by so many, and these are but three of the tributes to Max who fled the Nazis in Germany and Ernst who escaped from Czechoslovakia: I learned all my Latin and half my Maths from these men. Of course, the period 1956-61 was one of a far more draconian style of teaching and learning and at times both could be quite scary. Even so, their human side was very evident, they were excellent natural teachers with a very amusing turn of phrase partly because of their continental background. Max would say: "Nelson, be quiet or I'll separate your breath from your body", while in reply to the request "Can I go to the toilet please sir?" he would reply "I don't know whether you can but you may". Kolisch would say "Watch the board while I run through it" and "You will line up in single lines of two". He looked after the distribution of milk from his beloved Wog-shed even through the winter months when the milk froze in the bottles. Bob Nelson (51-56) I have vivid memories of Max Gordon, none of which have anything to do with the learning of Latin. He was quite small and almost as wide with a bog-brush haircut and a selection of Parker pens in his breast pocket. I liked his sense of humour; even then he never took himself too seriously and though as strict as he could manage he was never malicious. He had only one punishment, the rarely-used but much-feared "walk around the magic garden," which involved holding a boy in a half-nelson and whirling him around the classroom. After that a run through a few Latin declensions was a breeze. He tried to persuade me to take Classics at A-level, but I couldn't stand the thought of incarceration in Room 203 with all those musty texts. A teacher of the old school even then, he would probably be sectioned under the Mental Health Act if he were alive today. I wonder what he would have thought of SATs ? I remember only two things about Ernst Kolisch, who died when I was in the Lower Fifth: his OXO tin, in which he used to carry his chalk and his board rubber and his cries of "Keep to ze left!" to the swarm of boys moving up and down the central staircase. Ordnung indeed. Paul Taylor (67-74) A.A.C. Burton once said to me: "Kolisch understood the English boy. Mr Gordon never did". I think that was true. I have - and had - a tremendous admiration for Ernst: warm, generous, honest, modest and with a sense of honour quite foreign to Max. This probably sounds unbelievable in view of his later reputation for seriousness, but I can remember at the end of one of his very first lessons in the school, when I was probably twelve, he got each of us in turn to come out in front of the class and 'pull a funny face'. And, of course, the distress he must have endured in the later years of his disintegrating marriage, culminating in his taking digs in Broad Lane, where he died can only be imagined. Night after night one would see him alone and lonely, walking the streets of Earlsdon. Do you remember the Suez crisis, when the staff, like the rest of the country, were bitterly divided? I remember one critical morning when he turned up in some sort of uniform, ready to serve immediately if he were called on to do so. The fact that he was taken in - as so many were - by Eden's comparison with Hitler, is irrelevant. With his personal knowledge of Fascism it was an issue which went to the very heart of everything he stood for. Further, my sadness is in recalling his loyal attempts to carry out the ideas of Allen Edwards and the 'new approaches' to the teaching of maths which came in after I left. I remember seeing him sadly carrying a tray of sand from one class to another, which was supposedly used to demonstrate some mathematical principle which was probably opaque to both of us. As regards Max, I remember his greeting to me when I joined the staff after my years as a pupil. "Ah, the criminal returns to the scene of the crime!" This I'm sure was not said with any ill-will but to demonstrate what he thought was a sense of humour, or wit, and his inwardness with the English language. Fred Holland (41-49) Ernst was always ready to volunteer his services and in 1947 he agreed to umpire a 2nd XI match against Bablake in spite of his very limited understanding and appreciation of the game of cricket. In the field he was moved tactfully from square leg to wicket and back again at the end of each over. After some fifteen minutes the Bablake opening bowler felt he had a legitimate claim for an lbw decision and shouted triumphantly; "How's that?", causing Ernst to turn and bark, "Speak ven you are spoken to, boy!" The last word should go to the late Derek Parnaby, who taught History at KHVIII from 1949 to 1961. This was inspired by Ernst's devotion to the distribution of break-time milk over many years: Please don't tear my milk-shed down, Millie has promised to pay. It vas built to last von hundred years, So please don't take it away. But they did. J.B.V.

Puts me in mind of Willie Rose. Knew his stuff, and I respected him as a brilliant teacher. Never got bored in his lesson, what with his anecdotes of the war, and his "silly" (sic) mnemonics, e.g. I can still remember the ne and the pas going together like Mary and her little lamb. The only thing I hated him for was for putting the whole class in detention, just because the class clown and his mates were pratting about at the back of the class, instead of dealing with the troublemakers directly. He was always doing it. I guess the theory was that the other incensed class members would beat the prats up. That's one thing the school was good at - bullying, and turning a blind eye to it. Even as a boy, I thought form detention showed incompetence on the part of the teacher, and should not have been allowed. I wish I'd had the guts then to bugger off home, and stick two fingers up to the place, as I would do now. But in those days everyone was scared of the teachers. I believe Willy retired just after I was expelled (only joking, left), and sadly died shortly afterwards. I understand he had been seriously ill, and off work long term before teaching me for the last two years. Maxy Gordon never taught me (funny how you avoided certain teachers completely through your school career - Droob was another one). He stood in for one Latin lesson when MBF was off sick. I recall his joke (or attempt thereat). "Vot is zee opposite of ego?" Answers like nos were wrong. "Zee opposite of aygo is ay come back!"

Which reminds me - you could get away with murder right under Willie's nose on the very front row (which is why I sat there). This is because 25% of Willie's concentration was on the lesson, and the other 75% was directed to the troublemakers, who always sat on the back row!

Midland Red, I have read this quote before, and I believe have commented on it too: "A.A.C. Burton once said to me: "Kolisch understood the English boy. Mr Gordon never did". I think that was true. I have - and had - a tremendous admiration for Ernst: warm, generous, honest, modest and with a sense of honour quite foreign to Max." I can only believe that he has got the two confused, as nothing could be further from the truth. As I have said before, Max Gordon was actually a kind and compassionate man who cared for his charges. The disciplinarian aspect was really a front as we found out in later years. I also remember Max's wife, Ruth, who was a delightful woman. Kolisch, on the other hand, was a deeply flawed character. He was cruel, spiteful and vindictive, particularly if someone was struggling to understand a point. Quite usual, given his heavily accented English. He used violence on a daily basis, usually a slap (or 'schmack') across the head, and knew there was no comeback in the style of a true bully. I never saw him utter a kind word to anyone, or make any act of generosity, and it was clear many of his colleagues weren't too keen on him either. He did have one friend, Barry Kench, a younger PE teacher who looked out for him in his flat and found him when he died. He now runs a B&B in the south, and told the whole story to a friend who is also ex-KHVIII when, by coincidence, he happened to stay there a year or two back

I think I'm a year or so younger than you Mister D-Di. I believe I went into Lower Prep B about 1963. I was too old for Transition, but remember Mrs Gates fondly. Miss Poulton was my first teacher at Henry. She was young and strict, and played the piano in assembly. Probably the hardest thing to get used to was being called by my surname. I'd had a forename in state school, and had been brought up to consider it rude to call people by their surname alone. Upper Prep was hosted by Mr Dobson, a gruffly spoken bloke with glasses (probably a northerner...?) My favourite junior school teacher was Mr Adams in the first year, who made all the lessons fun, entertaining, and interesting. So I never got bored, paid attention, and my position in class soared upwards, from middle of the road to the top six. A great bloke, strict only when necessary, he had sense of fair play, and a sense of humour which many of the others lacked. I'll PM you in due course.

TOJO asked for the remainder of the school song, so here it is. I found it in an interesting book about the history of the school from 1545 to 1945. A chapter about the period before 1945 was written by Mr Burton the head at the time, and has many interesting photos of the school after the bombing. Have Old Coventrians seen this book? It was printed for private circulation so possibly not many copies are around. Here's the school song (the other pages): The third verse also has a descant, though I imagine that might be a bit of a problem for the Old Coventrians on this forum. Finally here's the cover of the book I got it from:

Bunny Burrows taught us English in the 3rd form. He was one of the good teachers of whom nothing negative could be said. He asked us to write a short poem once. One of the kids wrote AEB Went to sea In a boat; Didn't float Bunny was amused by that. Sorry to hear he's passed on - he was one of the younger teachers. Unlike some of the older brigade, some of whom wore gowns and a permanent scowl, had no interest in the kids, or teaching, and shouted things like "You boy!" because they weren't interested in learning anyone's name. The latter lot looked as if they'd been at KHVIII ever since it was founded, and were only still there because they were waiting to draw their pension. Bugsy Leachman lived in room 6 if I recall correctly. He took us for RI (or was it RE?) in the 3rd form. He went bright red with embarrassment when the word uncircumcised came up in a bible passage, and he had to explain what it meant, which he did in as few words as possible. I think that was the only time during my 9 years at KHVIII that anything remotely connected to human sexual organs, or human sex, was ever uttered by a teacher. Bugsy was hard of hearing and had a hearing aid. One of the kids who was in the radio club and into electronics made a device which completely screwed up his hearing aid, and he spent the whole lesson fumbling with it in one of the classes, we were told.

We had Joe Soap for art in the fuzzers. A big bloke, rumoured to have served in the commandos, he was very strict. One didn't mess around or talk in his lessons. He also taught swimming. He was one of only two teachers listed not to have "academic" qualifications after his name; it simply said (Art) after his name. The other was Bert Stanger, the woodwork teacher, who had (City and Guilds). I vaguely remember some wags putting a music stand on the roof of the school hall.

About Terry Watson (Tic) I didn't go to King Henry VIII but as some of you were taught by or remember Terry Watson or (T.C (Tic) Watson) and Fred Holland who was mentioned by Midland Red, I thought you might be interested in some of this background information. I knew Terry from the Coventry Arts Umbrella (known as the Umbrella Club) in the late 60's / early 70's. I knew little about his background in the war years alluded to on here but out of school time, Terry was the leading light in the development and running of the Umbrella club. It was opened in 1955 by the Goons in Little Park Street and Terry became Vice Chair (later Chair). Terry held the Umbrella together over the decades and was an unstinting advocate when the Umbrella was under threat of demolition in 1972 - stressing the value of the 'cross-fertilisation of the arts' as well as the social and educational value of the club. Terry was a poet himself and although i don't have any of his poems - i heard him perform them at the Umbrella Club, Warwick University and the Belgrade Theatre. Some of the titles I remember were "What I Can't Properly Understand" "Locked In" "Imagine a Cave" "The Battle of Trafalgar" "And Another Thing" "How Her Hair Falls" From the mid fifties to early 60's Terry edited a prestigious literary magazine called Umbrella (see a cover pic here) which was influenced by 'the Movement', and Phillip Larkin (another KHVIII pupil) who was featured in one edition - an essay called Not the Place's Fault - in which he was tasked to explain his apparent put-down of Coventry in poem "I Remember, I Remember" The essay (with some evocative description of Coventry station and his childhood memories) is on the Umbrella site here along with lots of material that Terry was involved with. LINK Terry was quiet but very assiduous and encouraging of artists, poets and musicians. I would say he was a developer and certainly gave me opportunities to develop in many different ways - for eg he asked me to take over running the local band nights and later an experimental poetry and music session. This set me on a new path organising events and running a Coventry music magazine. Midland Red mentioned Fred Holland - another poet who Terry published in one of the Umbrella magazines on the Umbrella site. He quoted from Coventrian magazine. In one of the issues on line, Covetrian magazine mentioned an obituary to Terry Watson (which i couldn't find - be it would be interesting to see it if anybody can source it). A small group still keep the Umbrella Club going, meeting now at people's homes and their site mentioned Terry's passing in 2009 "After being in and out of Allesley Hall for a couple of years and gradually failing in eyesight, hearing and energy, Terrence Watson died on Monday, 1st June 2009 aged 88, a former teacher at King Henry VIII School and Tile Hill College" Hope that's of some interest. Here is a pic of Umbrella magazine as edited by Terry

Having read recent posts, I have a few observations. Slim, I was in Mrs Gates' class in the junior school, then Miss Jones, Mrs Collins and Mr Kennedy. I avoided being taught by DK Adams although for some reason he had a downer on me. This lasted until we went to Malvern on a school trip when he realised I wasn't such a bad lad after all. But it made me realise that at KHVIII it was 'every man for himself', a lesson that served me well over my years there. I agree that 'Bunny' Burrows was an excellent teacher, and a decent man. He taught me English for several years, and seemed to be one of the most popular teachers. I thought some of his colleagues thought him soft, but he was far more respected than most. I didn't know 'Bugsy' Leachman taught RE. We had him for geography for a few years and he was useless. Being deaf, he mumbled all the time so nobody had a clue what was going on. I remember at one time some lads had a radio playing at the back of room 6 for the racing and he didn't have a clue. He had a habit of leaving his keys in the door and people would lock him in. He would have to climb out of the window, by which time there was always a cheering crowd by the tuck shop.

Ah, fond memories of Tic's double art period on Friday afternoon - a great finish to the week. No academic input, just messing about with paint and paper, no homework, no tests... But I thought his name was Tony. A young (ish) lady met my Mum and me in Owen's cafe once, and asked if Tony Watson still taught there. I got the impression she had known him well. Tic was normally very calm, but following complaints from room 13 below his art room, he asked us to carefully place our chairs back so as not to make a noise. So one of the class clowns deliberately did the exact opposite, scuffing his chair backwards and forwards violently. Tic saw this and yelled at him. He finished up by saying "I'm bloody well fed up with you Archerman!" It was the first time we'd heard a teacher use a swear word.

Well we knew him as Terry and on the magazine his name was Terence. Interesting story about the art class though.

Ah, that means you were in the A class, probably a couple of years before I arrived. I knew Mrs Collins simply because she lived a few doors away from my house. We often got the same bus home. We used to join 1A for BBC radio broadcasts in Mr Kennedy's room. It was during one of those sessions that the news of the assassination of President Kennedy came in; quite ironic, the co-incidence of names. I guess Miss Jones took Lower Prep A. That's a new name to me. It was a Miss Hammersley when I was there.

You are correct. I was there 1960-64. I think Miss Jones retired and was replaced by Miss Hammersley. And I believe we were the first class to be taught by Mrs Collins in Upper Prep A the following year. I remember the two classes being together for the radio broadcasts, but my recollection of Kennedy's assassination is a bit different. It happened on a Friday and it was evening here. We were at home watching 'Take Your Pick' around 7pm when news broke. I do recall one lad, the class bully who was disliked by boys and staff alike, going up to Mr Kennedy first thing on Monday morning and saying to him 'I thought you were dead, sir!' He was promptly marched off to Mr Foster's office and given a detention, quite rare in the junior school.