David & Goliath?

By Neville Jenkinson

Editor's note: The writer tells of an event that takes place in England, in the early 50's. It is an amusing and eye-opening insight to another time and place. (Please keep in mind that this event took place before our current ban on smoking...)

In 1953, I attended a school for partially sighted children in Liverpool, England. The unit comprised of five classrooms that had previously belonged to a once larger primary school. Our ages ranged from 5yrs to 16yrs, each group included a two-year age range with about 12 pupils in each class.

This sort of unit had been decreed to be the answer to educational problems arising from our demise and segregating us from main stream pupils would allow us to develop better within the restrictions of the particular handicap. We were an odd assortment of both sexes and an even odder assortment of physical and educational abilities.

These specialised units were soon filled. When doctors visited ordinary schools and found a child with poor sight, the child was immediately transferred to the nearest special unit. Thank Goodness the experts today believe it is of more advantage to integrate children with a handicap into ordinary schools. In a city as large as Liverpool this could and usually did mean a lot of travelling each day.

With such few people to choose from it was difficult to make up teams for sports of any description. The lack of pupils from which to choose meant that just making up the numbers necessary to play was a problem.

Our usual method was adopted when it came to selecting the athletes to enter the Annual Special Schools Sports competition. This event was the highlight of our sporting calendar and involved schools from all over Liverpool. Competition was fierce, but for second place rather than to win. This was because the result was a foregone conclusion.

The school for the deaf always won! It was a large school with residential and day pupils. They held their own elimination events that took place after a year of training, since the last day of the year before. Their team was formidable. They were not only good, but they looked good in their all-green stripe and disciplined presentation.

The whole approach was like a military operation. We thought they were a little reminiscent of the Hitler youth!

A 'Special School' in the context we are talking about was a specialised unit for other than physical disabilities, slow learners, hearing, vision and such like. Most of the other competing schools were quite a lot bigger than us, but they were not so well organised as our deaf friends.

The big day was approaching. We did not earn our events, they had been allocated to us. I, like my teammates, would be entered in a number of these; 100yds, long jumping and fourth leg in the relay because I was tall with quite long legs and would not have a go at anything else!

The only excitement aroused by the forthcoming event was an afternoon out of school and for us older pupils the chance of an illicit smoke or two! This attitude had developed from a number of visits to these sports and no one ever needing to have been aware of our attendance from our performance.

We did try. We had practised a few times on the field near the school, but it was not very flat. The grass, where it grew, was very long. These conditions, because of our disability usually finished with a fall and accounted for us all having large scabs on our knees, of like team badge!

It had been intended that we changed into our gear on arrival, but were told that we would not be able to do this because we had no changing room space allocated us. As we would be walking the couple of miles to the grounds, this would mean exposing ourselves to the general public while changing.

I, and some of my teammates, had no intentions of embarrassing ourselves in this way, so we told the head mistress that we had no shorts and our parents had no money to buy us any. We were allowed to wear our usual long trousers and it was decided that we must compete in them.

It was a 'Dad's Army' team that left the security of the school on the big day. The "highly-trained and motivated" team of athletes trailing reluctantly behind the erect head mistress and her deputy. The procession eventually spread itself out sufficiently for the more mature team members to sneak a cigarette break which would calm raw nerves and help concentrate our thoughts to the job in hand.

This was quite a tricky maneuver bearing in mind our poor vision. We needed to be far enough behind the rest of the group in case a well-meaning member of the public reported us to the head mistress. And yet, not so far to enable us to see if she turned to look in our direction. This sort of emergency called for a slick double action. The cigarette hand moving swiftly behind the back and the placing of a reassuring smile on the face.

The atmosphere on the field was excited, but tense and apprehensive. Animated chatter and frantic sign language. The loudspeaker was calling the competitors together and appealing for lost entrants. Our little team huddled together for support.

There were important decisions to be made such as "Do I leave my specs off and hope for the best, or risk having your performance impaired by self-consciousness?" The latter was also evoked by sartorial comparison.

Our lot looked more like a comedy team than an athletic one. No two pairs of shorts or skirts were the same colour, shape, or length. No more than two fitted properly. Tops ranged from Airtex vests, grey, to short sleeved jumpers as well as the aforementioned long trousers, complete with turn-ups (American editor's note: cuffs)!

As the afternoon progressed, our heads began to lift a little. We held second place in a number of events and third in others. We even held first in a few.

This observation was noted by Billy who then followed his words up with his customary twitch of his nose, which he said was a reflex action against the imaginary feeling that his specs were falling off while he was talking. The twitch was immediately followed up with an index finger pushing the bridge of his specs back into position.

These placings all scored points. The school for the deaf seemed to be off form and other schools, like ours, crossed the line before them.

The loudspeaker seemed to be booming, but it was probably because everybody was so much quieter whilst they waited with nervous tension for the imminent results. Billy twitched his nose and pushed his specs back into position. And then, did it again, and again, until the announcement of the results began.

"In third place with ... points is the ....... School for the Deaf".

Moans & gasps...

"The runners up were... ."

Some cheers...

"This years winners are..."

The announcement was greeted with some polite applause, but the question they were mostly asking was "Who are they??"

Yes! It was us!!

Billy became so animated with his twitching nose and repeatedly placing his forefinger up to his imaginary glasses, like a piece of process machinery in a factory. Our Head Teacher now stood so erect that she almost fell over backwards.

There was an extra spring in our step on the way back to school and so there should be. It really was quite an achievement.

It was hardly necessary to be vigilant as we enjoyed a well-earned smoke. "Well, what's the use of winning if you can't celebrate", said Billy as he pushed his specs back into place nonchalantly with a fag in the same hand.