大象传媒

I don't know how you managed at school?... Some folk are bright and ride an academic crest through school. In my experience, these were usually the fat kids with glasses. They were never picked for the 鈥榯eam鈥� of whatever it was but grudging envy and respect were theirs in class. I was not one of these.

Then there was the raw lumpen sportives. In this band could be found the bullies who were always at severe disadvantage in the classroom but who could punch and rend and tear without fear or favour out of school. They were not to be crossed and in fact, in the 'must win at all costs' world of sport, which applauds the winner but takes no account of the individual physical differences, they were even given respected status. I was also not one of these.

So then, where did I fit in to this tableau of the clever and the strong? I guess I never really found out. From the day Mum dropped me off at Braintcroft Junior School, I swam confused and terrified in a sea of incomprehensible experiences that made my days a misery. Late in my Air Force career I became an above the average flying instructor and qualified as an exceptional lecturer in helicopter aerodynamics. I mention this only to show that I know something about teaching and learning.

I know of the principle of moving from the known to the unknown, to build on known facts to create understanding. It seems that my first month at school, so full of fear and anguish, failed to register: any of it! Thus the second month came and washed over me, finding no footing on which to build. And so my schooldays continued, others around me scaling the heights of academe as I withdrew from the race, until, totally unprepared, I staggered out into the world of men. It reads as a dismal story but there were some glimpses of light down different corridors.

I was, as they termed it, 'mechanically minded' with an intense interest in how things worked. I always contrived to have a workshop, no matter how small. Around and just after this time of which we speak, I was making crude steam turbines and engines instead of homework: I made a violin, a working refrigerator, a recording machine that croaked 鈥淢aaaary鈥� after my hero Thomas Edison. Fireworks and gunpowder, acetylene gas from carbide, found behind the British Oxygen Factory mar the Welsh Harp. Endless flying model aircraft, many of my own design and miniature lead acid accumulators. In my early teens, the triumph was a small car driven by an ancient gas engine with home made clutch an' all. Yes, I was certainly mechanically minded! The other interest of note is that, without any specific act on my part, I was the gang leader. Brownie, Baz, Rolfie, Bushell et al. would, it seemed, turn to me to select the next adventure; so I came to realise that we- all of us, have a place to fill in life.

This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by Becky Barugh of the 大象传媒 Radio Shropshire CSV Action Desk on behalf of Raymond John Lawrence M.B.E and has been added to the site with his kind permission. Mr Lawrence fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

Continue reading Mr Lawrence's story by clicking below:

• 1) At the beginning鈥�
• 2) Life in the shelters
• 3) 鈥極ur Gang鈥�
• 4) We barely made it
• 5) We kids were all pretty well behaved
• 6) We had our fair share of attention from the Luftwaffe
• 7) The 鈥楪olden Couple鈥�
• 8) An evening鈥檚 entertainment
• 9) The 鈥楿nderpant鈥� Episode
• 11) The School Song
• 12) I wonder鈥�

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