were once a feature of the education system in this state. The UK equivalent would have been the "secondary modern" type of school. We also had simply "high" schools - but they would not have equated with grammar schools. There were also the "area" schools in rural communities - the sort that Yours Truly attended. They had two "streams" which equated (sort of) with the high and the technical high streams.
No exams were required to enter high schools but the less able students were encouraged to attend the technical high schools. You could learn "useful" things there - like shorthand, typing, bookkeeping, metalwork, woodwork and much more.
Out in the area schools the PEB stream students could do one of those "useful" subjects as well.
I started out, at my mother's insistence, in the "dressmaking" class. I did not want to do dressmaking. I wanted to do "art". There was a unit called "history of art" and anything labelled "history" had me well and truly captured.
But no, "dressmaking" would be useful - never mind that I could not thread a needle. I hated it.
I was not the only one who loathed the subject. Every girl I knew detested the subject. It was appallingly badly taught. Most of us, even me, knew the basics before we started because it had been taught in primary school. We were not learning anything new and we already knew how to tack a seam.
My paternal grandmother had, along with a great many other things, taught me more than the basics. She would thread the needle and I would do the actual sewing. I could use her old treadle Singer. I knew about more than one sort of seam and what they were used for. I understood how to read a pattern and I could, with a little help from her, actually draft a pattern from the old "Enid Gilchrist" books. What is more she had taught me how to alter such patterns to fit. In school we were back to making pillowcases, aprons and gathered skirts. Grandma had taught me to sew a button on (and Grandpa - a tailor - approved the method). At school I was told that this was "wrong".
The teacher gave up on me pretty quickly and I and another student spent peaceful Tuesday afternoons in the science lab of all places. There we used a clear space and did our "art". I devoured history of art while she drew complicated "technical drawing" designs. We both did something called "creative drawing" and "design". Looking back I am amazed that two twelve year old students were allowed to be there unsupervised. I suppose it was safe enough and that the Senior Cat (who happened to be the headmaster) knew we would not play with the test tubes. I doubt he would have let boys do the same thing.
The other girls went on doing the hated sewing. I suppose their mothers insisted. I can't help wondering whether any of them actually sew now.
I was reminded of all this yesterday when there was a plaintive wail from Ms W. Her boarding house supervisor has always insisted that Ms W and all others do their own mending.
"I can't find the button! It came off somewhere else."
"Bring it home this weekend and use a button from the old top," I told her.
"Matron says we have to do it at school."
"Matron will let you do it at home. She knows very well I won't do it for you."
And she does too. If it passes my inspection Matron will be happy.
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2 comments:
Oh , those primary school sewing lessons. I hated them. Dad was at the school and I probably embarrassed him when the sewing teacher related my questions, many of which she could not answer. I was after proper answers but got “that is the way it was done.”
As o High School, those different types sound familiar fromthat time. I went to a selective high school, selective since building in 1930 and still selective now. Bliss. No sewing lessons although the bottom two classes from seven did sewing. Mum admired the sewing, even though she did not sew herself. I was in top class enjoying different languages.
I did make my own clorhes but that was a separate learning process quite different to the silly stuff learnt in primary.
Oh, yes, Home Ec here included sewing. We made an apron and maybe a gathered skirt in grade 7 and an item of our choice (but had to be teacher approved) in grade 9. I had been sewing doll clothes on a small hand cranked sewing machine since I was six and started sewing my own when I was 11 or 12. So, so boring in school.
I didn't think much of the cookery semester either since Mom had gotten in ahead of them there, too. On the other hand, my teacher did cover aesthetics (??) of a planned meal -- a variety of colors, textures, temperatures on the plate. To this day, (over 50 yrs later) I will sometimes look at the dinner plate as I hand it to my brother and comment on whether it would be a Miss Boston type of meal or not. So I did take something from her class.
And having absolutely nothing to do with today's post... I thought of you immediately when I read this just now...
"Ann notices the absence of the Mainer ayuh of agreement, thinks of how in communities like Ansel, the breaking down of their colloquial language is often the first sign of a town in danger of “irrelevancy.” You lose the language, you lose the history. Sense of place. Tradition. Cultural Anthropology 101."
Dykes, Amanda. Whose Waves These Are (p. 54). Baker Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.
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