Name recall has always been a challenge for me, so after sixty years it is interesting that I can remember the name of the ten-year-old girl that sat next to me at school. Doreen introduced me to a Christadelphian Sunday School: “I’m going on an outing to the seaside with the Delfins,” she proudly announced.
Now this was post-war Britain, struggling with extreme austerity measures. Those who were fortunate to possess a car had to cope with petrol rationing, so journeying to the coast from the central city of Birmingham was but a dream. Never backward in coming forward, I pleaded to accompany her. “They only let you go if you belong to the Sunday school,” came her curt reply. That was the carrot that enticed the registration of a new scholar!
My atheist parents were somewhat bemused, but the teachers were traumatized by the disruptive behavior of this child who had a learning disability and received negative attention by acting out. Running around the room and hopping over the desks to enjoy the horrified looks of the more demure pupils was not something to be tolerated. Dear sweet Aunt Dorothy resigned (still a course of regret to the protagonist). The superintendent delivered an ultimatum: “Behave or no outing!” The admonition was gentle and empathetic; very unusual to one hardened by frequent beatings at regular school and at home. The result was a desire to please and a subsequent interest in the lessons. To everyone’s surprise, not least my own, I achieved the highest marks at the end-of-term examinations and was presented with first prize. The process was repeated during the next four years. My low self-esteem improved, and my confidence was elevated, and success spilled over to regular school activities.
The Small Heath Ecclesia, founded in 1878, was very active in the 1950’s. Canvassing by teachers and word of mouth insured that many attendees came from non-Christadelphian homes. The curriculum included the annual outing to the coast on a bus called a charabanc1, picnic, sports day, and prize-giving with plays depicting Bible stories. At the end of the year there was a wonderful Christmas party where both teachers and pupils took part in humorous skits. Parents were encouraged to attend and even my skeptical father was impressed.
We all loved the teachers, who, although kind and interested in the children, nevertheless brooked no nonsense. Lessons were well prepared and presented. The hymns were appropriate for young people and we sang with gusto, straining our necks in order to see the words displayed on a big board at the front as hymn books were scarce. Sometimes Uncle John accompanied us on his trumpet. Then to our dismay we were told that he was very ill and was mentioned in the prayers. We cried when it was announced that Uncle John had died, being only twenty years old. The opportunity was taken to introduce the hope of resurrection and everlasting life; a lesson I never forgot.
All of this came to a halt when I was fourteen. My father found me intently scanning the sky. When I explained that I was looking for Jesus who was to come in the clouds, he was horrified: “You’re not going there any more to have your head stuffed with such rubbish!” So that was the end of my Sunday school experience.
But the seed had been planted, and, by the providence of the Lord, throughout my teens and early professional life I came into contact with many Christadelphians. I was a staff member at the Christadelphian nursing home when Bro. John Carter, then editor of the Christadelphian, finally prepared me for baptism, building upon the foundations laid down at Sunday school.
- Charabanc (pronounced SHAR uh ban) literally means a carriage with wooden benches. The earliest ones, quite common in Britain in the early part of the 20th century, were open-topped, horse-drawn vehicles. Sis. Bartle assures us that she does not go back that far! “By my day,” she says, “the bus was enclosed but very primitive and bumpy; we loved every minute of the journey, singing hymns and songs all the way! What is more, we had an ice cream, something unknown during the war years.”
The Origin of the Organic World – Part One