Auto/Biographical Writing

Over the years, I’ve written many pieces of my own history, mainly as good practice and also as self-help. Often it is hard to know what you believe or understand until you have spoken or written the words yourself. I try to be a good listener to others but, in truth, I’m a better reader. So my strategy for self-awareness has stood me in good stead.

The Granddaughter Who Followed Her Grandmother to School

One such piece of autobiographical writing led to a poem several years ago. Yes, I am going to share it with you soon, Firstly, the back story…

In 1973, my maternal grandmother, Ruth, retired from primary school teaching. She had chosen to work beyond her allotted career span in order to enhance her pension rights. My grandfather had retired early through ill-health. He was a farmer who had no pension income.

Ruth had a long motherhood break from teaching planned when, during the Second World War she and many colleagues returned to the classroom to boost staff numbers depleted by the war itself. She remained in the same school until her retirement day in July 1973.

In September 1973, I began my three years of teacher training at a College of Education near Oxford (GCE A’Levels required but no degree necessary in my day). Gran gifted me all her school books and teaching aids. Her maths work cards were fabulous as the only reproduction method for materials back then was a Gestetner machine shared by the whole college population! This was akin to using Great-Grandmother’s laundry mangle with dirty black ink. Loathsome – long live photocopiers and home computing.

From Story to Poem

Three years led me
to replace your link
in the pedagogical chain.
As you ceased, I began.

You told me how to control
a sense of order and calm
in my workplace where small
co-workers could flourish.

You're the only one
I feel with me still.
Yours is the voice
guiding my will.

Your voice in my head
repeats your autograph words,
whispering the reminder,
"To thine own self be true".

Never will I let you go
until I proudly link hands again
with you, my grandmother,
the primary schoolteacher.

Copyrighted to Shirl Davis 2021

A Twist in This Tale

Ruth the teacher had returned to stay in the classroom. After a motherhood break of my own, I too returned. It was short-lived as my health caught up with me and I retired prematurely many years ago. However, nothing I learned from my grandmother, from my college tutors, my pupils and my colleagues has ever been wasted.