Don't Fly Too Close to the Sun

Primary schools probably unwittingly shape the mental health and attitude of their pupils.  Children who go to certain Prep schools grow up with a sense of entitlement; they know they are the best and therefore only the greatest things will come to them.  My school was a bit different from that.  I was left feeling as though it wasn't seemly to be too good at anything, that trying hard and succeeding against the odds was more important than anything that comes easily and that you will be horribly disfigured if you had firework parties.  I made all of these assumptions from school assemblies.

I liked assemblies.  They were a chance to practise sitting cross legged on the floor in a way that takes up the most possible room.  (I can see now that this was an early love of Yoga)

Sukhassana - or the assembly pose.

You could drift off and have your own thoughts for 20 minutes at the beginning of the day and wake yourself up with a bit of a sing.  I feel sorry for today's children who don't start their day with an assembly to wake up but have to wait until the afternoon, when they are already awake and have to actually listen.  As a consequence of the early morning assemblies I can only remember a few.  The first I remember, is the annual firework assembly.  Each year they would show us pictures of horribly disfigured children.  I particularly remember one, where my teacher talking about a pupil she taught who had a firework blow up in her face and the delight this teacher, in her floral skirt and comfortable shoes (that is the only bit of a teacher you see when sitting cross legged on the floor), expressed as she paced up and down the length of the hall describing injuries in full horrific, technicolour detail.  I also remember how guilty I felt later in the day when she tried to open the vertical blind and it fell off the wall and hit her on the head, causing it to bleed and her to be rushed off to hospital.  You might think that I had no reason to feel guilty but all through the assembly I was thinking, "I hope something horrible happens to you and someone enjoys telling everyone about your injuries."

The second assembly that stuck in my mind was the one about someone from the war who had their legs blown off and when he overheard the nurses saying that he couldn't survive he decided to get better.  This was given by our headmaster, who was rather keen on corporal punishment.  I remember the boy sitting next to me who was already well acquainted with Sir's slipper saying, "I bet he would have beaten that man for not trying to walk even if he was sat in bed the next Shakespeare play."

The final assembly I remember from my Junior school days was one given by a new headmaster, who arrived in my final year.  We all called him 'Baggy Adams' because he always wore the same pair of brown trousers that had a rather saggy bottom (again, the view we had of him from the floor). He told the story of Icarus.  I think he probably went through lots of Greek Myths because I remember tormenting my little sister by telling her that her hair was all snakes and that she better not look at me because she would turn me to stone.  The story of Icarus struck a chord with me, though. The idea that you could get into trouble if you tried to be more than you were destined to be; that flying too close to the sun could only end in disaster; your wings would melt and you would come crashing to the ground, has stayed with me for all of my life.  

I fear that I am flying a bit too close to the sun at the moment I can feel my wings might be about to melt.  What if someone finds me out?  Soon, someone will realise that I'm a fraud; that I'm making it all up as I go along; that I'm just lucky to be working with talented children.  

If only I'd gone to a school where they told stories in assembly of Hercules and Theseus but then I would probably end up like the ex-chairman of the Co-operative Bank and really have something to hide when I finally get found out.