Every so often I go back to the Herculean stable-cleaning task of scanning my early negatives. Since I’ve failed to to it in a single day it’s one I’m chained to for the rest of my natural. Or at least until the scanner breaks down.
At the moment I’ve reached 1978, a year when I was working full-time – with preparation and marking over 60 hours a week during term-time – at one of this country’s largest and most disorganised comprehensive schools. Most of my teaching was elementary science, but I’d also set up an ‘O’ level photography course, and there were various odds and sods that filled up my teaching timetable, on top of which like everyone else on the staff I lost much of what should have been preparation time covering for absent colleagues including a steady stream of those whose nerves had been wrecked by the job.
Nowadays most of the stress in teaching comes from Ofsted, but then it was mainly from the kids, and there were a few periods on my timetable where whatever the official designation, it was made pretty clear that so long as I prevented the kids from major vandalism or causing themselves or others grievous bodily harm I could do what I liked with them. Should I manage to teach them anything it was a bonus, and I think there were a few useful skills that I was able to impart about filling in forms, claiming benefits and the like. And if it was nice weather we’d go out for a walk, though that too had its problems.
I didn’t often take photographs while I was at work, though I usually had a camera in my pocket, a Minox plastic folding clamshell thing, the smallest and lightest camera ever to use 35mm film, with a 35mm f2.8 lens and I think this picture, taken while I was on ‘break duty’ was made with that, though when I was teaching photography I would sometimes take in a Leica.
Some staff did break duty the easy way, taking a cup of tea to drink standing at one side of the yard and watching the kids kicking balls around, learning to ignore anything short of major insurrection. The more diligent (or stupid) of us ventured out into the peripheral areas of the fairly large school site, where mayhem of all sorts occurred (there were some schools where staff always picked up a walkie talkie for such duties, and we used to occasionally joke about picking up the AK47 as we left the staffroom, though I’d favour a blue beret. ) But these two youths are not really fighting, just indulging in a little of the horseplay that was the normal form of social intercourse amongst their group.
Possibly after photographing them (I took 3 frames, and the Minox was a pig to wind on, 2 strokes of a winder that sometimes took a great deal of pressure and really bit into your thumb in cold weather) I went over and told them to take it easy, perhaps not. I did occasionally have to break up real fights, though fortunately these usually attracted other staff to help me deal with the large crowd that always formed around them. And once I did have to take a knife off a 12-year old who waved it at me, but that was in class. Fortunately he had no idea how to use it.
There are several reasons why I chose to photograph from behind. It clearly place it in the context of a school, with the playground in the distance, and the branches in the foreground seemed to add something to the picture. But most importantly I was thinking about the right to privacy of the two lads in this picture, who were probably 13 or 14 when I took it. Hard to think that they are now in their late 40s.
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My London Diary : Buildings of London : River Lea/Lee Valley : London’s Industrial Heritage
All photographs on this and my other sites, unless otherwise stated are by Peter Marshall and are available for reproduction or can be bought as prints.
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