The day I started

In my third year at college, I applied to Liverpool LEA for a teaching post but had no intention of taking it up because I intended to stay at college and study for  the new B.Ed degree. Once I'd completed my fourth year B.Ed course, I was ready and eager to accept the offer Liverpool had made of a job.

In those days, Liverpool placed  new teachers in what they called the "pool". When the Authority knew of the vacancies in their schools, they informed you as to which school you had been allocated.

In my case I, was allocated a post as Assistant Art teacher at Anfield Comprehensive School, Breckside Park. The Head Teacher, a Mr Prothero, sent me a letter confirming the appointment and added a note saying he looked forward to meeting me the day before term was due to start. Satisfied that my career as a teacher was about to begin, I got married and went on honeymoon.

When I returned to England, I found a letter waiting for me from Bert Holmes,  the Deputy Head at Anfield, informing  me that the Headteacher who'd written to me  had died. The letter went  on to say that he was now the Acting Head. It crossed my mind that seeing off a  Head Teacher was a not a good start to my career.

On the appointed day I went to see my school for the first time. After a bus journey through the demolished area along West Derby Road, I arrived at Anfield Comprehensive School to be greeted by Mr Holmes. Having just lost the Head Teacher, the school was in a little bit of a turmoil. Still, the Acting Head seemed pleasant enough and he dutifully showed me to the room where I was to teach.

On the way up to the fourth floor, where the Art rooms were placed it became clear that Mr Holmes didn't have a lot of regard for the department I was about to join. When I arrived at my room, it was obvious why.

The Art room at the school where I was taught brimmed with materials. There were all sort of different types of paint, brushes in every size and quality, papers in various weights and colours along with equipment for a whole range of crafts. The walls were covered with current work and there were cupboards filled with all manner of resources. It was a haven for any pupils interested in the visual art.

As pupils, we'd always  suspected that the Head Teacher at the school was having an affair with the Art teacher which is why we reckon the department was so well stocked.

My room at Anfield was completely different. The school was only four years old but you would have imagined that my room had come from an older building. It was obvious that the previous tenant had shown little respect for his new surroundings.

The work on the walls consisted of tiny pictures mounted onto fading sugar paper which looked as though they'd been produced by junior school pupils several years before.

The stock room was near empty. One rack of pencil stubs, a handful of badly worn squirrel hair brushes and some tubes of poster paint were all I could find of any use. Admittedly there were boxes full of coloured gummed paper and some assorted pastels but very little else that I could use for my ambitious lessons.

I sensed this was going to be an uphill battle.