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THE STAND OF SHAME
I went to a fairly prestigious school, St. Bede's College, Manchester. It was here I learnt to deal with failure. I'll explain why and how in a moment. First I need to explain the 'Stand of Shame' that was employed at the end of every term. Here is how it worked. As the term neared its end we were all tested on how effectively we had learnt the subjects arraigned before us including Latin and Religious Education (RE) as well as the regular subjects like Mathematics, English, French, Biology, Physics, History, etc. This testing, or the end of term examinations, were marked and turned in to a table of ranking from top student to the bottom one. Then, on the last day of term, the day we dispersed for the forthcoming holiday, the whole school would assemble in Form Groups in the large hall to be informed of the ranking achieved by each student. Up to this point no-one but the Form Master of each Form, eg. The Lower Third I, 11, Ill and IV, etc. would know the results achieved by each student. After the religious procedures - it is a Roman Catholic College -the first form was called, until, form by form we had all been exposed to this same treatment.
Whilst stood in our form groups, the name of the student who had scored the best marking would be read out and that student would sit down. Then the second highest students' name would be read out and he would sit down to be followed by the third, fourth, until there would be a small group of 'thickos' left standing with the last in the class left on his own, covered in shame, humiliated beyond belief, left feeling bereft of any support, to take it on the chin, to 'suck it up buttercup.' I know exactly how this felt as I was, more often than not, that last student left standing. Of course this was not the end of the matter. Obviously parents, relatives and friends would want to know how you'd fared on your return home. I somehow used to dodge this questioning but the real day of reckoning came with the arrival of the letter from the school to the parents indicating how well or, as in my case, how badly you had performed. Then the 'sh one t' would hit the proverbial fan. I well remember having my Christmas breaks just about ruined as I waited for the inevitable 'Sword of Damocles' to inevitably descend. This was and, maybe still is, (it certainly was when my nephew went to this same college some many years later) the system employed to encourage attainment; the system I've called the 'Hall of Shame.'
This piece has been prompted by a BBC Documentary on the need to prepare teenagers for failure.
To assist with its composition I've dug up material from the ubiquitous internet and have found the tip of an iceberg...an 'iceberg' full of such amazing and voluminous facts and figures describing how to diagnose, how to treat, how to care for troubled youngsters that, in truth, you're not any the wiser for attempting to digest the vast majority of it at all. Perhaps the best advice for anyone responsible for caring, in the widest possible sense, for a troubled teenager, is to start by understanding the impossibility of comparing yesterday, when we were starting off in life, with today.
At my ripe old age I can relate to the need to accept a low base from which to spring from. The 'Stand of Shame' as described above left me with little self-worth to the extent I was prepared to be content with very little. There's no self-pity implied nor intended here. I didn't discuss how I felt about myself with anyone else. Instead, I simply ‘got on with it.' 'lt' being life itself. I didn't concern myself with how I measured up against others. I accepted the fact that, on leaving school and home simultaneously at the age of 16, I had to survive. In other words, my education (or lack of it) and the 'Stand of Shame' taught me to accept failure in its entirety and to accept all that came my way, good and bad, as inevitable and, more often than not, a bonus. I have never doubted nor questioned my rights to a ‘good life'. Fate dished itself up and I accepted, from a very early age, that mostly life was its own bonus.
I occasionally think back to my school years and wonder how my contemporaries and friends have fared. Some, inevitably, will have done as well, some may have struggled but I can tell you this . no one has done any better. I was groomed to fail by my school and after almost 70 years of life beyond school, I can tell you that this was the greatest advantage they could have provided.
JOHN RAMWELL
John Ramwell
Issue 87 Autumn 2022
