There was an acknowledgement amongst the Jewish community
that, while knowing we were superior to any non-Jewish groups, we did as little
as possibly to exacerbate people’s hostility. This
unspoken assumption of our superiority must of course have stirred up
anti-Semitic feelings, but there was no question of our demanding equal
consideration – one quietly knew we were better, but must not invite anyone’s
attention our Jewishness.
The fact that our family did not adhere at all strictly to
the mores of the religion did not lessen this feeling. Perhaps this is not so
surprising and could well be common to most religions: most people regarding
themselves as Christians probably practice little orthodox Christianity but
still feel part of their group, but do not feel themselves to be God’s chosen
people. Not that I ever heard such a thing expressed in this way – there was no
need to put words to it – we knew we were superior without that!
As a child, I felt a certain difference, but as my mother
encouraged friendships as far as possible exclusively with Jewish children, it
did not make things difficult, except that I was not encouraged to make too
much of a bosom friend of the lodger’s daughter, Joan Bull.
My last few months at Godwin Road School (I was nearly
eleven years old) were rather nightmare ones. Jewish children were very much
in the minority but only
occasionally encountered hostility. One teacher, Miss Read, sister of the
Headmistress, was particularly anti-Semitic – in later years I recognised her
as a Fascist in the making. She was good at making the few Jewish children
scapegoats and one day I was jigging about in my class seat (I often could not
hear the lesson, being partially deaf, but nobody, least of all myself, knew
this) she called me out in front of the class and said, “If you want to bump up
and down, I’ll bump you,” and proceeded to shake me vigorously by the
shoulders. I said nothing of this at home, but when I undressed ready for bed
my mother saw bruises on my arm and the story came out. The next day my mother
accompanied me to school and proceeded (much to the delight of the children) to
pummel Miss Read across the room, loudly proclaiming she would not have her
child mistreated just because she was Jewish. Miss Read called wildly for her
sister and pandemonium ensued. At the end of that term I was given a note
saying I was not to return and would be transferred elsewhere.
My mother was not accepting that and fought it, with the
help of a local Councillor, a Miss Wordley. The school had to take me back but I was ostracised and given little tuition:
no pencils, pens, paper, needles, etc. I said nothing at home, wanting no more
schoolroom fights, but at the end of that term my mother withdrew me, at her request and not giving the school
the satisfaction of expelling me. Miss Wordley was a teacher at Upton Lane
School and I became a pupil there. Unfortunately all this was at the time when
I should have been taking the 11 plus exam to try to get into the West Ham
Secondary School, which I just might have passed, but the chance was lost.
However, West Ham has a “second-chance” scheme at twelve
years old for what were called Central Schools: this I took and passed, and
left Upton Lane after a year or so for “The Grove” in nearby Stratford.
Education at the Central Schools tended to be geared to clerical / technical
teaching, and was for three years only and led to no leaving qualifications
such as matriculation, so everyone left at fiteen which I duly did, and got my
first job as an office junior with Lacrinoid Products Ltd., Rainford Road,
Forest Gate. Kay stayed at Godwin Road School until she left at fourteen as did
most children, except the tiny minority who passed the 11 plus.
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