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> Old School: St Mungo's Academy, I attended in the 1960's
Rating 5 V
Dexter St. Clair
post 27th May 2008, 07:32am
Post #16


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The site of High Street pops i think is still there and as you say not the shop.

McConville a Sinatra fan went on to Notre Dame College of Education to lecture in religious studies. Eddie O'Hanlon who was regarded by others as a good teacher I understand took up a Headship in a primary school.
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Mike Docherty
post 5th Jun 2008, 01:55am
Post #17

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Thanks to Dexter for the update on what became of Mungo teachers McConville and O'Hanlon - I seem to recall catching a fleeting glimpse of Latin teacher McConville on TV once - some show about marriage guidance counselling or something similar but as his appearance coincided with that week's episode of Top of The Pops so McConville didn't stand a chance. True enough, there were many who praised Mr. O'Hanlon but for every one who praised him there were probably ten others sticking pins in Eddie Onion effigies all over the city.
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*eddiebhoy67*
post 6th Jun 2008, 12:27pm
Post #18






To Big Arturo
Yes. However many laughs we might have now the reality at the time was often very bad.
I see McConville's name mentioned at the Kent, and I will never forget that man and his cruelty as long as I live. And Brother Aiden. He taught geography. He would arrive in class. Talk unfathomable rubbish and then mention that he had just dropped pearls before the swine. Some boys would write things down but I never had a clue what he was on about. I believe these pearls were answers to future exam questions. I got 25% for geography.
Music teacher in the attic ? I remember a very tall thin man called Drack. He pulled all the curtains one day and sat in the dark at the piano. We could just make out his outline against the curtains as he sat playing the Death March. He also had us all singing " Faith of our Fathers " in a lusty fashion then suddenly stopped and made us examine every word and sentence in detail. He then invited all those who wanted to die for their faith to join him in another chorus. There was silence. And one to one interviews with Brother Alexius ? With the door locked and engaged light on outside. And questions about whether your father spanked you. And with what ? And with or without ? ( Trousers ) That was pretty hairy. And " Daddy Kelly." He taught science. At least that was the rumour. He found out that I had been caught " dogging school." Hands up. I just gave up. I just wanted to avoid the Savages and McConvilles until I was old enough to leave. But I was caught and had to have a card signed every lesson to prove I was there. Daddy called me out to his desk. His stomach was so big he used to lift it up with both hands and prop it on the desk. He was short with a little grey moustach. " You know what I think of you?" he said. He then spat on the floor. He then ignored me for the rest of the term. He gave me no work. I was handed no equipment in the lab. I was 14. And O'Hanlon. A bald headed maths teacher who wrote sums on the board calling out, " Who sees it, boys ?" "Who sees it ?" We all nodded that we could see it and he smiled. Then he would point at someone and say, " OK. You can see it. Tell us then. Tell us the answer." The smile would go. The voice would rise and become shrill. " You then?" "Or you?" And then the belt would appear and we would all be flogged. The whole class was often done for not " seeing it." He went through exam papers once with the class and belted everyone who had scored less than 80%. And he had a lousy aim so you often caught the tails on your wrists and the red weals would sting for ages afterwards. I am reliably informed that one of our number became Lord Advocate in Canada. He must have had private lessons oin the side surely ?
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Mike Docherty
post 7th Jun 2008, 08:46am
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In response to eddiebhoy67's entry re. Brother Alexis -- Aha, now there was a character... A perpetually sweaty, pink-faced little bald fellow who constantly reeked of cheap gin and bore a disturbing resemblance to mass murderer John Christie of '10 Rillington Place' fame ( - or infamy depending on how you look at it )... He would occasionally conduct the First Friday Mass at a church way along the London Road and always insisted upon using the French word for 'Mass', always finishing the gig with " Go in Peace, the Messe has ended " It's funny for the first 4 or 5 hundred times you hear it ... He would always hover around the toilets at St. Kent's, hoping to bust some smokers red-handed...When he caught one of the kids engaged in a heinous activity such as shouting or running in the corridors and he saw fit to deal out punishment he had a somewhat questionable habit of offering the option of being spanked rather than face the dreaded belt ! I found myself in his office once to face the music for throwing a snowball at a # 6 bus on Duke Street - The matter was being treated as if it had been a hand grenade but when asked if I would rather take the belt or get spanked I opted for the former and let the chips fall where they may. He was genuinely taken aback and he settled for a clap on the shoulder instead... Perhaps the fact that I had made sure his office door remained open may have had something to do with it. I recall mentioning his behavior to my folks who, being Irish threw a snarling, raging fit at the very suggestion that a ' Man of the Cloth ' could be a bit light in the loafers. Bro. Alexis ( or 'Wee Lekkie' as he was known ) always insisted that he simply loved the boys. He possibly loved them a little too much because he vanished and was replaced as headmaster by a stern old Irish fella whose name I cannot remember ( was that Brother Aidan? ) sometime in early '68 and then in turn he was replaced by the overly-intense Brother Lucas. Brother Lucas was short with nothing that resembled a sense of humor and possessed a head that was perpetually cocked at about 20 degrees from the vertical - any time he chose to look behind him he had to physically rotate from the waist up. There was an incident during my second year at St. Kent's where two kids were beating the tar out of each other in the yard and the yells and cheers of the audience alerted Bro. Lucas that there was mischief afoot. He charged into the yard and the now silent throng parted like the Red Sea as he pushed his way towards the bruised culprits at the center of the crowd. Grabbing both kids by the scruff of their necks he swung them as far apart as he could then swung them towards each other where both skulls connected with an extremely audible ' Clunk '. He demanded to know who threw the first punch but neither one 'fessed up. One of the guys pushed his luck though when he insisted he had not been involved in a fight at all - Bro. Lucas gave him another opportunity to come clean but the kid denied all knowledge -- Now fuming with rage he demanded of the kid " Look me in the eye, boy and tell me you weren' t fighting " to which the kid responded by cocking his head at a similar angle to Bro. Lucas's head and repeated his response - you coulda heard a pin drop - there was that moment of stunned silence, Bro Lucas shaking so violently he looked like he might spontaneously combust on the spot, then grabbed the bare-faced liar by his hair and dragged him up to his office where he proceeded to beat him like a Red-headed Stepchild... One thing for sure about the Mungo when it came to characters and weirdos, teacher and pupil alike - you couldn' t throw a rock without hitting one...
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*PK*
post 22nd Jun 2008, 12:23am
Post #20






I remember Papas. I was at Duke street from 69 to 72 (i think). At Duke St we used to rush from the school into the Ladywell buildings where a shop had pallets of pies and beans already wrapped and ready to serve for around 9d. Many of the teachers names here are familiar, I remember a particularly sadistic maths teacher called wee Mac. Best teacher, although still terrifying, was Mr. Byrne, an art teacher
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*Michael Docherty*
post 23rd Jun 2008, 07:37pm
Post #21






Hey, pk - I remember that bakery - it became our steady lunchtime eatery after a brief altercation with the guy who ran Papa's and we decided to never darken his doorstep again. The Math teacher you refer to - 'Mac' - was probably McAloon - I remember him well - A short, chubby little guy with glasses... I managed to get through my First Year at St. Kent's ( relatively ) in one piece although I had hated every single minute of it and still wished I had gone with my first instinct - to go to St. Thomas Aquinas along with all my Primary School pals from St. Peter's in Partick. After that first horrible year in St. Kent's I foolishly assumed the baptism of fire was over and done with and it would get better from there on in... What's the old adage about '..famous last words..? '... Summer was great with a two-week school-organized vacation to Italy & Switzerland and one of the teachers who accompanied the group was McAloon himself who seemed just fine as a civilian but as a teacher was a Jekyll / Hyde character. That idyllic summer was winding down - Back to St. Kent's for a Second Year full of optimism - I considered myself fortunate to find Eddie Onion would play no part in my next 12 months of incarceration - he was too busy commuting between St. Kent's and Kennedy St. where he continued to torture 12 & 13 year-olds with his Spanish Inquisition teaching tactics, taking centerstage as The Grand Inquisitor himself. Brother Alexis had been spirited away to be replaced with a crusty old Irish guy as Headmaster - A 'Fire and Brimstone' type. No more Latin which meant no more McConville or Mr. Shields ( - "Sammy Mensa" to us -)... One of our English teachers was a young woman - a Miss Hawthorne who was immediately re-named ' Miss Hot-Horns ' due to her extremely impressive physical attributes. She was barely 5 feet tall which created a bizarre symmetry considering she was also about 5 feet in diameter. The most obvious thing about her was the massive chip she carried around on her shoulder which manifested itself in her liberal use of the belt, each period consisting of about 25% education and 75% 'Discipline'. Being somewhat vertically challenged she actually had to stand on a stool to dish out punishment to the taller guys in the class. As far as I can recall she was the only female teacher in a school full of boys which in itself was probably intimidating, made worse by the fact that no-one took her seriously. She lasted 4 or 5 months and left as an emotional trainwreck. Teaching Art was, as you mentioned - Mr Byrne - He was one of the best teachers that place ever had... I remember seeing him running around on a little Honda motorbike and how he spent several months on crutches with a broken leg thanks to a genius car driver performing the ubiquitous right-turn sans signal stunt. Big Sam once again took care of French, History was taught by a lanky American teacher from ( I think ) Ohio. I remember the first day he strolled into the room wearing cords, cowboy boots and a leather vest and sporting a drooping gunfighter's mustache as if he'd just walked off the set of a Western flick, the only thing missing was the Colt Peacemaker strapped to his thigh... Science was delivered courtesy of a new teacher - A Mr. Boyle who was another great believer in battering a good education into his class. He surprised us all with an unscheduled Test about 4 weeks into the new school term and anyone who scored below what he considered 'acceptable' had the stuffing belted outta them - about 95% of the class. Within a week I had a run-in with McAloon the math teacher. He took offense at the way I was sitting (?) - slouched insolently in my chair and not bolt-upright and hanging on his every word. I recall he derived great enjoyment from trying to make people look silly in front of their peers and when he was done berating me for my lazy posture I returned to my seat and after a brief moment of sitting erect with hands clasped in front of me I resumed my insolent slouch. I believe this may have triggered The McAloon Meltdown... Before I knew it I was in front of him and, for a little guy moved deceptively fast - a blur, in fact as he dealt out a rapid 6 hefty strokes of the belt and as I headed back to my seat, genuinely stunned the little bastard grabbed me by the back of my collar and physically threw me through the door (- fortunately for me the doors swung both ways-) and sent me sprawling into the hallway beyond, head spinning. When I gathered my wits and went back inside against his stern warning to 'Stay Out' of his classroom I scooped my books into my briefcase and exited the building, totally ignoring his demands to 'Explain Myself'... Being ignored by a pupil was obviously new ground for him and it was making him uneasy. I eyed the huge welt on my wrist left by the mis-strokes of his belt and the discoloration of the broken veins under the skin but realized my own folly in deciding to go home early - we were scheduled to have a double period of swimming that afternoon and nothing short of a dismemberment would prevent me from being there. Besides - the wounded wrist would look much worse later. I made good my escape after swimming and headed home to show my mother the results of McAloon's handiwork which by now was an amazing assortment of deep reds and purples. She went predictably ballistic and when my father came home he responded in similar fashion, dragging me down to the local copshop to press charges against this loose-cannon maniac of a teacher. The police did indeed pay him a visit and from what I heard later scared the Bejazus out of him with the threat of potential criminal charges for his deeds. Imagine my delight when I was informed the decision lay with me - prosecute or not prosecute. I told the Powers-that-be I would ".. let him off this time ..". He was in my pocket now and he knew it and I made damn sure everyone else in the class knew it too. I was invisible to him for the rest of that term - he received a serious bollockin' from Bro. Lucas ( the latest headmaster ) and was getting looked at sideways by his teacher colleagues which led to him being little more than a joke but the incident had soured me and just contributed to the overall realization that for me school was a place where I would make chalkmarks on the wall like a lifer in San Quentin, counting down those long days to my 15th birthday and my escape.
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Dexter St. Clair
post 23rd Jun 2008, 11:22pm
Post #22


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Well he died young and left a family behind if that makes you any happier.

Where's the bring back the belt brigade? in hiding chaps?
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*Michael Docherty*
post 24th Jun 2008, 05:21am
Post #23






Hey, pk - I remember that bakery - it became our steady lunchtime eatery after a brief altercation with the guy who ran Papa's and we decided to never darken his doorstep again. The Math teacher you refer to - 'Mac' - was probably McAloon - I remember him well - A short, chubby little guy with glasses... I managed to get through my First Year at St. Kent's ( relatively ) in one piece although I had hated every single minute of it and still wished I had gone with my first instinct - to go to St. Thomas Aquinas along with all my Primary School pals from St. Peter's in Partick. After that first horrible year in St. Kent's I foolishly assumed the baptism of fire was over and done with and it would get better from there on in... What's the old adage about '..famous last words..? '... Summer was great with a two-week school-organized vacation to Italy & Switzerland and one of the teachers who accompanied the group was McAloon himself who seemed just fine as a civilian but as a teacher was a Jekyll / Hyde character. That idyllic summer was winding down - Back to St. Kent's for a Second Year full of optimism - I considered myself fortunate to find Eddie Onion would play no part in my next 12 months of incarceration - he was too busy commuting between St. Kent's and Kennedy St. where he continued to torture 12 & 13 year-olds with his Spanish Inquisition teaching tactics, taking centerstage as The Grand Inquisitor himself. Brother Alexis had been spirited away to be replaced with a crusty old Irish guy as Headmaster - A 'Fire and Brimstone' type. No more Latin which meant no more McConville or Mr. Shields ( - "Sammy Mensa" to us -)... One of our English teachers was a young woman - a Miss Hawthorne who was immediately re-named ' Miss Hot-Horns ' due to her extremely impressive physical attributes. She was barely 5 feet tall which created a bizarre symmetry considering she was also about 5 feet in diameter. The most obvious thing about her was the massive chip she carried around on her shoulder which manifested itself in her liberal use of the belt, each period consisting of about 25% education and 75% 'Discipline'. Being somewhat vertically challenged she actually had to stand on a stool to dish out punishment to the taller guys in the class. As far as I can recall she was the only female teacher in a school full of boys which in itself was probably intimidating, made worse by the fact that no-one took her seriously. She lasted 4 or 5 months and left as an emotional trainwreck. Teaching Art was, as you mentioned - Mr Byrne - He was one of the best teachers that place ever had... I remember seeing him running around on a little Honda motorbike and how he spent several months on crutches with a broken leg thanks to a genius car driver performing the ubiquitous right-turn sans signal stunt. Big Sam once again took care of French, History was taught by a lanky American teacher from ( I think ) Ohio. I remember the first day he strolled into the room wearing cords, cowboy boots and a leather vest and sporting a drooping gunfighter's mustache as if he'd just walked off the set of a Western flick, the only thing missing was the Colt Peacemaker strapped to his thigh... Science was delivered courtesy of a new teacher - A Mr. Boyle who was another great believer in battering a good education into his class. He surprised us all with an unscheduled Test about 4 weeks into the new school term and anyone who scored below what he considered 'acceptable' had the stuffing belted outta them - about 95% of the class. Within a week I had a run-in with McAloon the math teacher. He took offense at the way I was sitting (?) - slouched insolently in my chair and not bolt-upright and hanging on his every word. I recall he derived great enjoyment from trying to make people look silly in front of their peers and when he was done berating me for my lazy posture I returned to my seat and after a brief moment of sitting erect with hands clasped in front of me I resumed my insolent slouch. I believe this may have triggered The McAloon Meltdown... Before I knew it I was in front of him and, for a little guy moved deceptively fast - a blur, in fact as he dealt out a rapid 6 hefty strokes of the belt and as I headed back to my seat, genuinely stunned the little bastard grabbed me by the back of my collar and physically threw me through the door (- fortunately for me the doors swung both ways-) and sent me sprawling into the hallway beyond, head spinning. When I gathered my wits and went back inside against his stern warning to 'Stay Out' of his classroom I scooped my books into my briefcase and exited the building, totally ignoring his demands to 'Explain Myself'... Being ignored by a pupil was obviously new ground for him and it was making him uneasy. I eyed the huge welt on my wrist left by the mis-strokes of his belt and the discoloration of the broken veins under the skin but realized my own folly in deciding to go home early - we were scheduled to have a double period of swimming that afternoon and nothing short of a dismemberment would prevent me from being there. Besides - the wounded wrist would look much worse later. I made good my escape after swimming and headed home to show my mother the results of McAloon's handiwork which by now was an amazing assortment of deep reds and purples. She went predictably ballistic and when my father came home he responded in similar fashion, dragging me down to the local copshop to press charges against this loose-cannon maniac of a teacher. The police did indeed pay him a visit and from what I heard later scared the Bejazus out of him with the threat of potential criminal charges for his deeds. Imagine my delight when I was informed the decision lay with me - prosecute or not prosecute. I told the Powers-that-be I would ".. let him off this time ..". He was in my pocket now and he knew it and I made damn sure everyone else in the class knew it too. I was invisible to him for the rest of that term - he received a serious bollockin' from Bro. Lucas ( the latest headmaster ) and was getting looked at sideways by his teacher colleagues which led to him being little more than a joke but the incident had soured me and just contributed to the overall realization that for me school was a place where I would make chalkmarks on the wall like a lifer in San Quentin, counting down those long days to my 15th birthday and my escape.
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*Michael Docherty*
post 24th Jun 2008, 05:15pm
Post #24






First of all - apologies for the duplication of that last entry - I was informed that the 6 character code was inaccurately entered the first time and I should try again so whoever screwed up - it wasn't me. In response to Dexter's comment re. Math teacher McAloon - No, the fact that he died fails to make me ' happier ' - just because the man single-handedly re-defined the word ' A@#hole ' does not mean I should wish an untimely demise upon him - That particular wish was always reserved for Eddie Onion.
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Dexter St. Clair
post 24th Jun 2008, 11:43pm
Post #25


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What did they showed a lack of vocabulary at St. Kentigern's?
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*Michael Docherty*
post 25th Jun 2008, 04:19am
Post #26






Since Dexter appears to have kept tabs on the old Mungo faculty I wonder if he could shed any light on the whereabouts of Art teacher Mr. Byrne who tolerated me during the years '67 - '72 from St. Kent's through The Barony & Parson St. plus English teacher Mr. McLaughlin ( Big Wullie ), who gave me some great encouragement through 4th and 5th year, also in The Barony & Parson St.
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*Guest PaulK **
post 30th Jun 2008, 12:06am
Post #27






QUOTE (Michael Docherty @ 24th Jun 2008, 05:38 AM) *
Hey, pk - I remember that bakery - it became our steady lunchtime eatery after a brief altercation with the guy who ran Papa's and we decided to never darken his doorstep again. The Math teacher you refer to - 'Mac' - was probably McAloon - I remember him well - A short, chubby little guy with glasses... I managed to get through my First Year at St. Kent's ( relatively ) in one piece although I had hated every single minute of it and still wished I had gone with my first instinct - to go to St. Thomas Aquinas along with all my Primary School pals from St. Peter's in Partick. After that first horrible year in St. Kent's I foolishly assumed the baptism of fire was over and done with and it would get better from there on in... What's the old adage about '..famous last words..? '... Summer was great with a two-week school-organized vacation to Italy & Switzerland and one of the teachers who accompanied the group was McAloon himself who seemed just fine as a civilian but as a teacher was a Jekyll / Hyde character. That idyllic summer was winding down

I think I was on the same trip. Italy and Switzerland, 1970. No idea what happened to Byrne, another teacher I remember who was OK was a guy called (I think) Henderson who did some bit part acting on the telly, died in a car crash or something. The American teacher was Lee Trevino as far as I recall.
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*Guest PaulK **
post 30th Jun 2008, 09:58pm
Post #28






QUOTE (Guest PaulK * @ 30th Jun 2008, 12:23 AM) *
The American teacher was Lee Trevino as far as I recall.


oops, Lee Trevino may have been a golfer but I do think the teacher was called either Lee or most likely Trevino or am I just losing my marbles?
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*Michael Docherty*
post 30th Jun 2008, 11:25pm
Post #29






Hi there, PaulK -- Right destination, different year - The trip we took was earlier in July of '68. I remember the whole bunch of us standing in the pissing rain on the shoulder of the M6 after the bus' s engine gave up the ghost and left transmission parts scattered all across the motorway, having to unload then re-load all the gear into another bus the charter company sent to our rescue, finally getting into London and wandering around lost because the driver had no clue where we were going but it all came together in the long run. Great memories of sitting at a railroad station cafeteria at 6am just as day broke, stuffing ourselves with crusty rolls lathered with fresh butter washed down with copious amounts of Swiss coffee in bucket-sized cups before the train ride to Chiavari, Italy for a week then back to Lucerne for the second week. Italy was good but Switzerland was great. Only problem was it all went by way too fast. The following year I think the school trip was a month in Biarritz. Good times...
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*Michael Docherty*
post 1st Jul 2008, 08:05am
Post #30






Not so sure about either 'Lee' or 'Trevino' to be honest, PaulK although he ( The American guy ) was the only history teacher I ever had who taught the subject in a fashion that made the subject interesting to learn. The fact that he was closer to our age rather than his colleagues may have had a lot to do with it... Having a somewhat warped sense of humor even then I once considered informing the St. Kent's teachers ( who were for the most part a bunch of old fossils ) that Victoria was no longer on the throne but decided against it as it may have been too great a shock to their systems and I didn' t want to be responsible for them throwing themselves in front of trains or out of windows. 'Henderson' rings no bells for me. I do remember a young Physics teacher - 'McCue' or 'McHugh' - I believe he played for Clyde... Someone mentioned 'Brickley' - him I remember - I think he was a back-up PE teacher with the regular PE guy being a Mr. Donaghy - a stocky bear of a guy with curly hair and a permanent Seven O'Clock shadow. We had a music teacher whose name escapes me who had blond, wavy hair, thick glasses and looked about 12 years old. Our first Art teacher may have been called 'Slavin' - not sure about the name but he was a total nut-job who disappeared sometime during the first 3 or 4 months of my First year to be replaced by Mr. Byrne. One of the English teachers ( and my form teacher for about 6 months ) was Connelly who was another self-righteous little twerp who considered the belt as much of a teaching aid as a text book. During his English classes he would often work himself up into a frenzy until he would be shrieking like a banshee and by then no-one in the class had the slightest notion of what the lesson or the tantrum was about and his performance would usually terminate with him storming out, slamming the door as he went or theatrically tossing his briefcase across the room leaving us to wonder who was the most immature - The teacher or the 30 or so 12 year-olds in his class...
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