Mick Hart goes back to school … again (Not before time!)
17 November – ProSchool Kaliningrad: Can Mick Hart Make the Grade?
I recently did something that I thought I would never do: I went back to school. I didn’t go back to my old school, the Prince William in Oundle. They wouldn’t have me back. Besides, I was less there when I was there than I should have been.
English-language teacher Olga sprung this arrangement on me quite out of the blue, informing me that she had told her students that I would be coming into school ‘next week’ to say a few words to them. Words? I thought. What sort of words? Like, ‘Don’t neglect your studies, or you could end up like me, leaving school with zilch qualifications.’ Actually, the few words I would eventually say would be something along these lines, as the ‘lecture’ I would deliver would be a potted biography of my life during my years at school and after in the great beyond. “Good heavens,” I thought, “those Russian students are certainly in for a treat!”
The school I had been invited to is the combined primary and secondary school, Proshkola (English translation, ‘ProSchool’), which is based in Kaliningrad, Russia. You can read more about it in my previous post, Proshkola School, Kaliningrad: Inspiration in Action.
Public speaking
Although I have heard people say that I am an up-to-scratch public speaker, to be honest, I don’t much care for it. I do not mind the actual speaking — ‘It will be alright on the night’ is my fingers-crossed philosophy — but I’m not particularly overkeen on the preparation needed.
The last time I gave anything amounting to a public address was when I was required to make three on-stage appearances over a two-day period at the 2019 international classic and vintage car festival, The Golden Shadow of Königsberg. Following that event, I learnt lines for a short film in which I had a part called Last Tango in Königsberg, which ironically were overdubbed in Russian at the film’s post-production stage. Since then, my only speaking roles, if we discount pub banter, have been making toasts at Russian gatherings and eulogising when asked at funerals — something I am trying not to make a habit of.
I did, however, gain a distinction at a public speaking event in Oundle, but that was in another time and in a different world, 1970 to be precise. Olga suggested to me that I take this ‘historic document’, my public-speaking certificate, to show to the students at school, together with some school-day photos and other props that illustrated my illustrious educational history.
As the event was intended to be informal, we also took along with us various vintage cups and saucers, all bone china, of course, so that we and the students could partake of tea in the manner in which it should be enjoyed. One brave student went so far as to try tea the English way by drinking it with malacor (milk). I cannot for the life of me drink it any other way.
Apologising in advance for having the reputation of being one of the faster talkers in the West, I promised to ‘put the brakes on’, respectfully asking my young audience not to fall asleep or, should they not be able to help themselves, to disguise it as best they could. Heckling’s nothing to deal with compared to a barrage of snoring!
I prefaced my address by making what I consider to be an all-important distinction regarding my nationality and where exactly I hail from. “I am not British.” I said. “I am not from the UK. I am English. I’m from England, and that’s the way I like it!”
I could see from the look on their faces that they understood my every word!
It was a little more difficult explaining to them how I could have left school without obtaining a single qualification but would have received a doctorate had they awarded them for acting daft.
I also produced a school report from my days at Oundle Prince William School. Comparatively speaking, this report was not at all that bad — well, not as bad as some.
The report I value most, which is still in my possession, is one that I received from Oundle Secondary Modern School. (There was nothing modern about it!) ‘Chalky’ White, the school headmaster, wrote in that report, “If he would devote as much effort to his studies as he does to acting daft, then possibly he might get somewhere.” I didn’t, and I didn’t.
I left school to work on pig farms (good old smelly stuff), eventually swapping my dung fork for a sledgehammer when I embarked upon the demolition of Second World War bomber bases left behind in the late 1940s by the USAAF (the United States Army Air Force).
In 1976, I returned to education in order to take the ‘O’ and ‘A’ levels that I should have passed at school but didn’t. But it was worth it in more ways than one. My memories of Kettering Technical College, since renamed Tresham College, are better than gold-plated. In addition to fostering friendships with numerous Chinese and Malaysian students, fate introduced me to Richard Oberman, one of the most captivating and motivating English literature tutors I would ever have the good fortune to meet. His inspirational teaching and personal advice changed the trajectory of my life. He really was that influential.
ProSchool Kaliningrad
Proshkola (ProSchool) students are a commendable bunch. They indulged my efforts and never snored once. They certainly evinced greater levels of attentiveness and therefore scholarly promise than I ever aspired to when I was their age. (Belated apologies to Chris Lowe, Headmaster of Oundle Prince William School). ProSchool students and I overcame our shyness together. I in delivering my address, and they in asking me questions. Some of which I could actually answer!
I would like to offer my thanks, therefore, to ProSchool Director Alyona Pusko, for allowing me to return to school and for permitting me to strut my stuff in my own inimitable, if not flawed, fashion. My efforts did not go unnoticed. I earned myself a smiley face and the summation “his work has improved this term” on my latest report from Olga. I shall hang this document on the wall next to my public speaking certificate. 😊
