KEGS Aston - Speech Day

Speech Day

King Edward Scholarship Medal

Depending on who you talked to Speech Day was either mindlessly boring or the highlight of the year. I was nearer the latter end of the spectrum for two reasons: it was an opportunity to see the staff in full academic regalia (to which I, too, one day aspired); and the surroundings were impressive.

Throughout my time Speech Day was held at KEGS Handsworth, Rose Hill Road - the girls' school. This was because their hall was vastly larger than 'Big School' which couldn't even accommodate all the pupils, let alone the parents and invited guests who were so much a part of the occasion.

Even this wasn't really big enough, so first formers were excluded. This meant they got an afternoon off under false pretences: the rest of us had to turn up the same evening (usually a Friday) for the ceremonials.

The evening followed a pattern which never varied throughout my time. While parents, guests and schoolboys all found somewhere to sit Sixth form music students played 'something suitable'. I can see P A O'Brien now playing Chopin's Revolutionary Étude - very suitable!

The sign that proceedings were about to begin was the entrance, not of the gladiators, but of the staff wearing gowns (which we saw every day) and academic hoods (which we only saw on Speech Day) and led by the 'third' master - the member of staff with the longest service. At my last Speech Day I was pleased to see that this was - at last - my hero, 'Billy' Chivers.

As its name suggests the main part of the evening was the speeches! First in to 'bat' was the Head. It required little effort on his part to be heard in 'Big School' because of the many broken surfaces which made it acoustically ideal. But Rose Hill Road was not so accommodating. At my first Speech Day (in November 1951) - knowing this - he invited members of the audience, if they could not hear, to wave their programmes. He paused, immediately recognising the danger in this, because we were all seated at the back of this huge hall. To the great amusement of our parents he qualified the invitation by excluding pupils. He said, were we to do so, 'it might lead to something'!

Next up was always the Bailiff of the Foundation. Because so much of the School's revenue came not from the Foundation but from the City Council this was always a nominee of the current ruling political party. On that first occasion I could see why people regarded Speech Day as mind-numbingly boring. We were regaled by this worthy but dull Bailiff on the virtues of a career in the police force. I think he must have been Chairman of the Watch Committee! (See below)

The 'second' speaker was always the Head's choice. My heart sank as I saw this white-haired gentleman wearing half-moon spectacles rise to speak. How wrong I was to be! First off we could hear every word he said. Although he had been introduced as Mr Frank Jones, at that stage the name meant nothing to me. It turned out that he had been a master at the school and he regaled us with tales of his forty years' service.

He spoke clearly and in short sentences which was, I learnt later, how he wrote. I shall never forget the tale with which he concluded. He had a pupil with a lisp and, determined to eradicate this, he promised the class of which this boy was a member a week off homework if he could say 'Sister Susie sews shirts for saucy sailors' without fault.

For the following week he saw this individual around the school, white faced and surrounded by his class mates, as they drilled him in his task. The great day came and the lad was invited by Frank to the front of the class to demonstrate his mastery of his affliction. Painfully and hesitantly - oh, so hesitantly - the chosen words came out perfectly. As the last one passed his lips the class erupted in triumphant cheers.

When these had at last subsided, Frank turned to the enormously relieved, and by now thoroughly relaxed, victor and said 'Could you do it again if I asked you to?' And he got the immortal reply 'I think tho Thir'!

The hall collapsed in laughter and I learnt an invaluable lesson: never judge by appearances.

The following day my father was at the AOE rugby match and the same Frank Jones, AOE President, was there too. My father knew Frank from his own days as a pupil at Aston and said to him 'You stole the show last night'. He peered at Dad over those same half-moon glasses and said 'I didn't have much to beat, did I?'

So, at the following year's Speech Day, I waited with eager anticipation to see who the 'second' speaker would be. To my dismay in strode this cleric in gaiters and frock coat. Again, I was so wrong. This was Michael Parker, Archdeacon (later Bishop) of Aston. But his formula was the same as Frank Jones's. First you could hear every word he said. And he, too, recounted incidents from his time as a teacher at Aston (1921-23). He ended by saying that when he left his pupils bought him a gift and inscribed it 'the best of luck'. Because, he said, 'They knew I'd had none with them!'

Another time Miss Lloyd-Evans, Head Mistress of the Girls' High School, was 'second' speaker. She was absolutely hilarious. First, she wore a funny hat (well, we thought it was funny!). Secondly, she spoke with a very 'posh' accent and thirdly she concluded with a doggerel rhyme of her own devising - unforgettable! Many years later I was to learn from one of her pupils that she had a weakness for the gin bottle - at the wrong times. Maybe this explained her success with us!

The only 'failure' was when Tom Howarth, Chief Master of the Foundation, was invited to do the honours. I cannot now remember what he said, but it gave great offence to all of us pupils who regarded him as a terrible snob. He soon found a job more suited to his tastes - elsewhere.

Apart from these specific recollections all I can really remember of Speech Days was my fascination with the academic hoods sported by our masters. The Oxford, Cambridge, London and Birmingham ones soon became familiar because they were so numerous. Others required reference to Pears Cyclopaedia (sic) for elucidation. But one defeated me to the end of my time at Aston - and still does. It was that sported by 'Ernie' Pickering, M.A. I reckon it had been awarded by his favourite institution - the Stockland Green Inn!!

There was just one occasion, in 1955, when I appeared briefly in the proceedings. I was that year's King Edward Scholar and had to go up and receive my medal from a (very) elderly Bailiff - Alderman Byng Kenrick. And there my part in Speech Days ended!

In my last year, November 1957, I was allowed - with my parents - to attend the reception for the staff, their wives, and the Head's guests which always followed. But only so that I could circulate with a plate of biscuits!

(Whilst re-reading some old school magazines recently I discovered that this incident occurred not in 1951 but 1956. Still, why let the facts get in the way of a good story! Back to the plot.)