12. English lessons by Nell Manchester (David’s Grandmother)
In David’s first year at Hutt Valley High School when he was thirteen, Anne asked if I would give him English lessons. Could I, really was the question. I was woefully unqualified, with only two years’ secondary schooling and a year at a commercial college, so called, to recommend me. Would I? Of course, it would be an unlooked for pleasure. But, there was the risk I might do more harm than good.
However, I prepared myself as best I could, wondering why my university-educated daughter had chosen me, of all unlikely people. Could she not perhaps have used her own skills?
David arrived for his first “lesson” with his skateboard under his arm. Throughout his teens he was an avid skateboarder. Prior to that, he and James had been much into hurling missiles. Often I had feared going to the back of the house in case I was caught in the cross-fire. But that phase of their lives was by now, I thought, behind them, though Guy Fawkes night in their company could still be a bit scary.
At thirteen, David was a fetching little fellow, not yet giving a hint of the quite tall, fine young man he would grow into. We had a drink and something to eat before we settled down to the work where I was put to the test. We often had our lessons at the picnic table at the back of my cottage on Marine Parade. David enjoyed the afternoon tea I put out for him and applied himself to the tasks I set with a ready willingness.
The boys found it difficult expressing themselves verbally, hence their hyped-up physical activity, missile throwing, et cetera. This must have seemed strange to many people who knew the parents to be bright and educated, socially adept, and very articulate.
I hoped that reading aloud to me might help David over this particular hurdle. Other aspects of my “job” would not be so easily managed. But some progress at least was made and I know Anne believed it all helped him to get through his School Certificate English examination two years later.
I’m not sure how long David and I shared this coming together experience, how many months, a time that was precious to me. Perhaps it was the closest I ever got to him.
Getting to know the splendid young man was to be a period so brief, when it had promised so much.
In David’s first year at Hutt Valley High School when he was thirteen, Anne asked if I would give him English lessons. Could I, really was the question. I was woefully unqualified, with only two years’ secondary schooling and a year at a commercial college, so called, to recommend me. Would I? Of course, it would be an unlooked for pleasure. But, there was the risk I might do more harm than good.
However, I prepared myself as best I could, wondering why my university-educated daughter had chosen me, of all unlikely people. Could she not perhaps have used her own skills?David arrived for his first “lesson” with his skateboard under his arm. Throughout his teens he was an avid skateboarder. Prior to that, he and James had been much into hurling missiles. Often I had feared going to the back of the house in case I was caught in the cross-fire. But that phase of their lives was by now, I thought, behind them, though Guy Fawkes night in their company could still be a bit scary.
At thirteen, David was a fetching little fellow, not yet giving a hint of the quite tall, fine young man he would grow into. We had a drink and something to eat before we settled down to the work where I was put to the test. We often had our lessons at the picnic table at the back of my cottage on Marine Parade. David enjoyed the afternoon tea I put out for him and applied himself to the tasks I set with a ready willingness.
The boys found it difficult expressing themselves verbally, hence their hyped-up physical activity, missile throwing, et cetera. This must have seemed strange to many people who knew the parents to be bright and educated, socially adept, and very articulate.
I hoped that reading aloud to me might help David over this particular hurdle. Other aspects of my “job” would not be so easily managed. But some progress at least was made and I know Anne believed it all helped him to get through his School Certificate English examination two years later.
I’m not sure how long David and I shared this coming together experience, how many months, a time that was precious to me. Perhaps it was the closest I ever got to him.
Getting to know the splendid young man was to be a period so brief, when it had promised so much.
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