CHILDREN at St Thomas the Martyr School in Oxford enjoyed a varied curriculum.

Recalling her time as a pupil at the Osney Lane school from 1938 to 1947, Aileen Mason writes: “In the infants’ class (Class 4), we each had our own metal mug, toothbrush and flannel on our own peg in the cloakroom.

“Under the watchful care of softly-spoken Miss Clark, we made pictures in fine silver sand on slate boards, drew in chalk on small blackboards, rode on the wonderful rocking horse, played with toys from the classroom cupboard and learned to live together without much squabbling.

“We learned to sing nursery rhymes, listened to stories and had our afternoon nap on camp beds in the classroom.

“In the tall cupboard, there was always a supply of voluminous knickers – for those little accidents, always discreetly dealt with and, as far as I was aware, with never a cross word.”

In Class 3, under Miss Bates, the children learned to read and later, were given at least one quiet spell each week in which they could choose a book from the tiny school library – one small bookcase – and read on their own.

Mrs Mason, of Owlington Close, Oxford, whose maiden name was Bowell, recalls: “The real business of reading, writing and arithmetic began in earnest from Class 2 under Miss Weston’s tuition.

“She was firm but fair, jolly but not to be taken advantage of, and made us think.

“I wonder if anyone else recalls a Christmas time during the war when, during a power cut, she sang Silent Night (Stille Nacht) to us in German by firelight or candlelight. I thought I’d never heard anything so wonderful in my whole life.

“Lessons continued apace as we went into the top class, Class 1, under Miss Night-ingale, whom most of us held in some awe.

“She was extremely well spoken and always beautifully dressed and well coiffured, with her black wavy hair pulled tightly back into a bun.

“A favourite maxim of hers was: ‘There is no such word as can’t’.

“She had one small habit which made me smile – she liked to stand immediately in front of the fire in winter and discreetly lift her skirt just a fraction at the back so that she could enjoy the heat of the fire on her legs.

“I used to watch and wait for her to do it and grin to myself.”

More of Mrs Mason’s memories next week.