Adwick School Tribute Site

A Memorial Site

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Perhaps the only surviving expression of Adwick Uniform

As every other CQD site before the UK referendum this website uses a CSS style sheet based on the former Adwick School’s uniform. The style sheet is still retained on the Archive for the Yorkshire Viking Blog and on this memorial site. If you are a former Adwick School pupil and would like to use the WordPress theme for your own blog, do get in touch!

My personal twin blogs have now dropped the Adwick Theme. The reasons for this are explained on the Archive for the Yorkshire Viking page.

Poetry About Adwick School

I have exported every old article from my blogs that had to do with Adwick School.

There is also a good deal of poetry. If you would like to see this, go to http://adwickschool.cqd.nu/category/philosophical/poetry-philosophical/ You can also see this section by clicking “Poetry” on the menu line. Posts in this section sometimes give you the background to a particular poem, like, for example when our school was being knocked down in April 2013.

I hope you like the revamped Memorial to Adwick School!

Soured Memories of Sweet Sixteen

This post is in response to a writing challenge on The Daily Post. You can see this here http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/only-sixteen. It also marks the first anniversary of Adwick School’s demolition. The post refers exclusively to Adwick School, and (save for the poetic reference to others taking the throne) not to the two institutions that subsequently succeeded it.

That last seat of childhood authority is no more. One year on, I still struggle believing it! That our prestigious institution could so unceremoniously fall to the dust beggars belief.

Sweet Sixteen - in school uniform

Sweet Sixteen – in school uniform

For in truth our Emerald Queen was gone long before her ruined courts were razed. And I find that so hard to comprehend. What in my day was revered if though in dread, these days is scarcely remembered save in contempt. Therefore though those buildings be but newly gone, our world therein is much that longer lost.

While these ruins of our youth remained, they were defamed by those that came after us. A generation that had not seen the glories of our day, remembered them for other things. I too saw her slow decline, I watched her uniform in decay, and I heard of the infamy of her latter day. I still sighed when others took her throne. It was over then, not years later when the buildings went.

Ruins of Adwick School

My childhood world in ruins. Photo: Gerald Sables.

Those that scorn the memory of the Emerald Queen could not have known how once it was, and verily I remember her latter crew. They wore the uniform but as they did please; we were never once given the choice! Yet for all that we rebelled, secretly we admired the place – that final seat of absolute authority over the devices and desires of our own hearts! This is the greatest difference between us and them, and now and then!

That it should have ended the way it did feels so unreal. In my day the uniform was not for negotiation, and whatever I said I loved its distinctive colours of green, and white, and black. I said otherwise when I was a pubescent sixteen year old. Like my protestations against wearing a uniform, I celebrated my (so-called) independence the day I finally left – in both cases an attempt to assert myself in the adult world I entered, yet neither were seriously really meant.

Then came those after us, and they did mean those things they said. Among them those that said they would willingly press the button, that day our school came down. Then my foolish words came back to haunt me. The Emerald Queen was dead.

The Emerald Queen is my poetic name for our demolished school

The Emerald Queen

Alas thou mine emerald queen, whose royal robes were black, and white and green – whose Courts of great austerity were in those fields between, and wast of all with reverence seen, of whomsoever thine had been!

Alas! How thou art brought unto the ground, our palace ruined, thy name renowned! and nought is left of all we had: all is gone and where is found, that love, and fear, and awesome dread?

Alas, thou art gone, and thou art dead, despised of those who never knew thee then (nor us for whom thou wast our head)!

 

Facebook Group Started!

alumni

We are attempting to form an alumni using Facebook

Following the lead of the Percy Jackson alumni, I have created a Facebook Group. I am already a member of the Percy Jackson group on Facebook, and former “piglets” are more than welcome in the Adwick group.

In the current situation, where people only seem to remember the time at the end of our school, and not those years that showed it in a better light, I think Facebook is probably the best way to build our own alumni. The Adwick Group is called “Hey, just a minute. In my day, Adwick School was a very GOOD school”. As you can see from the title, it is intended to be a place for those of us who somehow do not relate to the negative things others (quite a lot of them actually) have been saying.

If you are interested in this group, please read the notes first. These tell you what we are about:

This group is for former Adwick School pupils and staff. More importantly it is for us who have something postive to say about the place, and our time there. We register the fact that some people have other views, especially those who were there in its final decade. Yet the opposing view is that especially before that time, Adwick School used to be a very good one. This is therefore the view that we have in this group.

Please note. By saying that we believe our school used to be very good, this is NOT the same thing as claiming we necessarily always liked it. Some of us did, some of us didn’t.

There is only ONE rule. Please respect it. We have the same rule as the group for the Percy Jackson Grammar School (our predecessor school):

“Please don’t post anything negative or derogatory about any pupil or teacher – let’s just remember the good things.”

Use common sense. The whole point of this group is to remember the good things, or at the very least to say that you don’t quite relate to some other people’s less than flattering accounts.

My dream is that we can build an Adwick alumni. This web page you are on now can also be used too, and I hope it will be. Indeed, there was one point when Adwick School had the pupils who now conceivably might be interested in writing things and/or producing things for this tribute page. This page has the ability to create groups (based on the houses), as you can see from the menu… and the ability to create members only areas. It would really be nice not only to have an organisation that one day could muster reunions, but one that was able to produce something literary too!

In the meantime, however, we first must do that building – getting former pupils to come together. Facebook is probably the best way of doing that. Join our group here! For the time being no log in will be used on this tribute site. However, the “houses” are there…. just waiting for everyone to move into them!

School Graveyard

Senior Wing

A beautifully calm, yet hauntingly eerie picture of where my school once stood! Picture Janet Roberts

Some photographs capture something “more”. On the face of it, this is but a picture of some trees. For us who went there, however, it is the grave of Adwick School. Here stood our senior wing.

There is a wistfull atmosphere. Black and white amplifies this. That maybe entirely subjective, but I am not the only one to pick up on it. There is something “more” to this picture than meets the eye.

Trying to define this something “more” is like chasing a rainbow. The moment you approach it, it moves further away from you. Yet I am not speaking of associations that only we who came here can know about; there is something more, that makes even those who didn’t, to describe it as “haunting”.

For me (qualifying therefore what I write precisely with feedback on my earlier post both from people who did know what used be here and those who have absolutely no personal association with the place) this is both unsettling and very beautiful all at the same time. “Haunting” would therefore be a fitting description.

I have recently received some pictures not only of what used to be here (and off camera in the likewise demolished main building further up to the right), but from our world and time that long have passed. Unfortunately I cannot post these, because they are not for further publication. However, I can tell you they are no less poignant.

Most of these pictures are in black and white. Yet that seems to highlight any associations one actually might have. I do not even notice the absense of colour: that something “more” seems to allow my brain to “see” what is not there!

I find myself transported backwards in time. Once our uniform was very smart and characteristic. Before its lamentable decline in the nineties it was very strictly enforced. As I see my uniform thus again, it is as though I am standing there among those pictured. It is so incredibly “virtual” an experience – to use a modern expression. Yet again the black and white picture but re-enforces this experience!

I am utterly captivated by the photography. This was the world I knew! Yet I cannot bear it too long. That something “more” is unsettling as well. It is a world that has forever gone.

With respect to the hauntingly beautiful, yet eerie picture shown above, we are looking at a graveyard. What now is but some trees and grass, was once our childhood world alas!

 

Queen Spring

An allegoric poem from 1984, with some revisions. It is set to music. I shall publish the melody shortly after making some revisions to that.

demolished

Our demolished school

King Summer now doth take Spring’s Throne
For years we longed to see this day!
And yet, as our Queen now retireth alone,
I beg that she do not go away!

Ye thought my rule so hard and cruel,
Yet now thou pleadest me to stay,
Despising my Laws whilst under my rule….
What wonder is this, good friend, I pray?

And now I go, nor can I stop!
King Summer reign must many years:
Yet hearken thee this – when the leaves start to drop,
Your Queen shall return to wipe thy tears!

What toil hath been to us since then,
When Spring so took retirement,
God speed her return to our land once again*,
In Wonders across His firmament.

*pronounced “a – genn”. This was written in Doncaster, and is one of the few demonstrable cases were that particular dialect can be seen in what I write.