Mrs Richards

This is an account of a wonderful lady without whom I would never enjoyed the life of music that I have done.

Mrs Richards
By Helen Bawden

I was ten years old. Finally, the day to go to 'big school' had come. The uniform that had been bought and pressed to within an inch of its life was laid out on the chair, newly polished shoes were sat keeping each other company by the back door. I walked down the road on my own, excited and nervous in equal measure and in through the large school gates. The school seemed HUGE. I found out that I was in tutor group 3C. 'C' stood for Cranmere House, the house’s colour was green. Already I envied those in the house named Merrivale which was coloured purple. I often experienced that the sound of words had feelings attached to them. Merrivale had a happy sound & feeling to the word and I liked the colour purple. Mrs. Hanson was the tutor of our rather rowdy mixed year tutor group. She thought nothing of taking her wooden clog off and hurling it across the room at a chattering cheeky boy. 'You lot get on my TIT!' she once shouted. 'What? ALL of us miss?' said cheeky boy suggestively. We were in this room every morning for half an hour and after lunch for fifteen minutes. The rest of the time we were in large year groups moving from subject to subject, classroom to classroom, teacher to teacher. This was a new way of doing school for me since before that - with some exceptions - we remained in our mixed age group classroom from the moment we arrived in the morning to the moment we left at the end of the afternoon; all lessons delivered by one and the same teacher or more accurately through a series of coloured beta books.

Mrs Richards, we were told in that first morning assembly, was a new teacher starting that year, new like my year was, like I was. She was a small bustling no nonsense looking lady with a stern look in her eye out of which a twinkle crept every now and again although not so often in the beginning. We had to line up straight outside of her classroom and have achieved quiet before going in. We soon learned that we might as well get there quickly as we weren't going in otherwise. She was the music teacher. She believed that music was for everybody. She knew of a teacher in a junior school who only gave instruments to pupils who had special lessons or had instruments themselves. With Mrs. Richards EVERYONE was allowed to play. During the lunchtimes there was always a music club to attend. There was choir where she drilled us in our words until we were word perfect whilst keeping us in time and tune with her piano. There was orchestra. I didn't play anything but badly wanted to be there so I turned up brandishing a triangle. She didn't bat an eyelid. Drama club was another one. This time she joined forces with Mr. Griffiths the drama teacher. This extended to an evening class as well. I was there for them all. Before long the production of Oliver was muted, auditions held and rehearsals begun.

I hadn't done anything like that before but a world where everyone burst out singing and dancing at regular moments really appealed to me. I had watched a lot of black & white musicals and had really thought that if I waited long enough everyone around me WOULD suddenly burst out singing and dancing. My only concern was if I would also know all the words and the steps. I didn't know what to audition for, never imagined myself in any lead roles but a friend told me she was going to audition for the part of the rose seller because it had a beautiful song to sing. However, she left before she could audition. This stuck in my mind so I tried for that part not knowing if I could actually sing well enough. I got the part. A very happy few months passed where various teachers joined in, Mr Wrigley playing the part of Fagan, Mrs. Lockyer making the costumes with Mrs Rowberry as her support, Mr. Upton making & painting the scenery and various others providing different kinds of support. It was fun meeting our teachers in a different activity.

Mrs Richards was strict, she was little and feisty. I noticed that not even our tough boys or bully girls dared take her on. She somehow managed to have the respect and liking of everyone. I remember once that whilst on stage practising my song she clearly didn't think I was making enough sound and threatened to 'come up there and open your mouth for you!'. I didn't need telling twice.

The show was a success and as a result of it I was named in the local newspaper as one of the voices to listen out for, a performer to watch. The local operatic society sought me out and I was asked to join. At first my mother said no but finally, after being assured that a lady on the same housing estate would take responsibility for me, pick me up and bring me back home I was allowed to go. The world of musicals was like magic to me and I lived for those rehearsals as I did for my music lessons. 'The Sound of Music' gave way to 'My Fair Lady' to Annie Get Your Gun' and in between there were many a 'Songs From The Shows' programme. In all of them I had solos. I had to stop for a year in my exam year but upon my return I achieved the lead female in the musical 'The Boyfriend'. But I am ahead of myself. Suffice to say that because Mrs Richards 'spotted' me a whole new world opened up for me.

There were a lot of things about Mrs. Richards that were cool. Like the fact that in the last week of the term you were allowed to bring in your own records to be played in the lesson. I remember Steven Aldridge bringing in 'The Magic Roundabout', the theme tune to a small children's programme that was on television every night just before the six o'clock news and featuring such characters as Dougal the dog, Zebedee a jack-in-a-box, Brian a laid-back rabbit and Florence a girl. We were all surprised Steven had brought in this theme tune, even Mrs. Richards looked confused but she put it on anyway. Her face was a picture when an alternative and rude version revealed itself. You could see her struggling to work out what the best course of action might be here. As it was she allowed it to run then told Steven that she'd be watching his choices in future. I don’t know how it came about, probably as a result of one of those 'but-how-did-you-KNOW????' conversations she told us that she was a witch, a white witch. I never doubted that for a moment and well into adulthood I still assumed that to be true.

There were the trips to London that she regularly organised, time in London to go off in twos, threes, small groups to then meet up again for a theatre show. One year I decided I could not go as a girl in the year above who was actually my best friend outside of school but for whom I was punch bag IN school had threatened me that I would be 'got' if I went. I dared not tell Mrs. Richards the real reason I wasn't going but she made it her business to find out and assured me that I would be perfectly safe and that I was going. I believed her and I was.

We did two concerts a year, a Christmas one and a summer one. It was during preparing for a Christmas one that Mrs Richards beloved husband Tony died. We did not know the details but I remember my heart hurting so badly as I realised that this was the very worst time of year to lose someone you loved because every year those same songs would come around and remind you all over again. She continued being at school, preparing for the concert - I don’t remember her missing any days - and that year we sung our hearts out for Tony who had passed on, for Mrs Richards who was holding herself with incredible strength, standing by what she was committed to when most would have withdrawn and stayed away. We sung our hearts out for her and for her heart break.

As the years passed Mrs. Richards could see I loved music. I wanted to learn the piano so I booked some lessons in the small village of Holcombe where I walked the three miles there and back once a week. I had no piano at home to practice on so Mrs. Richards let me stay behind after school and practice on her piano. Unfortunately, those piano lessons in Holcombe did not last long due to the rather scary old lady piano teacher who only seemed to know how to scowl with disappointment and smack your hands for each wrong note you played. As this was not conducive to me being able to either relax or play at my best I gave up. I was to find out years later that most of us at music college had had just exactly that same scary old lady piano teacher at some time or another.

One summer I borrowed a school guitar and started to teach myself to play which I did by following books, listening to songs I wanted to play and watching what others did. I played for hours up in my bedroom. Around age fourteen as Mrs Richards thought I needed another instrument I borrowed the last instrument in her cupboard which was a clarinet. I have to say that having listened to a lot of James Galway my heart had been set on a silver flute but sadly there was no silver flute left to borrow. I worked as a waitress to afford lessons in both the clarinet and music theory. I also got together a group of my friends and we formed a group which we called 'Highlight'. I asked Mrs. Richards to help us with a harmony for Elvis Presley’s 'Only Fools Rush In'. We performed in local town carnival events & in local hotels.

'Oliver' gave way to 'The Snow Queen' to 'A Midsummer's Night Dream' where I had the major part of Titania, the Fairy Queen. I remember in one rehearsal there was some chattering going on in the background whilst I was rehearsing a scene with Oberon, the Fairy King. Mr. Griffiths slammed his book down on the floor and told them to 'be quiet & watch', that 'they could all learn something from watching' me. That felt quite a self-defining moment in my own sense of self and what I already recognised in myself as an attitude of professionalism.

I am not sure why I thought this would be a funny joke to play on Mrs. Richards but one day I hit upon the idea of writing pages and pages of 'lines', something along the lines of 'I must not talk in class' which would indeed have been credible. My friends and I all got together and wrote pages of the things giggling as we imagined her face when we produced them. Finally, we finished them and at the end of the day congregated outside of her classroom waiting for her class to leave. After they left we all trooped in hanging our heads in shame. I think our drama classes must have gone to our heads. We approached her saying how 'very sorry' we were 'miss' and that we 'wouldn't do it again we promised' as we handed her the piles of lines. She took one look at them and told us all off soundly. She did not see the funny side of this at all and was not impressed in the slightest. I never did understand that but now, as a teacher myself, and I reflect back upon this I think it was probably because she did not believe in this type of punishment so was upset to even be thought of as someone capable of putting this mode of punishment into operation.

I don't know when it became clear to Mrs Richards that I needed to study music but conversations with mum already told me that music was nothing 'proper' and that I needed to be getting ready to work in an office, that THIS was a 'real' job. I have no memory of ever telling Mrs. Richards this or, indeed, anything from home but clearly, she did not agree. Unbeknown to me she started to visit the Rockstone Hotel where my mother was a bar maid. She went enough times to make her face familiar after which she then called my mother aside and told her 'you know your daughter really needs to study music'. I don't know any more about this conversation, all I know is that after that I was allowed to pursue music as a career.

Somewhere in my fifth year we had a careers man come to visit those of us in our final year. He had never met any of us before and wouldn't again but he interviewed each one of us one by one. Having asked me what I wanted to do when I left school I answered that I wanted to go on to music college. He told me that this was not a good idea because I was not likely to cope with the competition nor the pressure that achieving a degree would bring. I have no idea why I accepted his words as he surely could not have had any actual knowledge of me but I left there believing him to be right and thinking I'd better think again then. Lucky for me the person I met in the corridor downstairs was Mrs Richards who, having been aware of what we were all doing asked me how I got on? I relayed my changes of plan. I have never seen anyone turn the shade of red she did as she ordered me to 'stand right there and not move' before turning on her heels to ascend those stairs. As I stood and waited I saw said man come flying down the stairs looking somewhat green followed by a much calmer looking Mrs. Richards who informed me that there had been some mistake and that I was indeed going to go and study music.

After that I auditioned for Torquay Tech to do my A levels in Music & English & was accepted. I had to play my guitar and sing a song. I was rather flabbergasted when asked if I was able to tune a guitar? I thought that if you played one you surely knew how to tune it? I guess not necessarily.

Finally, I left school but I don't remember leaving Mrs Richards. Somehow, I must have known I hadn't. The next thing I remember was visiting her after school one day and being incredibly shocked as she described to me that she was no longer allowed to have pupils stay behind after school, nor be alone with any in the classroom and that doors had to be kept open at all times. I was so sad as I realised that if now had been then the whole course of my life would have been completely different and not have any music in it at all. I felt sad for all the children that probably needed music as much as I had and now would not be able to find it. I felt sad for her as I could see she was feeling that she had been left with a much drier job, one full of information giving only. That was the first time I realised that changes were not always for the better, that with many changes there came huge losses of things that were incredibly important, things that were both life changing and lifesaving.

A levels were incredibly hard. We had only done CSE courses and as an A level was an advanced O level with its own way of thinking and working I felt all at sea. There were huge gaps in my knowledge. But not one to be daunted Mrs. Richards sent me fact sheets about things like the development of the symphony orchestra in order that I could catch up. Sometimes I rang her up when I had questions. She always answered, always.

Finally, the A levels were over and I moved on to the Dartington College of Arts that had been the only place I had ever wanted to go and study. It was a creative place full of beauty, character and history with a whole host of inspiring tutors to meet and where you were in charge of your own learning. I completed a Diploma there with a focus upon Music in the Community. From there I moved up to Newcastle Polytechnic to turn that diploma into an honours degree. Each time I returned home to visit I went to see Mrs Richards and told her what I was doing, how I was getting on. In total she followed my journey for 41 years.

The last time I saw her was on Budleigh Salterton Beach where I was for a week's holiday by myself except that that day I had Marguerite, an ex-nun with me. She asked what I was doing now and I was able to tell her that I was now the Deputy Director of a women's a Capella competition chorus. She told me that she was unwell and that she needed hospital treatment soon, that she had moved to Exmouth to be with her daughter. As she did not explain how she was unwell I did not like to ask. I wished her well, thanked her again for all that she had made possible in my life and told her that it was because of her that I had become the teacher I was. She told me 'you were always going to be good. People like you were why I went into teaching. Of course, it's all different now'.

In 2013 I read in the local paper that she had died and I attended her funeral which was a full to bursting with so many ex-pupils that had stories to tell about her and her place in their school memories, even those of THEIR own children. I will be forever grateful that I met her, I owe her my whole life of music and my whole ethos of what it is to be a real teacher. I hope I have done her proud. I hope, too, that I have helped at least one other child to find the music in their life that they needed to find in order to survive their life and to have something meaningful to give.