‘Oh! What can sanctify the joys of home?’ – Lord Byron, 1814 While the concept of ‘home’ as a residence has been extant since the 13th century, the idea of home as a place of safety, joy, and affection with family first arose during late 18th and early 19th centuries. Home was becoming a special place. In the 17th century, home was a space of work. Working from home was normative, and it involved the entire family. Each family member contributed to family work, to the extent which they were able. The Industrial Revolution, conversely, introduced working away from home for the first time in a significant way. The home, therefore, became a separate space, often disconnected from work. Home became a symbolic emblem of safety and love. Within this new framework, home became a safe-haven from the chaotic world of work. Thus, from the 18th century, home was a space for the pleasures of family, unsullied by the world. The term ‘homesick’ first entered common parlance during the late 18th century. It was first deployed in 1748 within a religious hymnbook and denoted a spiritual feeling of ‘homesickness’. These ideas expanded beyond the spiritual realm, encompassing a growing sentimentalism for the family home as it changed from the locus of a family’s business & residence to something more. To be ‘homesick’ mourned more than the distance from the safe space of home, however. Its popularity in the 18th century came to represent not only a longing for the space of home, but also for its people. Froebel Demonstration School pupils – and their families – learned the difficulties of navigating these powerful feelings during the Second World War as they were separated from their childhood homes and families. When the Second World War erupted in 1939, myriads of school pupils were relocated. A report published in 1938 indicated that children might need to be evacuated from large cities, if the anticipated war in Europe inaugurated. This plan proceeded two days before Britain declared war on Germany (on 3 September 1939). On 1 September, Operation Pied Piper was initiated. This Operation oversaw the evacuation of 800,000 children from urban targets, including London. Pupils from Froebel Demonstration School were among these masses. In 1939 the Headmistress – Barbara Priestman – began house hunting for a temporary home, which was as close to London ‘as seem[ed] compatible with safety’. A house which would provide a safe haven for these children was prioritised. Priestman was delighted to locate one house in Hertfordshire which fulfilled these requirements. This so-called Dennison House ‘was entirely renovated by an American who understands the need for warmth and light.’ Within a few months of the new academic year, pupils from Froebel Demonstration School had moved to this Dennison House in Hertfordshire – their new home for the next few years. Such a move was an adjustment for these pupils and their families. Children and their families were suddenly separated. Their daily attendance at the ‘Froebel Day School’ was supplanted by residence at a temporary ‘Froebel Boarding School’. Parents and children were induced to exchange letters with one another. Whilst the distance was significant, these communications offered a temporary replacement for natural exchanges which might have occurred in the family home. Robbed of these opportunities by a gruesome war, pupils and their parents tried to remedy feelings of homesickness by sharing a glimpse of their quotidian lives. The School Archives include letters between parents and their son Michael (aged 6-10) whilst he resided at Dennison House. In October 1943 or 1944, Michael sent the following to his father, sharing his progress at school and eagerly anticipating ‘Parents’ Day’. The signature – replete with ‘x’s and ‘o’s demonstrates his strong feelings for his distant parent. ‘Dear Daddy, I can do my tie now. I have finished Book IV in Reading. Miss Duncan says I am getting on very well. We have made a village and I will show it to you on Parents’ Day with love from Michael. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxooooooo’ Homesickness was not the sole remit of children at Little Gaddesden. Parents also expressed concern about the distance between themselves and their children owing to war-time evacuation. A letter written by Barbara Priestman to a parent illustrates this difficult transition. After speaking to the parent on the telephone, Priestman reassured the parent that her son was coping well, noted as a testament to his upbringing. Whilst the parents wished to imminently visit her son in person, Priestman advises her to wait a little bit longer. ‘Dear Mrs G, I felt I Was horribly unsatisfactory on the telephone, but if you could only see Anthony & the way he has settled in you would be proud of yourself as well as of him. I don’t wonder you miss him horribly. It says a tremendous lot for the way you have brought him up that he is able to be happy without you… If you can give him a fortnight to grow a few roots here before you come to see him I think he won’t feel so sad after your visit; but if you really do want to see him before that do come & risk the rest & I will try to arrange that the other children don’t know too much about it.’ This brand of ‘homesickness’ which was facilitated by distant family communications was a perennial issue in this episode of School history. Although teachers made every effort to perpetuate ‘normal life’ for their pupils at Dennison House, children – and their families – expressed relief when the war ended in 1945. In 1946, the ‘Froebel Boarding School’ inhabiting Dennison House relocated to Ibstock Place House, bringing pupils back home, in more ways than one.
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A PDF version of this article may be accessed here. By the turn of the twenty-first century, computers were increasingly becoming part of quotidian life. They were found in offices, increasingly used by teachers in classrooms, and by pupils in their homes. In 2002, S10 pupils prepared for a new GCSE programme on ‘ICT’ (Information Communications Technology). S10 pupil Kamil shared a glimpse into his studies which included using Microsoft Word and Microsoft Access to find creative solutions for businesses such as creating brochures, letter heads, and databases. ‘We used Microsoft Access to solve a company’s traditional methods of data handling, such as filing cabinets and update them to become a fully integrated and functioning ICT-based system.’ In the twenty-first century, computing has certainly become a normative part of school life. When ‘New School’ was opened in 2011, it included two large computer suites with over a dozen computers each – to be used by pupils during class-time, clubs, and breaks. Technology had grown considerably since the mid-twentieth century when computers first came into the fore. An illustration of this advance is noted by the inclusion of a few mid-twentieth century quotes in a 2002 issue of The Ibstonian. Well-known experts in the 1940s and 1950s had been dubious, at best, about the gap which computing systems would fill in the world. ‘Computers in the future may weigh no more than one and a half tons’ – Popular Mechanics, 1949 ‘I think there is a world market for maybe five computers’ - Chairman of IBM, 1943 ‘I have travelled the length and breadth of this country and talked with the best people, and I can assure you that data processing is a fad that won’t last out the year.’ – Editor in charge of Business Books for Prentice Hall, 1957 Despite their eminent qualifications, these experts had not foreseen the indelible and consequential mark which computers would make in society. The trajectory of computing began in the middle of the century and was not absent from the experience of Ibstock Place School. The first recorded IPS interaction with computers dated back to 1970. In 1970, a selection of pupils enjoyed a visit to see a computer at the Merchant Bank in the City of London. This was likely the first experience with a computer for many of the children in attendance. The 1970 School Magazine describes the marvel which this visit elicited. The computer they viewed was a NCR 315 – a second generation machine which was used by businesses in the 1960s and 1970s. As you can see from the picture on the right, housing the hardware for computers like these required an entire room; its weight was around 601 kg. Advertisements, like the one pictured below, indicated it could take around six months to set up this computer, though it was still described as both ‘compact’ and ‘high speed’. These early computers were almost exclusively utilised by businesses to improve data processing and storage. A 1963 USA advertisement suggested it would cost nearly $3,800 per month to install and maintain this system – a price which would have undoubtedly proved difficult for smaller businesses or households, even if they had the space to house such a machine. Data was entered into these computers through punch cards which were fed into the processor and stored in the system. Without a screen, data could only be read by printing it out through the attached ‘high speed printer’. Whilst this was undoubtedly a business machine, the early signs of personal use were already apparent during this visit. The children who visited this NCR 315 described playing Christmas carols and a game of noughts and crosses. When the game reached a stalemate, the printer ejected a sheet of paper ‘with a large cross over it’. Personal use of computers first arose in the 1980s. An article in IPS Treasures in 1984 details the experience of Paul - a year 3 pupil - with his own new computer: a Spectrum 48K. This computer, as pictured on the left, was sold as a keyboard unit which could be connected to any television for its display. These machines were released in 1982 and became Britain’s top-selling microcomputer for a public audience. Software could be accessed on this computer by connecting a cassette tape player through a line port. Paul noted that he was able to write programmes, complete maths homework and play games on the system. His father also asked him to write a programme to ‘list the weeks figures of some shops’ which he also did with ease. IPS procured its first computers for pupil use in 1984. Unfortunately, plans were foiled by a fire which consumed Priestman House later that year. However, the momentum towards computing was not inhibited; in 1985 the academic school year began with a computer suite including eight computers. Claire Peach, the computing teacher at the time, explained how this transition into computing was received by staff and pupils: ‘Several teachers had already seen the tremendous potential for computers in school, but up to that time there had been very little material for use outside the Maths Department and using a computer required a great deal of time and patience as well as technical know-how.’ Ms Peach noted that some members of staff already had experience with computers through the ownership of a Commodore PET. These small machines had a tiny screen, no colour, no sound and no disc drives; their functionality was apparently limited. Thus, whilst her enthusiasm for the anticipated ‘computing turn’ some staff members were dubious. As she noted ‘It was hardly surprising that most of the teachers could see the snags rather than the advantages of computers in school’. Pupils were similarly disparate in their responses. Ms Peach described beginning the academic year with a selection of enthusiastic pupils, though the group waned when pupils realized ‘they could not just play games’. A dedicated number of pupils persevered, however, and by the summer of 1986, the first O/CSE course was completed in Computer Studies. Since 1986, the School investment in computing has grown exponentially. The opening of the new Froebel Science and Technology Centre was celebrated in 1992. This new building which housed Maths, Science, Information Technology and Design Technology included the addition of twelve new IBM computers. Enthusiasm for this new installment was palpable, as these facilities were considered ‘the envy of many schools’. These computers were updated in 1996, allowing pupils to develop a wide range of skills using CD-ROMs and graphic design software. In 1998 a new IT suite with 24 networked PCs was opened in Priestman House 2 (now Roberts Hall). From September of that year, the Information Technology dept was renamed Information Communications Technology – reflecting ‘on the changing role that ICT has in schools, industry, and society in general’. By the next year (the end of the twentieth century), ICT had been fully integrated into the curriculum, from kindergarten onwards.
A PDF version of this article may be accessed here. In 2020, the new Ibstock Place School refectory was inaugurated; with a design which was acclaimed for its naturally-ventilated timber design. This stunning facility, undoubtedly, has provided an enjoyable space for pupils and staff to congregate and socialize (albeit, in a socially distanced manner for now). It joins its predecessors in the School Archives which are replete with documents showing the value of the dining experience. Indeed, dining held an important place with its physical, social, and moral value in the School’s past. The first official dining hall at Ibstock Place School was opened a year after the School began its residence at Ibstock Place House. Indeed, Ibstock Place had been purchased by the Froebel Institute with a view to moving its Demonstration School from its temporary ‘evacuation’ location (Dennison House in Little Gaddesden) into Roehampton, directly across from the Froebel Training College (now Roehampton University). The School purchased the house from Major John Paget in the Summer of 1945. However, the property remained under possession of the Ministry of Supply, which had utilised the space during the Second World War as a headquarters for the first British Radio Observatory. While children moved onto the campus in October 1946, it was not until July 1947 that the Ministry fully removed itself, leaving the temporary huts to the School’s disposal. One of these huts became the new dining hall. (figure 1) This dining hall remained in place until the 1990s, when it was replaced by the current refectory’s predecessor. Social Spaces of Dining Dining was often highlighted as a much-enjoyed part of pupil life. In the early 1900s, Headmistress Anne Yelland sent a note home to parents asking that dinner be reserved only for those pupils not local to the School (then, in West Kensington). Ostensibly, the dining room was oversubscribed, which created additional work for matrons and mistresses. ‘Miss Yelland thinks that perhaps it is not quite clearly understood that dinner is only provided for children living at a distance…’ (Figure 2) In a 1937, the pleasure of dining is echoed in a pupil poem written about the Frobel Education Institute. This upper IV poet illustrated dinner as a social period which it would be a crime to stop. ‘There dinner is the noisiest time (To stop the din would be a crime!)’ The experience of dining was, of course, not restricted to the aforementioned dining spaces at the School. Pupils commented often upon their love of food and dining beyond the School in their excerpts in the annual ‘School Magazine’. In 1959, 12 year-old David identified his favourite dish (which he shared with his family) as a German dish called ‘katofalm coucken’. In a short essay, he instructed readers how they might create this delicious meal for themselves. ‘…first you peel some potatoes and then grind them on a lemon grinder then put the ground potatoes through a sieve to get the potato flour out; after this add some plain flour, then make this mixture into pancakes and fry them. It is best to eat these pancakes when they are still hot. You can put sugar or jam on them but I find them too sweet so I put mashed apples on them; this is called “affel nose” in German. When I am at home and we have it we have about three fat ones each. I like them more than any meat even chicken or chops.’ A couple years earlier, in 1955, 12 year-old Richard shared his love for porridge and stew, two meals he enjoyed to eat, and cook, while camping with his classmates. He confidently - and cautiously - recommended himself as a reliable cook for either dish. ‘The thing I like cooking most is porridge or stew. I seem to have a way with stew and porridge. I do not know what it is but they always seem to turn out with me. I do not know whether it is a natural gift or if it is because I have learnt through experience, or what, but it always turns out. Although I suppose I should not count my chickens before they hatch.’ Understandably, dining was often highlighted for its social and physical benefits. However, the experience of dining also imbued certain ‘moral’ characteristics, as noted in the Archives. Dining as a moral experience Important decisions about diet were emphasized in relevant lessons, unsurprisingly. These can be sensed in the writing of 13 year old Timothy, who reflected upon the subject in 1954. Timothy concluded that moderation was a key factor in identifying what to eat. He began his short essay for the ‘School Magazine’ noting the tendency for some people to consider eating as a hobby. ‘These people,’ he asserted ‘do nothing but look forward to breakfast, lunch, tea and supper in rotation.’ Alternatively, Timothy noted, you might find the other extreme in which pupil are far too busy to engage in proper meals: ‘These people treat meals as a boring habit, that has to be kept to keep fit, or shall we say alive’. Timothy argues in favour of moderation, though he is apprehensive to reveal whether or not he judiciously follows this advice himself… ‘Then there are other people who find the happy medium. Those people enjoy their meals, they take them philosophically and do not grumble at having to have their food. I personally try to belong to the latter group, although whether I succeed or not will not be brought into this essay.’ Interestingly, this ethical view of eating harkens back to the pedagogical roots of the School. The moderate and, indeed, intentional consumption of ‘good food’ was highlighted in pedagogical literature for teachers – as well as for parents. In 1879, Froebel advised his readers of the imperative to teach children to discern between good and bad food for the body. ‘Show them that the use of unripe things is contrary to Nature. Lead them to understand that the use of what is unripe is dangerous alike to physical, intellectual, and moral life – is destructive both to the individual and to society.’ He further asserted an extant link between discerning what food is bad for the body and other consumables which might wreak havoc on the soul. ‘The taste of a thing tells whether the thing itself is beneficial or baleful, life-giving or life-destroying. Indeed, all the senses exist in order that through them the soul of things may be known to the soul of the sensitive being.’ In teaching children to hone their ‘tasting’ skills, Froebel believed, educators were preparing children to discern moral characteristics. This theory, perhaps, best translates with a classroom example. Froebelian educationalist Elizabeth Harrison, in 1890, described one lesson in her school in which she used the Froebel blocks – and an imagined ‘breakfast table’ - to inculcate moral skills. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- ‘One morning, while giving a lesson with the building blocks, we made an oblong form, which I asked one of the children to name. “It is a table – a breakfast table,” “Let us play they are all breakfast tables,” said I; “I will come around and visit each one, and see what the little children have to eat. ‘What is on your table, Helen?” “oh!” exclaimed she in eager delight, “my children have ice-cream and cake, and soda water, and” – “oh, dear” oh, dear “ cried I, holding up my hands; “poor little things, just think of their having such a thoughtless mamma, who didn’t know how to give them good, wholesome food for their breakfast! How can they ever grow strong and big on such stuff as that? What is on your table, Frank?” “My children have bread and butter, oatmeal and cream, and baked potatoes.,” said the discreet young father. “Ah!” said I, in a tone of intense satisfaction, “now here is a sensible mamma, who knows how to take care of her children!” “Oh!” broke in little Helen, “my children’s mamma came into the room, and when she saw what they were eating she jerked the ice-cream off the table.” The significant gesture which accompanied the emphatic tone, told of the sudden revolution which had taken place in the child’s mind as to the right kinds of food for carefully reared children. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- The dining experience enjoys a lengthy history at Ibstock – from its roots in a pedagogy which identifies it as a crucial component to cultivating well-rounded young people, to its significance in providing spaces for social and individual pleasure. We trust that the new refectory may yield many more years of such evidence for the School Archives. References School Magazine, 1937 School Magazine, 1955 School Magazine, 1959 Mother play and nursery songs 1879 Mother-play and Nursery Songs with notes to mothers by Friedrich Froebel. Good Health by Miss Elizabeth Harrison A PDF copy of this article may be accessed here. A detailed review of the full 'age extension debate' may be accessed here. When former pupil, Matthew, described his experience at Ibstock Place School in the 1970s, he was keen to highlight a substantial distinction between life then and now. During his enrolment at IPS, the School was a boarding school and a day school – indeed, many pupils who attended at that time were boarding pupils. School space was not unaffected by this mode of operation. To the left of the main staircase (upon entering the School), the present-day first floor classrooms and offices were dormitories for boys. To the right (where offices and the staff room are presently found) were the girls’ dormitories (figure 1). Beginning in 1968, conversations about the discontinuation of the boarding facilities were arising. Some parents and staff were keen to extend the age of the school – which then ended at 13 years. To accommodate a larger pupil population, they admitted, would likely mean relinquishing the boarding facilities – a decision which was not attractive to all IPS stakeholders. One board member, remarking in 1968, was utterly inimical to the prospect. ‘I am loathe to get rid of boarding’ he asserted. He proceeded to suggest that a removal of boarding would leave the School bereft of a ‘home like quality’ which he believed many found valuable. In his letter he asserted, 'The family domesticity, which is the core of our present school would no longer be there. What would come in its place? (figure 2) [1] The identification of IPS as a boarding school is important to this debate. Interestingly, boarding was not part of the School’s historic provision. IPS, formerly the Froebel Demonstration School, had been a day school from its inception in 1894 until the beginning of the Second World War in 1939. Indeed, it was in this year when the School became a boarding school by necessity, as pupils evacuated to Little Gaddesden, in Hertfordshire. They took residence in a lovely house – called Dennison House - discovered by their Headmistress Barbara Priestman. The important home-like quality was on Miss Priestman’s mind when she found the house. In a letter to the School committee she noted this house – soon to be home for the School – was, characterised by its ‘warmth and light’. (read this letter here).[2] Thus, the School began its boarding school years as a safe haven during the Second World War. Central to its remit was to provide a happy and protected space for children. In 1971, two former Dennison House boarders visited the grounds with the School Headmistress. They remarked fondly upon the safe and happy memories they had acquired there.[3] Indeed, such safety and happiness was paramount. In a letter home to a parent in 1939, Barbara Priestman tried to assuage concerns about their child, remarking upon how happy and safe their son was ‘like a person at peace with himself and the world; suspecting no evil & so far I hope finding none.’[4] When the Demonstration School moved into Ibstock Place House in 1946, this provision continued, and the emphasis on a ‘separate space’ provided by boarding was perpetuated. For some children, as was reported by the committee, boarding facilities provided a safe space which was removed from difficulties at home: ‘it is undoubtedly true that there seems to be a growing number of broken homes & a growing need for schools such as ours where children can get stability & security for at least part of their lives.’[5] As discussions about extending the age of the School began in 1968 (and into the 1970s), a key factor in this debate was space, which was already in short supply. Staff and parents who supported the age-extension were happy to abolish the boarding provision to make space for extra classrooms. This would involve ‘dormitories turned into classrooms, ancillary rooms to cloakrooms…’ as noted in the plans. Ostensibly, extending the age of pupils from 13 to (minimally) 16, accompanied changes which were unpalatable to some – especially the loss of the boarding facilities. For many, these were viewed as too great a sacrifice. On the other hand, there were stakeholders who vehemently advocated for the age extension as a priority over boarding facilities. One parent, in 1970, wrote enthusiastically in support of an age extension, highlighting the positive impact it would yield for his family: ‘We would send all four of our children with the greatest of pleasure and, I might add no little relief’ he asserted in his letter. (figure 4) His family lived in the area of Roehampton and identified the benefit this would be for their ‘very closely-knit family’.[6] This point was echoed by others in the IPS community. In February 1970, a working party investigated the mood regarding age-extension. Evidently, parents who lived in the area benefited from no close progressive co-education day schools. Bereft of this option, children over 13 were being sent away from home to comparable boarding schools. If a suitable option existed closer to home, they suggested, they would happily make use of it. Which was of a greater benefit to children? Close access to their domestic life into their older years, or the preservation of a separate-from-home boarding provision? The debates over this issue were significant enough to close the matter temporarily from 1970 until 1975. Once the project reopened in 1975, the age extension was agreed within a year. The first cohort of year 10 pupils were admitted in 1977 and the boarding provision ceased. [1] Age Extension Minutes, 1968 [2] Letter from Barbara Priestman [3] Reminiscences of former School pupils, 1971 [4] Letter from B Priestman to a parent 1939 [5] Age Extension Minutes, 1968 [6] Letter from Bob (a parent) 1970 A PDF copy of this article may be accessed here. The Duchess of Sutherland was the first owner of ‘St Serf’s House’ the current Main House of Ibstock Place School, built in the early 1900s. She purchased this house in 1913, as an ‘out of town residence’. It is undeniable that she had exquisite taste – as noted by catalogues and articles which detail the furnishings which decorated the building. What is more interesting, and perhaps little known to pupils and staff at Ibstock Place School, is the passionate commitment to education and philanthropic work – especially for children – which characterised the Duchess of Sutherland in the years before she procured this house. To get a taste for her passion, we go back to 1900, and the initiation of the Cripples’ Guild. 1900: The initiation of the Cripples Guild On 10th March 1900 the Hanley Town Hall was busy with anticipation of an upcoming meeting. Attendees entered the Town Hall, which had formerly been ‘Queen’s Hotel’ – a magnificent red-brick design, with some neo-classical features; it was converted in 1884. Through the main entryway they would have entered, flanked by two rustic columns, passing underneath the crest created by John Ridgeway in 1869 –a kneeling dromedary (an Arabic camel) atop the Hanley Coat of Arms.[i] As they were led through the ornate corridors and towards the meeting room, they may have noticed a room filled with children, a gathering of the ‘Cinderella Club’; the children would have been delightfully consuming the cake, bread, and oranges which were made available to them. Millicent, the Duchess of Sutherland, chatted with the children, and then moved into the meeting room to address the group. “I have asked you to come here this afternoon because I am very anxious to carry out the desire I have had for several years to take some definite action on behalf of the crippled children of the Potteries. You have seen some of them for yourselves but it is difficult to realise their suffering. I have seen over 250 of them brought for a holiday to Trentham Gardens and the sight is heart rending…we have begun in Hanley because it was considered the most convenient centre. But our effort must not end with Hanley.”[ii] The Duchess prevailed upon the attendees of this event to assist her with improving the lives of crippled children. Three years before, in 1897, she had set-up a holiday home for poor children in Trentham Estate. She turned her interests soon thereafter specifically to crippled children, seeking to improve their circumstances. While the particular causes of the crippling are not mentioned, some deductions can be made according to the general experience of this period. Causes of Crippling An 1886 edition of Popular Science Magazine suggests the crippling of children can be attributed to poor parenting. In families with working mothers, it suggests, the children were locked up in a room on their own or left with an ambivalent neighbour who would not properly care for the child. Children of well-off families were also at risk due to ‘bumbling nurse-maids’ whose neglect resulted in chronic injuries. The article suggests that often, it was “as much an act of abandonment as that of the heathen mother, who throws her babe into the jaws of the crocodile of the sacred river.”[iii] Difficult home life was one renowned cause of developmental issues. Perhaps even more widely detrimental, however were effects of child labour. Although a wide range of ‘Education Acts’ had passed in Britain which required children to be educated up to their teen years and to restrict childhood employment, these laws presented difficulties for working-class families who counted on the labour of their children to survive. Indeed, Potteries in the early 20th century were replete with child-workers, holding a variety of positions. Poor working conditions were still common, even in the late 19th century; one of which, significantly, was the presence of lead within pottery glazes. While today it is widely accepted that exposure to lead can cause chronic illness and developmental issues, it was less recognised in the 19th century. The Duchess of Sutherland researched extensively on the subject, and became convinced of its harmful effects. She wrote a chapter ‘On the dangerous process in the potting industry’ which elucidated various concerns. In July 1898 she held a ‘lead-poisoning party’ to spread awareness of this detrimental issue. Due to her, and the work of other activists, the government issued new regulations regarding uses of lead in 1903, which resulted in a 40% drop in lead poisoning incidents.[iv] While documents which describe the Cripples’ Guild do not specifically note what caused the incumbent children’s deformities – there is good reason to presume that many issues would have been caused by the poor working conditions to which they were exposed. The Duchess, however, was not only concerned with preventative measures (to ensure further children were not exposed to the detrimental effects of these conditions) she also involved herself in their treatment and improvement. This, she believed, was best dealt with through education and training. Education as rehabilitation In a 1904 issue of Charity Organisation Review, the Duchess discusses her extensive work in the potteries cripples’ guild. She asserts as her aim “not only the relief of the physical pain, but the development of the individuality of a deformed child.” The children in the Cripples’ Guild were instructed in a variety of trades – most notably, of course their pottery and metal work which was sold commercially (by the year 1910 the Duchess had opened a store in Bond Street, London to sell some of these creations).[v] Children in the Guild were involved in a variety of other successful trades too: making artificial flowers, flower-basket weaving, and book-binding to name a few. The Duchess utilised her interest in beautiful décor to assist the children in their creations; she procured inspiration for their art from Museums and Collections throughout Europe.[vi] The Duchess believed that opportunities for improvement were best conceived through education and training, so they might become ‘self-respecting’ members of the community. Indeed, it was believed that if the children could be trained in a trade which would allow them to be self-sufficient, it would be far more beneficial than simply curing physical pain. The Duchess notes in her article that it was undoubtedly difficult to teach these children – it required much patience, though it was indisputably worthwhile when even a few lives were changed from ‘utter hopelessness to comparative comfort and hope.’[vii]
Ibstock Place School All of the above events took place just a few years before the Duchess of Sutherland acquired ‘St Serf’s House’ in Roehampton in 1913. She immediately began to oversee significant extensions of this lovely home, originally designed by architect Frank Chesterton. One can only speculate what she might have done with this lovely home – might she have used it exclusively as a residence? Or would she have enlisted in as part of another philanthropic cause? Whatever her goals – they were truncated by the First World War, which she joined as an ambulance driver in France in 1914. At this time she was a widow (the Duke of Sutherland had died in 1913) and she married Brigadier-General Percy Desmond Fitzgerald. France became her new home, and ‘St Serf’s House’ was to be sold to the Paget family in 1925.[viii] Had the Duchess of Sutherland remained in England during/after the war Serf’s House may have been used in the same vein as Trentham Estate. It is noteworthy that this building, which became a residence in the 1920s, a military post in the 1940s…was eventually to return to use in a manner which the Duchess was clearly very passionate - the education of children – when it became the home of Ibstock Place School. [i] Thepotteries.org. (2019). Hanley Town Hall. [online] Available at: http://www.thepotteries.org/tour/070.htm [Accessed 8 Jan. 2019]. [ii] Adams, D. (1978). Millicent, Duchess of Sutherland and the potteries and Newcastle Cripples' Guild. [Newcastle-under-Lyme]: Staffordshire County Library. [iii] Crippling of Children (1886). Popular Science, (7), pp.685-686. [iv] Stuart, D. (1982). Dear Duchess. London: Gollancz, p 109. [v] Adams, D. (1978). Millicent, Duchess of Sutherland and the potteries and Newcastle Cripples' Guild. [Newcastle-under-Lyme]: Staffordshire County Library, p. 9. [vi] Adams, D. (1978). Millicent, Duchess of Sutherland and the potteries and Newcastle Cripples' Guild. [Newcastle-under-Lyme]: Staffordshire County Library, p. 10. [vii] Duchess of Sutherland, M. (1904). The Work of the Potteries Cripples' Guild. Charity Organisational Review, 16(92), pp.81-85. [viii] Adams, D. (1978). Millicent, Duchess of Sutherland and the potteries and Newcastle Cripples' Guild. [Newcastle-under-Lyme]: Staffordshire County Library. p. 11 A PDF copy of this article may be accessed here. In 1905, teacher Kate McCracken compiled her teacher notes on using Froebel Gifts whilst working at the Froebel Demonstration School in Kensington. These bound loose-leaf papers, now worn with age, offer insight into their pedagogical use in the early twentieth century. Ms McCracken ardently emphasises the physical, mental and moral effects of incorporating Froebel Gifts into the curriculum: Physical: Manipulating power is increased. The eye is trained. Mental: The child learns new words in describing etc. The child’s knowledge of numbers is increased. The aesthetic sense is trained in making forms of life, beauty and knowledge. Observation, imagination and creative powers are developed. The child’s knowledge of geometry is increased. Moral: Habits of order are increased. Perfection, accuracy, neatness are increased. Further pages of Ms McCracken’s notes share how the Gifts might be effectively embedded into lessons, with accompanying illustrations (For ex: Figure 1). What were these lauded Gifts, and what was their part in the early pedagogical practice of IPS? The answer begins with Friedrich Froebel: Friedrich Froebel was a German pedagogue, born in 1782, renowned for his contribution to early-years education. So influential was his contribution, that it is to him we owe invention of the ‘kindergarten’. Experiential learning was key to his educational theory: he believed that children needed to interact with the world to effectively learn. Thus, for him, play was the salient aspect of children’s education. Indeed, Froebel attributed play with spiritual attributes when he asserted that play… '…is the purest and most spiritual product of the child, and at the same time it is a type and copy of human life at all stages and in all relations. So it induces joy, freedom, contentment, inner and outer repose, peace with all the world. From it flows all good.' Using play - or educational games and activities - was key to forging a healthy and harmonious link between the self and the surrounding world, he claimed. Interpreting and understanding ostensible 'opposites' in the world was readily achieved with play. Froebel saw play as 'the product of the connection of related opposite' which was constituted by 'the free activity of the child and the mobility and consequent responsiveness of the object.' The role of teachers, argued Froebel, was to facilitate this harmony by encouraging them to engage in structured play: in part, by incorporating the use of 'Froebel Gifts'. These Gifts which were, reportedly, the first educational tools for play, encouraged children both to explore the world and to hone their creative skills. Gifts were to be utilised in education in order to encourage a child to make connections between him/herself and the surrounding world. These Froebel Gifts included six distinct sets which were distributed by age group. The first two Gifts acquainted children with different shapes, encouraging them to consider the relationship between self and the objects. These included the following: Gift 1: a box of yarn balls which are 1.5 inches in diameter, including red, yellow, blue, orange, green and purple colours. (ages 1-2). Gift 2: a wooden ball (1.5 inches in diameter), with accompanying cylinder, cube, and suspending frame. The last four gifts were categorised as ‘Building Gifts’. Composed of various elements, each Gift was received as a whole. Children were, then, encouraged to modify the components whilst drawing upon their creative impulses. Gift 3: a 2 inch cube which was divided into eight smaller 1-inch cubes (ages 2-3). Gift 4: a 2-inch cube which was divided into eight oblongs (ages 2-3). Gift 5: a 3 inch cube formed of 27 smaller cubes (ages 3-4). Gift 6: a 3-inch cube divided into 27 oblongs (ages 4-5). Accompanying the ‘building gifts’ were a set of rules which Froebel generated for their use. Crucially, these rules encouraged the development of language skills, cultivating independent thought and respect, and team-work.
Ms McCracken, evidently, also saw the need to incorporate some additional rules for the ‘Building Gifts’ which she listed in her teacher notes for the Demonstration School (Figure 2), with emphasis on orderliness and method: 1. No building should be destroyed which has been constructed. 2. Each new form should be developed by a slight change from the previous one. This trains the child to be methodical in his work. 3. All the cubes must be used in all buildings. 4. After the children have finished building the blocks should be placed in the original cube and put in the boxes. These gifts were utilised by Froebelian educators to facilitate structured play, with which children learned to imagine the environment and create it in multifarious ways. As the opening narrative suggests, these tools were utilised at the School from the early 1900s and associated pedagogical advice for teachers was plentiful. Their continued use throughout the School curriculum is evident until the middle of the twentieth century (Figure 4). |
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