Another photo from Trix Cooke’s collection sent in by Barbara Taylor.
Another photo from Trix Cooke, this time of the Badminton Team.
Another item of Trix Cooke’s sent in by Barbara Taylor. This is an invoice dated 22nd December 1950 for payment of £24 16/-.
It’s interesting to see how not much has changed in the last 60 years and the bill is being sent to Mr Cooke, presumably Trix’s father. You’ll be relieved to know that the fees were paid the next month:
If you’re interested in what that amount of money represents you can plug it into the National Archives currency converter to find out that £24 16/- is equivalent to 17 days wages for a builder or five stone of wool!
1st August 1951
Dear Miss Cooke
Congratulations on your success in the Final Examination. It does credit both to your own hard work and to the College, and I am all the more pleased about it because I know that it is no mere ‘flash in the pan’ but that your teaching will reflect in days to come the high standards you have set yourself.
With all fond wishes,
M. I. Bain
This letter is one of a number of items sent in by Barbara Taylor, Trix’s niece and herself now headteacher at Burscough Bridge Methodist School. We’ll have more from Trix Cooke soon!
This photo of Edge Hill Secondary Modern School for Boys was published in The Crest, Edge Hill’s magazine, in 1959. The school was built on the site of the original college in Durning Road.
There were Primary and Secondary schools. The Girls’ Secondary Modern was the first to close, in 1973, when it amalgamated with Newsham Secondary into Fairfield Secondary Modern. The Head, Miss C E WATSON, transferred to Fairfield. When it closed in 1982, the head of the infants was Mrs O B WALSH. She remained with Kensington Infants which used the old Edge Hill Secondary Girls’. The Boys’ Secondary school closed in 1982. Pupils were scattered, many of them going to New Heys. The Head, Mr A H THOMAS retired, and the building was used for a time as part of Old Swan Technical College.
The issue is a tribute to Miss J. A. Jenkins who joined the staff fifty years earlier, on – according to Fiona Montgomery’s book – a salary of £100.
Nine pages of the newsletter are dedicated to Miss Jenkins but I’ll just print this one from former Principal E.M. Butterworth.
Although I still enjoy the valued friendship of Miss Jenkins, it was during our last years at Durning Road, Liverpool, that I knew her as a colleague. If, in a short space, I am to write of her in this relationship, what stands out in my mind most clearly is her sympathetic awareness of people, of conditions, of circumstances; and because of this awareness her ability to help. Miss Jenkins as a colleague was alert. She knew what she wanted to achieve, she knew what her colleagues hoped to achieve, and she could always be counted on to help. She had a personal knowledge of the schools, their conditions, their respective difficulties. As Tutor in Education she knew what she was asking a colleague to undertake, the condition of the work, and the effort spent in travelling to do it. Her arrangements in consultation with the Principal, could therefore be accepted without dissension—a great asset in matters as involved as School Practice. What I, personally, valued very much, and I think that I speak for many other colleagues in this, was the practical help that Miss Jenkins gave us in our particular branches of the training. Whether it was in methods of teaching Geography, as in my case, or History, Nature Study, or anything else, Miss Jenkins was quick to perceive what each of us was hoping to do. She knew how short the hours possible for demonstration and group work were and how precious the even shorter time for discussion after-wards. Her practical help, therefore, in coming to these demonstration afternoons was invaluable. When precious time was ebbing away in some real, but minor, point of criticism, raised by a student, and tenaciously followed up by others in the way that students have, Miss Jenkins came to the rescue, perhaps with a touch of humour, perhaps by a question herself: “What did you have in mind when you did this rather than that?” or a comment: “I was most interested by the way the children reacted to this, or that! Did you expect that?” Side issues were thus dropped; real values were perceived and an atmosphere was produced in which useful discussion could follow. In times of School Practices, too, it was a relief to talk over the difficult cases with Miss Jenkins, and the easy ones, too, for when there is so much that is immature and seemingly hopeless during the early struggles of the average teacher, a Tutor was apt to be carried away too enthusiastically by the apparent brilliance of what she might think was “a born teacher.” In talking things over with Miss Jenkins a more balanced view was achieved. The value to her colleagues was that Miss Jenkins could always find time to do this evaluation, and therefore was often called upon to find it. Indeed we used to say that she lived with her door open. Yet there must have been many hours of late work, for piles of Students’ Reports of lessons seemed to succeed each other in her sitting-room waiting for perusal. Not the least service Miss Jenkins did for her colleagues was the supervision of these reports in addition to the reading of them by individual tutors. Miss Jenkins thus put herself in a position to co-ordinate in her own Education lectures what was being done in different departments by the Lecturers and to draw examples from experiences the students themselves had had. This gave a colleague confidence that her work fitted well into place in the educational plan.
Miss Jenkins was great fun as a fellow-traveller. I enjoyed many holidays abroad with her. Whether in the mountains of France or Austria, in Bruges or Dinant, in Paris, Geneva, Grasse, Arles, Nimes or Avignon, in all our many journeyings we never missed a bus, boat, coach or train! Invariably when I was ready for breakfast I found that Miss Jenkins had finished her correspondence, probably having written six or more postcards, and while I made up my belated file, she would be buried in the local time-tables, planning an itinerary by the little vehicles which brought us into such delightful contact with the daily life of peoples. And there was always “delight in simple things.” Whether it was the roosting peacocks at Avignon, the colourful market stalls of Grasse, or the “plus fours” of little Belgian “Willee” were there was fun and laughter; and memories were stored, to be recalled during strenuous terms that followed, and still to be recalled in letters since retirement, and at times when we meet now. A bientot, Miss Jenkins!
E. M. Butterworth.