More memories from David Knott, Headteacher 1983 - 1990

Mr David Knott, Headteacher 1983 - 1990

I had the privilege of being Headteacher at St Michael’s from August 1984 to July 1989.  I took over from Mr Stan Maskell who retired after some twenty six years in post, ably assisted by his wife, Mrs  Beryl Maskell who was the all-knowing secretary (and some would say, the power behind the throne)!

Being a relatively young head was I was somewhat apprehensive, especially as I was expected to maintain the unbeaten football record established by Mr Maskell!  In fact, a good proportion of my interview concerned the football team and how I would manage it!  Fear not, I bought some soccer boots, a whistle and a track-suit, I read a manual and I gave it a go!  Believe it or not we even won a few matches!  St Michael’s footballing fortunes changed for the better though, when we appointed a relatively young and enthusiastic teacher from Newcastle (Mr McLeod) who knew a lot more about football than I did.  I am sure that the long-serving staff and probably a number of the parents were apprehensive at having a new boy leading the school.  Computers? Science in the curriculum? residential outdoor education courses? a monthly newsletter? demolishing a rickety old (and very unsafe) stage?  Whatever next  .  .  .  ?

I have many fond memories of my time at St Michael’s.  It had a unique sense of community which quickly made me feel very welcome.  The children were a delight to work and it was a joy to come to school each morning.  The parents were most supportive.  Indeed, the PTA, although a force to be reckoned with, mobilised the school community and raised a huge amount of money.  They never said ‘No’ to a request.

I remember my first Christmas well.  It was the penultimate day of term and the staff were gathered in the staffroom for their Christmas lunch – I even brought in a couple of bottles of wine.  As we were tucking into the Christmas pudding, there was an urgent knock at the door and there stood a somewhat sheepish Year 4 or Year 5 boy. “There’s oil on the playground” he said.  “Thank you.  Now go and tell a dinner lady.  Off you go!” said one of my colleagues.  Five minutes later, the dinner lady appeared, ashen-faced and out of breath. “I think you’d better come quickly!” she blurted out.  Foregoing my second mince pie, I decided I ought to check it out.  Sure enough, there was a river of cherry-coloured fuel oil flowing out of the heating oil tank behind the Hall across the lower playground (car park) and disappearing down a drain.

My first thought was to clear the playground of children and stem the flow of oil which was still gushing out of a ruptured pipe;  this was easier said than done –my colleagues were nowhere to be seen, still enjoying their festive lunch.  I summonsed one of the dinner ladies to get me some tea-towels from the kitchen, rolled up my trousers and waded through the oil in the bund which by now was about half- metre deep, to plug the pipe with the tea towels.   Phew!

But what to do with all that oil?  A colleague (a former science teacher) appeared and advised dialling 999.  Within 10 minutes we heard the “blues and twos” and sure enough the trusted Crowthorne Fire Brigade arrived all gung-ho (probably glad of another call-out before Christmas!) . “No problem Guv, we’ll just hose it away!” said Barney McGrew, the Captain.  And with that the high pressure hoses were out and in the space of minutes they washed a few hundred gallons of fuel oil into the drain.   Phew! again.

Whilst all this was happening, my wonderful secretary, Jean Edwards, had called Berkshire County Council for further guidance.  What seemed like minutes later, an environmental health inspector arrived.   A Mr “Jobs-Worth” if ever there was one.  “Do you know the pollution risks?”  “You should never ever  tip oil down the drain!”  “I hope it doesn’t seep into the River Blackwater.”  “You need to know we always prosecute in these cases.  We prosecute  the Headteacher, not the County Council.”   Oh dear!

Then running up the slope from the side gate, came dear old Mrs Grounsell, out of breath and red-faced, looking pretty agitated.  Now Mrs Grounsell, as well as being a cook in the school kitchen, owned the field across the road where she kept several horses.  “There’s thick reddish oil in the stream running through my field and my horses are in danger of drinking it.  What are you going to do about it?”  Oh dear!

At that time the buildings manager from Berkshire Council arrived with a slightly evil grin on his face. “This is a right old mess you’ve got yourself in.  How did you let this happen?”.  Oh dear!

To cut a long story short, the County Council spend a good few thousand pounds hiring in back-hoes and working through the night to dig the oil out of the stream and then damming it to prevent leakage into the River Blackwater.  I might be safe from prosecution.  Phew!

So what caused this catastrophe?  I spent what time there was left of the term trying to find out. Most of the children were tight-lipped and, of course, the dinner ladies on duty saw nothing.  One name, however kept rising to the surface.  One of our more colourful characters – a rouge in Year 5.  I surmised that this individual has climbed the fence to retrieve his football and had jumped on the main fuel pipe leading from the oil tank (which had been filled earlier that week) causing it to fracture.   Despite my best interrogation methods, the lad concerned never owned up.  He knows who he is . . . and I know who he is . . .

For me a sleepless night – followed the next  morning by the Christmas Carol Service in Church which went ahead as planned.  “You look tired!” commented many a parent.  “End of term!”  I replied.  Little did they know.  It was certainly not a relaxing Christmas celebration for me – my stomach was churning all the way through.  I stumbled through my way through the reading and even sang “Little Donkey” out of tune!  At least the next day was start of the holidays.

Then, to cap it all, at about 1100 in bowled the former Head, Stan Maskell.  “Just thought I’d pop in to see how you were managing.  Everything alright?” he cheerfully said!

“Couldn’t be better!” I replied.

Some of Mr Knott's photo memories:

1987 Victorian day 125th Celebration - Mr Knott

1987 Victorian day 125th Celebration

1987 Victorian Day Mr McLeod and Mr Knott

1989 - The Princess Royal, Princess Anne, opens the Pastoral Centre

1987 - St Michael's Cricket Team

1988 - St Michael's Cricket Team

Year 6 class in 1989 with Mr Stuart McLeod (when he still had some hair!)

Year 1 class in 1989 with Mrs Dorothy Bly

Year 6 class in 1989 with Mr Geoff Boulain