Just found the 'Bugs Dunny' May 3, 2016 post – must admit it brought back many memories. Unfortunately, with the passage of time, some memories may be a tad wide of the mark. Please forgive me were I to have mis-remembered or merged separate memories into one.
I also started at CL in 1962 but left in '67 as I only achieved three o' level passes; one being woodwork. Hadn't really intended doing woodwork, metalwork being my preferred subject; however, our intended teacher (Mr West, I believe) was killed in a climbing accident, in Saddleworth, and was not replaced (as Wikipedia would say 'citation needed').
Remember my apprehension, on day one of year one, at going to 'big school' which was so far away from home (two bus journeys), turned to fear on day three of term one when Mr Bates (Bully) introduced class 1C to Algebra - 'what is this sorcery, the man is using letters.....?' Three days into secondary education and I'd already lost the plot. Really struggled with Maths, and others, in that first term and was probably lucky to stay in the C stream at the 'Xmas re-shuffle'.
Found Mr Bates, and most of the teachers, extremely intimidating, and retreated to the back row for his lessons. He used to refer to us as 'the back row boys'. Our logic was 'the further away, the better'. Of course we hadn't factored into our logic the well-aimed, flying board-duster. Of Mr Bates I will say that, once I was over my initial fear, he was an extremely patient man: frequently turned up at the staff room door requesting clarification of some point I had not grasped – was never refused help. I continue to hold quite fond memories.
Also remember, with affection, Mr Wilde who (again, my recollection of the facts may be a bit awry) threw himself under a car on Queensway / Kingsway, Rochdale (again, citation needed). He was obviously a tortured soul, but had that knack of getting us fully engaged with the subject.
Brother Patrick also had an infectious enthusiasm. He did, however, give me a bang round the head for something I was doing wrong whilst he was dictating to us. To this day still don't know what I was doing wrong. He did apologise and I forgave – thought he was a good guy.
Brother Joseph, our French teacher – totally different style of teaching: quiet firmness coupled with an eagerness to dish out detention in the form of 'catching up class'.
It wasn't all 'rose-tinted spectacles' though. Had five years of staying below the radar trying not to be noticed, consequences of which could be painful. However, did occasionally fail: Mr Bolan, anyone remember Mr Bolan? - German. Rather stupidly made twelve mistakes in my German homework corrections, for which I was awarded twelve smites of the slipper. Did actually think, at the time, what a caring fellow Mr B was because he split my punishment: 6 strokes at the start of the lesson and 6 strokes at the end. Can still remember, at 70, the warm feeling post-thrashing.
Brother Damian – what a tyrant! He knew how to keep five / six hundred adolescent boys in line; respect to him. Managed to not to come on his radar too often, thankfully. Hell, how could you deal with all that testosterone ? Worked well in the sixties, wouldn't work now, of course.
I have no hangovers from CL, just look back with ambivalence: what a fantastic education was on offer, unfortunately, for me, I did not fully take the opportunity – my bad.
Fifty odd years on memories still strong. Occasionally drive past CL (don't live in the area any more, but condemned to supporting RAFC) and get a spike of nostalgia: the bus stop to Rochdale. If no supervising influence present there was something resembling a rugby (15) maul; some bus drivers (route 17) would just drive past when they saw the throng.
Know guys who have been left with negatives about CL. For me the negatives are to my account.
Nostalgia, what!