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Time I went to school to knock this nonsense out of my head – I hadn't a mind then, only a ‘head’. This stage did have a twilight. No doubt it should have been a dawn – the dawn of intelligence. It came to me this way: I was taken along a long road by my ayah together with a little box for my lunch. In this box was some guava cheese of which I was inordinately fond. So far, so good; ‘school’ was making a good start.
Woodstock turned out to be a vast barrack-like building unlike any house I was familiar with. There was a group of three children with whom my ayah left me. The largest one, who wore glasses, appeared to be unhappy; to defend herself against the other two she was repeating in a ritualistic monotone,
“Sticks and stones may break my bones,
But words – they cannot hurt me.”
She seemed peculiarly miserable but staunchly repeated the rhyme while the other two – boys I think – butted her, pushed her and mocked her. They did not tire and only stopped when a bell was rung, whereupon they, dragging me with them – “Come on!” – rushed into a large room of shrieking boys and girls.
“Here, you!” said the nearest one to me, “Do you want a box on the ears?” A box of any sort, thinking of my little lunch box with its guava cheese nestling inside, was attractive.
“Yes”, I said. Whereupon he clouted my head. Shocked, I let out a yell of dismay.
By this time a grown man was trying to restore order by hitting about freely with a ruler at any brat within ruler reach.
“You!” he said, seeing me, “What are you crying about?”
“He hit me!” I wailed.