I have spent today being two not very nice ladies - the first was the very strict Mrs. Harding, housekeeper at the Hall in 1891. The real Mrs. Harding may have been an absolute sweetie, but ours is a tartar.
Then in the afternoon I was Miss Jones, the schoolteacher in 1897. She is not based on a real person, and each of us takes a different name - they started off as Miss Black, Mr. White, Miss Brown etc., but we would have been reduced to Miss Scarlet or Mrs. Peacock by the time I joined the team. I suppose in choosing the name Miss Jones I may have been nodding in the direction of my grandmother and her sisters, all of whom, I believe, were teachers for a time though only Auntie Ethel remained Miss Jones throughout her life and made a lifetime career of teaching. However, Nan held the view that lessons learned in laughter will stick much longer than those taught by fear, wheareas when I introduce my Miss Jones to the children I tell them that "She doesn't like children who fidget, she doesn't like children who chatter, she doesn't like children who giggle and, in short, she does not like children."
Now, this scary lady is generally kept for children in KS2 (junior) schooling. Today's were year two - six and seven years old - and they took it like veterans. I wrote about these same lovely children a couple of months back when I visited their school as Florence Nightingale, and nothing has changed my opinion - they remain lovely, and their teachers had perfectly organised the day.
For the rest of the week we have older children from a school which brings us three full days of workshops each summer and is always excellent.
