KENSINGTON HOSPITAL MEMORIES

KENSINGTON HOSPITAL SCHOOL

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The Hospital School was organised by a dedicated team of teachers, under the leadership of headmistress Miss.V.M.Hall. Making a great contribution to releiving the boredom of a very long day, and assisting our education. The following is a chapter from my book, 'The Balcony Boy', an account by Vesta Stretch, who relates her experiences on teaching at the Hospital, and the lasting
impression it had on her future career. She writes:

" Although I cannot describe my school days as being particularly happy ones, my years spent in grammer school, were the war years 1940-45. I did however gain knowledge having gained a School Certificate in 1945, when the war
was virtually over, and I was looking forward to persuing a further course of study
under happier circumstances.
However, by this time misfortune had struck the family, with my father becoming seriously ill. As I was the second eldest of the family of six children, I left school in order to help out the family finances. It was in December 1945 with
the strains of 'Lord dismiss us with thy blessing' ringing in my ears, that I left school having been assigned a post as an uncertified teacher at a hospital school.When I was forced to leave to leave school, I thought the bottom of the world had fallen, and my education ended. How wrong I was. I knew very little about the place to which I was going, and it was about twenty seven miles, from my home town of Fishguard, in the heart of the country, to which there was no bus
service. I was pickedd up by the hospital bus some fifteen miles away, to travel the
remaining twelve miles. This part of the journey seemed endless, and the fact that
I was leaving home, for the first time, didn't help very much. My first glimpse of the hospital, I shall never forget. I was sitting in the front with the driver, when what lokked like a castle appeared in view, like something out of fairyland. As we
proceeded up the drive to the hospital, one saw a beautiful view of St.Brides Bay, and at the top of the drive, this majestic building, Kensington Hospital, that was to be my weekly home, for as long as the powers that be would allow.
At this hospital there were eighty children of school age all suffering from the
awful tuberculosis bone disease. There were daily school hours for those children
in their respective wards. To my charge was enlisted the teaching of two wards of
boys, whose ages ranged from six to eleven. Some of these children, had not been able to walk for years, most of which were suffering from tubercular spines, and hips, and were strapped to frames, only able to move their heads and arms. There
were very few highlights to their lives, the sight of the mailvan maybe, or the weekly arrival of the 'sausage van'.
These sights to normal children would have no significance whatsoever, but I can still see the excited faces of my charges, as they strained to see them through
the ever open sanatorium windows. The children were allowed monthly visits, if their parents could afford the train fare to the nearest railway station at Haverfordwest. Here they were picked up by the hospital bus, and transported to the hospital. Another treat for the children was a fortnightly film show, whebn they were carried on stretchers, to the playroom, and put in elevated positions to watch the film. There was great excitement on these occasions, and little work was done that day.
Life as you may imagine was not very eventful under the conditions. To me was entrusted the task of assisting the education of these two wards of boys. It was
here through them, I learned the most important lesson of my life, the true meaning of courage and fortitude. The way each bore his cross ,was worthy of our
maker. Todays moaners and groaners, had they seen these children would make them wish the earth would swallow up. Nevertheless , happiness shone, through their suffering. Their written work with their excercise books clipped to a board,
and they wrote, as if on a ceiling above them. My time was spent commuting between the two wards of boys. A regular occurance, was to return to one of the wards to find half of the pencils on the floor, they had accidently dropped; just one of the many tricks they got up to, to avoid work. I well remember having to reproach one boy who was recovering from a tubercular knee, for perpetual straying outside the bedcloths while doing his sums. One day after oe episode,
and having tuckeed him back in bed, I said "come along Robert on with your work", to which he replied " I can't Miss, I only have ten fingers." He had been using his toes to help him, and without them he was helpless.
Outside school hours some of the teachers helped two eveneings a week, to run
a childrens club and Guides.
School at Kensington Hospital, was for me truly a place of learning, a place where I was destined to teach, but where I learned. The benifits I derived were inumerable, Courage,fortitude, Sympathy, Understanding, were just a few of the lessons I learned. This was undoubtedly an experience which no amount of education could have given me, it also made me eternally thankful for the good health of my three children.