grey shorts, knee length socks and one little foundling boy

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
a short story written in the 1950's focusing on the feelings of a young boy, william who was adopted after the war. i wanted to show how it had affected william emotionally and the conditions of school life during this era.

Submitted: July 12, 2016

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Submitted: July 12, 2016



It’s November 16th 1954 and a very dull day in Leicestershire as winter is looming. War is now over and education has become a priority in Britain. Parents are not welcome onto the school grounds so the children said their goodbyes at the gates. Those who attend City Boys School are silently lining up outside their classrooms. They’re all smartly dressed in grey shorts, knee length socks, white buttoned shirts, a tie and a blazer which has the school logo embroiled onto it.

The teacher, Mr Doughty, comes out with his nose in the air and walks along the line as though he is inspecting the pupils. William stands out to Mr Doughty as his shirt isn’t buttoned right to the top and his tie isn’t sitting straight. ‘’Sort your uniform out, boy!’’ he begins to say, his voice becoming increasingly louder. William’s legs quiver. ‘’And stand up straight!’’ he continues.  All the other children snigger to each other, laughing at this lonely boy at the back of the line. ‘Silence, children!’’Mr Doughty bellows.

After inspection, the children go into the classroom and are seated in order of their test results, at wooden desks with an ink well to their left hand side. Today, they’re asked to cite their times tables without making one single mistake. Mr Doughty explains the exercise to the class but notices one pupil isn’t paying attention. Suddenly, he picks up the board rubber and lunches it towards William. ‘Ouch!’ William cries, feeling scared.

‘’Pay attention, you silly boy’’, shouts Mr Doughty. ‘’You got three of them wrong last week’’.‘’I-I-I’m sorry, Sir’’. Replies William. He can hear all of the other children laughing at him and pulling silly faces behind his back.

“What are the tears all about? Come on answer me!” Mr Doughty snaps, in front of all the other children.

“I just, I miss my mum”, he admits, feeling embarrassed.

“Grow up! You’ll see her after school.” Mr Doughty says.

“You don’t understand, nobody understands”. 

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