Free Octavia's War by Beryl Kingston Page A

‘This is all perfectly true, Mavis,’ she said. ‘Preparing syllabuses of all the work we propose to do for every pupil in every subject for a full year, maximum and minimum, will take a bit of doing, but syllabuses are the key to the system we run here. If we are going to go on expecting our pupils to take responsibility for all the work they do, we must provide them with syllabuses. They must know exactly what the work is to be well in advance of the lessons that will, if we’ve planned them well enough, trigger the interest that will set their research going. That is the essence of the system.’
    â€˜We can’t let Herr Hitler bully us into changing our system,’ Phillida said. ‘It’s bad enough the way he bullies the Jews. We saw that when we were in Berlin, didn’t we, Helen?’
    â€˜Yes, we did,’ Helen Staples said firmly, ‘and it was absolutely appalling. We need to stand up to the man. I don’t think we should change a thing.’
    â€˜Even if it means a lot more work?’ Octavia asked, smiling, because she was so sure of the answer.
    Helen and Phillida replied with one voice. ‘Yes. Of course.’
    â€˜We shall need young women who can think for themselves more than ever if we’re going to war,’ Mabel Ollerington said. ‘There is a regrettable tendency for governments to tell us what to think when we’re combatants. I can remember that from the Great War. It is understandable but nevertheless regrettable. We must nourish the critical faculty in every way open to us.’
    â€˜I don’t write syllabuses,’ Joan Marshall said, which was true because she taught Games and PE, ‘but I’m with the system every inch of the way. I don’t think we should change a thing.’
    And no more we will, Octavia thought. Not if I have anything to do with it. But she spoke calmly. ‘Is that the general opinion?’
    It was and even Mavis agreed with it when she saw how strongly it was being supported.
    â€˜Of course it would help us if we knew how long we’ve got,’ Alice Genevra said.
    â€˜It could be months,’ Morag told her. ‘It could be years. It all depends on that wretched man and what he does next.’
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    That wretched man kept rather quiet that winter, except for giving a speech in which he claimed that there was no room for independence in the rearing of children and that in future, every German child would grow up knowing only Nazi values.
    â€˜Odious little man,’ Octavia said to her father.
    â€˜He is afraid of anyone who can think for himself,’ J-J said. ‘That is the mark of a dictator. Everybody has to agree with him or run the risk of being sent to a concentration camp.’
    â€˜Exactly so,’ Octavia said. ‘He’s an odious little man.’
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    But Christmas was coming and baby Joan was crawling about and Johnnie had written home to say he’d wangled some Christmas leave, so she put the coming war out of her mind for the holiday. After that the spring term was so busy she barely had time to think of anything beyond the needs of the day.
    First of all, they had to have a gas mask drill, which the girlsmade a great joke of. Then, they were given instructions as to what they would have to do when evacuation was ‘imminent’ and told that further and more detailed instructions would follow ‘in the event’. And then when the staff were scrambling to write the last of their syllabuses, news came through that the German army had invaded Austria, apparently ‘by invitation’ of the new Austrian leader, Seyss-Inquart, who had pushed his predecessor aside only the previous day.
    â€˜Now we’re for it!’ Joan Marshall said, flexing her muscles, as if she were about to oppose the invasion single-handed. ‘They won’t let him get away with this.’
    But nothing was done and three days later triumphant