Helen's Story
In Care 1953 – 1956 - St Joseph's Home, Darlington In the Autumn of 1953 my sister and I were taken
into care by the local authority.
One day my sister Eileen remembers that we were sitting on a step of some sort when a black car pulled up. A lady got out of the car and said she had come to collect us and took our hands and we went meekly with her. The car stopped outside a very large house and we got out and found ourselves for the next couple of years at St Joseph’s Home in Darlington. Any memories either of us had of what had gone before quickly faded… |
St Joseph’s quickly became my new reality. I
remember nothing before this time. One of my earliest memories is of a
large room with a wooden floor and large fireplace with a guard around it, a
large wooden slide in front of an enormous almost floor to ceiling
window. This was “the Nursery”; the place where the pre-schoolers, where
the under- five’s played, ate and remained all day under the supervision of a
nun or teenage girls who also lived in this big house.
I do not remember having any fun, or playing. I do not remember any moments of softness, stories, or any emotional attachments whatsoever. I remember constantly asking to see Eileen, and not being allowed to do so. Emotional relationships of any kind were frowned upon, even between siblings as the chances of you remaining together as friends or even siblings were not high. You were kept clean and fed and simply dressed in a uniform way, most of us dressing in identical clothes. Basic physical health needs were taken care of but, the emotional needs of children were not something which were met.
The nuns were not encouraged to form attachments with any of the children and the children, often quite damaged emotionally on arrival, were suspicious of one another. Up to the age of five, children had a kind of protection within the nursery environment from the older girls and the outside world. However, older girls were given responsibilities and domestic chores as part of their daily routines and their contribution to the life of the convent and the running of the orphanage. This meant they were often involved in the bathing and washing and cleaning of dormitories along with the supervision of the younger children. This was not an ideal role for girls who themselves had not necessarily had good experiences of nurturing or caring, and who themselves were often damaged emotionally.
I do not remember having any fun, or playing. I do not remember any moments of softness, stories, or any emotional attachments whatsoever. I remember constantly asking to see Eileen, and not being allowed to do so. Emotional relationships of any kind were frowned upon, even between siblings as the chances of you remaining together as friends or even siblings were not high. You were kept clean and fed and simply dressed in a uniform way, most of us dressing in identical clothes. Basic physical health needs were taken care of but, the emotional needs of children were not something which were met.
The nuns were not encouraged to form attachments with any of the children and the children, often quite damaged emotionally on arrival, were suspicious of one another. Up to the age of five, children had a kind of protection within the nursery environment from the older girls and the outside world. However, older girls were given responsibilities and domestic chores as part of their daily routines and their contribution to the life of the convent and the running of the orphanage. This meant they were often involved in the bathing and washing and cleaning of dormitories along with the supervision of the younger children. This was not an ideal role for girls who themselves had not necessarily had good experiences of nurturing or caring, and who themselves were often damaged emotionally.
This was still an age when even in the wider
context of normal family life, children were expected to be "seen and not
heard." It was a world long before the Childrens' Act; before ChildLine
and although the 1950s were relatively enlightened in terms of social
improvements, education and health services, there was no sense that children needed
to have things explained to them, let alone accept that they contribute their
own views and opinions. Consequently, no one ever spoke to the girls, or to
Eileen or me, to explain where our mother or father were or why we were there.
No one ever explained why - even though Eileen and I inhabited the same
orphanage - we were not allowed to see each other. No one explained how long
you were going to be at this place. There was no one to talk to at all.
Consequently, most children became either withdrawn or aggressive, rather
furtive and suspicious.
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Some
children came for relatively short periods of family crisis. Others shuttled
backwards and forwards between the Home and their own dysfunctional families.
This was just over a decade after children in England were being sent as
evacuees to outside the cities, and other parts of the world to avoid the
bombing. It was a nation used to shifting its children around and not
necessarily being too precious about it. Brothers and sisters were sent to
separate homes and had no contact. Children were sometimes found foster homes,
but this was rare. Adoption was not usually an option for the children at St
Joseph's. This was the age of a baby boom when plenty of babies born out
of wedlock, often in homes for "unmarried mothers" were available for
adoption, so the chances of toddlers and older children being adopted was
minimal. Older couples were often the only option for a child in Orphanage,
once past the baby stage. Childless couples long for a baby, not usually for a
child who has been institutionalised for several years.
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As a child in the Nursery, I was not expected to do
any domestic chores as such, apart from stripping my bed on a morning if I had
wet the bed, which I frequently had. From the age of five, girls
at the home were expected to gradually take on household chores. Soon after our
arrival at St. Joseph’s Eileen was expected to play her part with rotas for
washing up, polishing floors and banisters and another domestic duties.
The older girls in the Orphanage were given a lot of responsibility and I do remember occasionally they would look after the younger ones in the dormitories and supervise bathing and hair washing. This was a horrible and frightening experience as we queued up to be bathed and were generally humiliated and frightened by them. I remember one of their favourite tricks was to pull the plug out and as the water was draining away; they would tell you that you were also going to be sucked down the plughole. They would then prevent you from climbing out of the bath and escaping. All my life, I have never been one of those people who got into a bath and had a good, long, relaxing soak. I always saw bathing as something you did as quickly as you possibly could. |
I
remember once two young children were being admitted to the nursery. They were
about the same age as me and both the girls had long hair. I think I was
about 4 years old at the time. A nun was cutting off their long hair and
throwing it into the blazing fire behind the big fire guard. You could hear the
hair hissing, the smell was horrendous. The girls were both crying and
protesting but still it continued. The nun kept at her task and eventually,
once the hair was short, she then used one of those barber’s cutters and shaved
the hair completely down to just a shadow on the top of their heads. The two
little girls both had a lot of red sores on their head because of the
infestation of lice and eventually the nun rubbed something strong smelling
into their head. The nun was wearing a grey apron over her habit and she
had turned up the huge sleeves of her black dress and I could see her white
arms underneath. Eventually, the girls’ hair grew. But all the children in
the Home had to have short, identical "Tom cuts". Eileen and I
had very short hair when we were eventually fostered two years later and I
wondered if we too had had our heads shaved when we had been admitted to the
Home. I don't know and Eileen talked so little about those times when we were
growing up. Her memories were all horrid ones and I think she was really
traumatised by the things she had seen in her young life. She was much quieter
and more withdrawn than I was, though I think her nature, like mine, was to be
outgoing and enjoy herself but in those early years, she had had this almost
suppressed as she found safety in conforming and not standing out from the
crowd. On rare occasions when I might open the Nursery door and peep out, I
might encounter her and I was always excited and not afraid at all, but Eileen
was always furtive and nervous, aware that this was not something which was
"allowed" and afraid she might get into trouble. She would always try
to get away before we were discovered.
I
think I might have grown up very differently if I had ever moved into the older
part of the home. There were rules in the Nursery and the Dormitory which
I had to follow and which I understood, but I had not learned as Eileen had,
that the world was a fearful place. I got through the bath-time rituals pretty
unscathed, and the humiliation of bed-wetting which was the norm for most of
the children in the Nursery. We were woken each morning very early by a nun
ringing a handbell. We would get up and out of bed and the nun would come
around and inspect the little beds which were like shallow cots to see if we
had wet the bed. Those who had not wet the bed could go with one of the older
girls down to breakfast but those who had wet the bed had to strip off the
sheets and carry them downstairs to a room where you put them into a big tub.
You had to have another bath then, before you could go and have your breakfast
and this was another occasion when the older girls were left to supervise you
and if the nun was not around, they would sometimes make you wear the sheets
over your head and shoulders to walk to the room with the tub.
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One Christmas...
One Christmas, it must have been 1954 or 1955, the nuns decided to put on a big concert for invited guests. There was great excitement and I remember all the Nursery children were dressed as angels and we had wings with sequins and it was all very pretty; the first time I remember wearing something nice - something that was not grey or navy blue and made of prickly wool. This was also my first recollection of music in the home. I have no recollection of a rehearsal, only of the actual night of the concert and one of the things I had been chosen to do was go into the middle of the stage, kneel down next to a little cot with a baby doll in it and sing the lullaby, “Roses Whisper Goodnight” to the baby doll. (I now know this was Brahms Lullaby).
One Christmas, it must have been 1954 or 1955, the nuns decided to put on a big concert for invited guests. There was great excitement and I remember all the Nursery children were dressed as angels and we had wings with sequins and it was all very pretty; the first time I remember wearing something nice - something that was not grey or navy blue and made of prickly wool. This was also my first recollection of music in the home. I have no recollection of a rehearsal, only of the actual night of the concert and one of the things I had been chosen to do was go into the middle of the stage, kneel down next to a little cot with a baby doll in it and sing the lullaby, “Roses Whisper Goodnight” to the baby doll. (I now know this was Brahms Lullaby).
All the other angels were around the edges of the stage and in the Wings ready to come out, I remember walking out to the cot and kneeling down but then I started to play with the doll. The piano began to play the opening notes but I did not begin to sing. I kept playing with the doll and a nun in a stage whisper kept urging me to sing. I began to sing but then burst into tears and had to be carried off the stage. In fact, I was not well at all and had to be taken to the "Infirmary". But actually, when I think about that memory, one of only a small number from that time, there is a certain irony in asking an abandoned child to sit by a doll’s cot and sing a comforting Lullaby about Angels caring for you!
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During
my time at St Joseph’s two important things happened. Firstly, I was diagnosed
with a very significant squint for which I have had to wear glasses all my
life. Secondly, I started school a year early. Each morning we would all walk
in twos and in uniform to a school somewhere not too far from the orphanage. I
can remember nothing whatever about it, except I started quite early on the
process to literacy. My early experiences had not taught me to be timid.
Quite the reverse. I think I had a strong sense of my own destiny and was self-confident
from an early age. My only emotional feelings from that time were related to
seeing Eileen. We were very much kept apart and hardly saw each other at all. I
certainly had a sense that there was something different and possibly rather
odd and stigmatising about us "St Joseph children". Although
attending school during the day, I was still a part of the nursery, as I was
only four years old. I had not graduated to the "older part" of the home.
Thank goodness.
Occasionally, and completely unplanned, I would
catch a glimpse of Eileen either going to school, or maybe on the rare
occasions when we were allowed in the garden in the summer. Eileen always
looked so sad. That is my memory of her. She was not as confident as me, though
I did not understand this concept. She was much quieter and very watchful, as
if she had learned that the world was not a very nice place. She always seemed
worried that she would get into trouble if she spoke to me, so was always looking
around her in case someone was going to reprimand her. I think she wanted
to be obedient; she wanted to avoid trouble. I did not see the world as a
dangerous place because I had not seen as much or experienced as much as she
had. She was also a part of a bigger world within St Joseph’s where she was
learning her own ways of surviving with the bigger girls, who left to their own
devices quite a lot of the time I am sure would be quite intimidating.
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I do
not remember any acts of physical cruelty on the part of the nuns, though
we have had some contact from "old girls" of St Joseph's who spent
much longer in the Home than Eileen and I, growing up from Nursery right
through to working age at 15 years and beyond, and they do tell some stories of
great harshness and what would today be described as emotional or physical
punishment or abuse. But they will have to speak their own stories because I
can only recount my own.
I do remember that the nuns were not affectionate or very understanding. There seemed to be a deliberate policy of not forming emotional attachments with the children, and not encouraging the girls who were sisters to have any contact with each other for fear they would at some point be separated to different foster or adoptive parents. You were expected from an early age to contribute to your upkeep by being unpaid domestic servants around the Home. St Joseph's had been an old "industrial school" or school for girls who maybe were 'difficult" and consequently there was a need to teach obedience and conformity and no nonsense in terms of emotional development. This resulted in girls who spent any length of time in the Home, to become rather secretive and possibly devious and sly too as they sought to conceal their wrong doings and fears so you either became a bully or you repressed your own feelings and tried to stay in the background. This was certainly the path that Eileen had chosen, to fade into the background, as she learned the pecking order of survival with the older girls who were often left in charge of the younger children, including the Nursery children. Girls who were themselves damaged or institutionalised were not really the best to be given untrained responsibility for the impressionably vulnerable and traumatised girls who found themselves at St Joseph's, where no explanation of why you were there, how long you would stay or what was going to happen to you was ever given. |
It was in a way like being given a custodial
sentence without visiting rights, and without any understanding of when it
would end. It was a system which was entirely un-child-friendly and which was
about managing a social problem in a way which did not impact too much on the
life of the Convent. The girls had to be fed and clothed and were. Some of
those girls grew up so institutionalised that they were even encouraged to
transfer to other convents and seminaries as domestic servants at the age of 15
years, having lived the whole of their lives in an institution with no one
having really guided them emotionally or prepared them for a life beyond an
institution. They were emotionally and developmentally impoverished, having not
learned in a natural way how to relate except in terms of survival and basic
care...
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My sister and I had been placed in St Joseph’s
because we were considered to be at risk and experiencing considerable neglect
and hardship. By contrast, the Home must have seemed to have been an
improvement; we were housed, fed, clothed, kept clean and warm. By today's
standards of childcare, it was greatly lacking, but perhaps by the standards
that applied in Children's Homes in the 1950s our experience was not at the
extreme end of wanting.
My opinion might have been different if we had
spent more years there and had to survive the indignities that others have
spoken of, but that was not our direct experience, so I cannot comment. That is
for others to speak from their own truthful experience.
The above extract was taken from 'Helen's Story'. To read the full account please click here.
Note: The photos on this page are purely illustrative and are not actual photos taken at St Joseph's Home.
Note: The photos on this page are purely illustrative and are not actual photos taken at St Joseph's Home.