£25 STAR LETTER

Teacher John Mcintosh’s story (Sunday Post, August 16) reminds me of a humiliation which, even now aged 86, is embedded in my memory.

In the 1940s I attended Skellow School near Doncaster. The teacher, Miss Jackson, knew I stuttered. She asked me to stand up in class and read a passage out of a book.

Nothing came out of my mouth. The class was laughing. Miss Jackson said: “Go to Mr Sharpe, the headmaster.”

The prefect told him I wouldn’t read to class. He grabbed my arm, straightened my hands out and gave me three hearty strokes of the cane.

I didn’t cry because I knew I had to go to face the teacher and class again. Everyone knew about my stuttering but, to them, it was funny.

I don’t stutter now – and I feel sorry for Mr Mcintosh.

I left school two days before my 14th birthday. I was employed at Bullcroft Colliery and spent my working life underground until being made redundant at 56.