The teacher of Grade 1C, my class, was Mrs. Pearl Guneratne (Jayasooriya), who was also the spouse of the Primary School Head Master, Mr. Guneratne. Mr. Guneratne was a feared creature, who walked around the Primary compound with measured steps, holding a cane behind his back, and his heavily haired arms and imposing head with graying curls on a half bald didn’t exactly help things either.
by Vihanga Perera
About 20 years ago, there was a bus running on the Peradeniya-Kandy road, registered to the Kandy South depot, bearing the number KS 62. It was in this bus that I first came to Kingswood, led there by my uncle (who passed away at a young age, in 1994), to be enrolled in the Grade 1C class. The two storey hall in which the Grade 1 and 3 classes were held back then was later (around 1993) given to Seethadevi College, in exchange for some of their land, with the hope of extending the Northern boundary of the Kingswood ground. I used to be an indifferent, aloof, grumpy creature when I was small, but I distinctly remember not wanting to be at school, in that Calcutta-crowded Grade 1 class, divided from 1B and 3A by a very slim hardboard wall.
My first “friend” in Grade 1 was Darshana Premaratne: his qualification to be my friend was that his father, Premaratne Uncle, was my uncle’s friend — well, good enough reason, when you’re in Grade 1. Today, Darshana is a very promising young businessman, taking his dad’s business to the next level, and, ironically, he is still one of the few old school mates I get a chance to see smiling at me from across the road, whenever I go past his business place in Getambe. The teacher of Grade 1C, my class, was Mrs. Pearl Guneratne (Jayasooriya), who was also the spouse of the Primary School Head Master, Mr. Guneratne. Mr. Guneratne was a feared creature, who walked around the Primary compound with measured steps, holding a cane behind his back, and his heavily haired arms and imposing head with graying curls on a half bald didn’t exactly help things either.
When I was much older, in senior classes, I found it very amusing that Prefects would like to do Primary School duty, for various reasons. Partly it was the love they had for younger boys, and maybe also because it was “lighter work” looking after boys who didn’t know their 6 from their 4. But, the added perk of a group of younger female teachers serving the Primary classes, I feel, couldn’t have missed the heads of some of my colleagues who were Prefects. However, I am not very sure how the same duty plans appealed to those who were Prefects when I was still in the Primary. For one, most of the teachers we had in the Primary School during my time were seasoned mums who, if they wanted, could make you shit in your pants. One reason why I decided I shouldn’t complain about having to come to school was that I was — luckily — chosen to be in the 1C class. The regular thumping noises I heard coming from the other side of the hardboard wall, made me feel that Mrs. Pearl was, in that way, indeed, a pearl.
Of the Prefects of that time, I remember the Senior Prefect Ranasinghe, who used to carry an umbrella and look a tad aware of his own smartness. When in Grade 2, I remember a Prefect staying with my class almost half the day, on a day our teacher was absent. I remember him making us write numbers on a book from 100 to 500 or so. I think this was Suwanji Madanayake, as I remember him explaining the meaning of “Madanayake”, writing it on the board. A.C. Tennakoon was another popular Prefect among the boys back then. He used to wear a House captain’s badge that was in fashion back then on his shirt pocket. He was, as I remember, from Winchester House.
School was over by noon, but we had to stay back till 1.30 PM, for our school transport to pick us up. An hour and a half is plenty of time for after-school games and things. My cousin was in Grade 3, and there were times I would play Robin Hood with some of his classmates. Other times, we would play among us, whoever were left, waiting for their parents or school vans. The school peon, Wickrama Aiya, those days had the double task of coming down to the main gate and barking authority at us. He had more hair then, and was less lenient with trouble-makers. The fence along the school was barbed-wire, and Wickrama Aiya’s caution made perfect sense — only that, try telling that to bunch of dust-covered 7 year olds. In Grade 2, I very well remember my close friend (yet to be) Samitha Chandana bawling his head off, after being caught in the barbed-wire fence near the old May tree (recently felled).
Maara was the topical tree at Kingswood, and the abundant (redundant?) palm culture there, which we see today, was a very late initiative by (I think) Principal Chandrasekara, who took over in 2000. Today, Kingswood sports a line of palms like any other Royal, or Trinity, while back then, the school had a sense of botany of its own. The recent death of the May tree near the main gate was the last stroke on an age and a spirit that is now no more.
Twice a week, I attended a Cricket Nursery for Primary tots, run by Shawal Sir and Gamage Sir. This is the same Mr. Gamage who would coach the Kingswood XI in later years, with moderate success in the best of time. It was he who first taught me the long barrier, when I was still 6 years old. In Grade 2, I had won 3rd place in an Art competition (which, to this day, is one of the biggest mysteries of my uneventful life, as I suck at Art as if it was a choice fruit), and had received a larger than life certificate. I remember Shawal Sir going through the certificate, which was lying in the grass on the side while Cricket practice was done. My fellow Cricket mates in Grade 2 included Vimarshana Hettiarachchi – later, and better known as “Usa” Hetti – and Milinda Wattegedara. Both were from Senior Grades, and Hettiarachchi would play First XV rugby and be the Scribe of the Prefects. I would play Table Tennis and be a mediocre player and a burden to the team. Only Wattegedara stuck to Cricket, captaining the school team in 2003.
By the time I came to Grade 3, I couldn’t bear it any longer. I didn’t want to come to school anymore,. the pain was too much and the work in class didn’t make any sense. The teacher, Mrs. Amara Weragama, had a nose like a parrot’s and a motherly bearing, though she turned into a walloping machine with short notice. I remember doing the Math in my head, thinking that I had to do TEN more years of this: coming to school and learning lessons. It made me feel so impotent and defeated. Luckily, Grade 5 onwards was slightly better, and the Upper Junior Grades, tolerable. I don’t think I really started enjoying the idea of coming to school till I came to Grades 10 and 11. Then, my Advanced Level years is a crazy story of its own. School was so glued to my everyday agenda that, finally, my Grade 13 attendance turned out to be 97%. Even when A/L study leave was granted, I was still found to be hanging around school. But, all that is a part of a different story: a story I wouldn’t have known while sitting there moodily in the Primary School.
KINGSWOOD STORIES 