D.H.Lawrence taught here from 1908 to 1911, at Davidson Road Elementary School (as it was then called) in Croydon. It was a modern school in a fairly new suburb. The Victorian villas close by have dates from the 1890s engraved in the plasterwork. He was paid £95 a year to teach a class of 60. His first poems were published during this time; early poems include ‘A snowy day in school’, ‘The best of school’, ‘Last lesson of the afternoon’ and ‘Discipline’.
His teaching practice tutor in Nottingham had been ambivalent about his prospects:
“Well-read, scholarly and refined. Mr Lawrence will make an excellent teacher if he gets into the right place…. He would be quite unsuitable for a large class of boys in a rough district; he would not have sufficient persistence and enthusiasm but would become disgusted….Mr Lawrence is fastidious in taste and while working splendidly at anything that interests him would perhaps easily tire amid the tedium and discouragement of the average classroom.”
Like any young teacher (like myself, years ago) Lawrence had times when the job seemed manageable, even pleasurable:
‘And very sweet it is, while the sunlight waves
In the ripening morning, to sit alone with the class
And feel the stream of awakening ripple and pass
From me to the boys, whose brightening souls it laves
For this little hour.
This morning, sweet it is
To feel the lads’ looks light on me,
Then back in a swift, bright flutter to work;
Each one darting away with his
Discovery, like birds that steal and flee.’
And then he had his times of despair, when it all seemed hopeless:
‘I am sick, and what on earth is the good of it all?
What good to them or me, I cannot see!
So, shall I take
My last dear fuel of life to heap on my soul
And kindle my will to a flame that shall consume
Their dross of indifference; and take the toll
Of their insults in punishment?— I will not!—
I will not waste my soul and my strength for this.
What do I care for all that they do amiss!
What is the point of this teaching of mine, and of this
Learning of theirs? It all goes down the same abyss.’
Lawrence took sick leave in November 1911. His headmaster said he’d been in poor health and under obvious strain for the whole of that year (It was also the year following the death of his mother – see ‘Sons and Lovers’). A week later he developed pneumonia. His doctor advised him to do no more teaching and he took the doctor’s advice.
the word-road home 