There is a framed picture in head teacher John Patino’s office. It is an aerial photograph which I’m guessing, from the look of the vehicles, was taken around 1983 when yours truly started at Holden Lane High School.
It shows the mobile classrooms which had been built on an area previously home to cricket nets to accommodate for the double-intake that year.
This included 11-year-old, destined-to-be GCSE guinea-pigs.
One of those mobiles, top right, became my ‘home’, or form room, for five years.
If you look closely you can just make out the speck of a lad on a bicycle – presumably riding home.
I wondered briefly if I knew him. Maybe he was in my year. Perhaps we’re still in touch on Facebook.
Schools are special places, you see. You spend so long there and your actions are so routine that they become ingrained in your memory.
As I sat there listening to John’s vision of the future for my old school I couldn’t help but reminisce.
I couldn’t help but think about teachers whose big personalities or quirky traits left such an impression on young me.
Even now, 25 years after leaving, I can still hear Mr Ball barking orders down the corridors and giving out lines and detention to ne’er do wells.
I can still hear my form tutor Mr Jones enforcing discipline with a sergeant major’s humour and the threat of the ruler and the cane.
I can still recall the dread of P.E. That feeling in the pit of my stomach from knowing that fat, asthmatic yours truly couldn’t run about without getting out of breath.
Rubbish at football. Always last at cross-country.
That’s just the way it was.
I can still remember music teacher Mr Baddeley rolling his eyes at me as I failed the recorder test.
I can still recall being smitten from day one when I first spotted a girl in the top class.
John bought me back to down to earth with a bump: From September, he explained, Holden Lane High in Sneyd Green will cease to exist.
It will be replaced by the brand new £11 million Excel Academy which is currently under construction.
In January the buildings of my old school will no longer be used and then the bulldozers will move in.
Much as it tugs at my heart strings, there are sound reasons for this.
A couple of years ago Holden Lane went in to special measures after a damning Ofsted inspection.
The number of pupils has fallen from 1,300 or so in its hey-day to just 800 or so. This desperately needs to change.
The buildings I refer to with such fondness are, to put it mildly, well past their best. This isn’t something a lick of paint or a refurbishment can mask because five decades and literally tens of thousands of pupils have taken their toll on the old girl.
Yes, what I didn’t realise was that Holden Lane High this year celebrates its 50th anniversary and will just about reach that milestone before it’s demolition time.
In order to reverse falling pupil numbers and exorcise the ghost of that Ofsted report a new academy will rise from the ashes – funded by the Building Schools for the Future (BSF) programme.
It will be an academy the pupils deserve with state-of-the-art facilities and one which, John and the governors hope, will tempt families to again look favourably on a school that has fallen from grace in recent years.
There will be a new uniform with a red rather than a blue tie. Yes, it’s all-change at Holden Lane – sorry, the Excel Academy – and it’s nothing more than present and future generations deserve.
John took me on a tour of the old building and I made him laugh by remembering where all my fifth year classrooms were across three floors.
The corridors that once were so daunting seemed woefully small, the stairwells antiquated and the windows, well, rather draughty.
Happily, however, not much had changed in a quarter of a century since 16-year-old me left to do his A-levels at Sixth Form College, Fenton.
There’ll be one hell of a reunion before they knock the place down, I’ll make sure of that.
I may even take a brick as a keepsake.
I’ll certainly want to take one final tour round the school before that happens – perhaps accompanied this time by some old friends from class 5/1. You know who you are.
It’ll be mint. Ace. Be there or be square.