"No more storyteller"

A review of Nerston Residential School by Dorothy steel written on Thursday 13th of June 2013

When my guardian sent me here I was so angry that she would reject me yet again. But on reflection she did me a favour as I now had children to play with. The regime was very strict. I letter a month was allowed. I food parcel containing sweets was rationed over a month. No television or radio or magazines. At bedtime in the dormitory you could feel the hopelessness and the sadness of the other children so I used to tell them stories and weave them dreams. This came to an end when one evening the teacher in charge shouted someone is talking if they do not come downstairs everyone will suffer. So I left my bed and went downstairs. He was sitting in the middle of the room and I had to bend over his knees with my pyjama trousers down, He then got his slipper and leathered me with it. I knew that he wanted me to cry but I would not. When he had finished I limped my way upstairs and got into my bed.

Then I cried because I could not give the others the escape they needed

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