The most revealing moments in That’ll Teach ’Em were not necessarily examinations or disciplinary confrontations.
They were the moments when the artificial experiment began to affect the pupils personally.
One boy found himself becoming the target of jokes about his weight.
His companions apparently believed that he was perfectly happy to join in the humour.
After all, he laughed with them.
Away from the group, however, he was discovered in tears.
It was an important reminder of something schools of every generation have occasionally forgotten: a child who laughs at a joke made at his expense is not necessarily enjoying it.
A mistress spoke to him privately.
Her response was deliberately presented in the restrained manner associated with the 1950s. She established what was troubling him, acknowledged his distress, reminded him of the things he was managing successfully and encouraged him to compose himself.
Some viewers might regard such an approach as insufficiently sympathetic.
Others might see it as a useful attempt to combine kindness with resilience.
Either way, the scene was considerably more thoughtful than the caricature of the old-fashioned teacher who supposedly solved every difficulty through punishment.
Another boy experienced much greater difficulty adjusting.
The haircut had upset him. He missed music and familiar freedoms. He disliked the food and resented being unable to smoke.
Eventually he decided that he wanted to leave.
A letter from his mother increased his distress rather than comforting him.
Matron attempted to help, but he remained determined to go.
Here the limitations of the experiment became obvious.
A genuine pupil of the 1950s could hardly announce that he disliked school discipline and simply withdraw from the decade.
The television participants could.
Meanwhile, something encouraging was happening amongst the remaining boys.
They began supporting the pupil who had earlier been upset by teasing.
The group was learning.
That perhaps tells us something important about children which has little to do with whether the calendar reads 1955 or the twenty-first century.
Youngsters can be thoughtless.
They can be cruel.
They can also be remarkably decent once they understand that somebody genuinely needs their support.
A successful school has always had to encourage the latter while controlling the former.
