The new job proved to be a great blessing, but it took me some time to adjust to this school.
My first lesson teaching R.E. To the girls in the fourth year was disastrous. They refused to listen and kept answering back, giving me the wrong names so I could hardly take a class register. Fortunately, lessons in Mathematics went well and before long I had mustered the technique of getting the young ladies to be attentive and polite. I had a habit of starting the lesson with a few seconds of prayer, spoken out loud followed by 45 minutes of work.
One day I walked into the classroom and forgot to say my usual prayer for the boys, the lesson and their families. A student put up his hand.
‘Mr. West, why haven’t you prayed today?” he said. Considering he was the toughest looking young man in the class and very popular, I wondered what it was all about. He then went on to tell me that his mother was very ill and needed prayers. We all, students included, said a heartfelt prayer for his mother.
It did not take me long to realize that things were not right at this school.
In my ‘dream/vision’ which I had had many years before, set in Victoria station, Our Lady had promised me that she would protect me from persecution. That had been very evident throughout the time of harassment in our home during the summer.
Although I seemed to have a natural talent for teaching and enjoyed the work, I had to draw on the Lord’s help and encouragement at many times. The headmaster was very supportive of me and became more like a friend over the years. The Deputy Head, however, was extremely critical of him and was constantly stirring up trouble between the teachers and the headmaster. This put me in an awkward position, and I became the prime target for both the Deputy Head and most of the teachers who sided with him.
The atmosphere both in the school and the staffroom was awful, there was a constant feeling of tension. The Deputy Head’s obvious dislike of me was rubbing off on several of the teachers. I was often the butt of painful ‘jocular’ remarks by these teachers, both in the staffroom and even openly in morning assembly. These became more and more disparaging, both of my abilities and my teaching skills and were always said in front of other people. It became so bad that I had to present one teacher in particular with a lawyer’s letter, warning him that, if he continued with this, I would take him to court. He laughed and said, “Can’t you take a joke!” but stopped it from that day on.
Added to this were the reports of harsh treatment of some students by certain members of the staff and an incident of sexual abuse which brought the newspapers and law courts into action.
I could see that many of the students had lost heart. School was somewhere they had to endure till they reached the age of 16 and could put it all behind them. Many of them came from broken homes and the key they had hung around their neck, showed that they would be returning home to an empty house.
Although it was supposed to be a Catholic school, there was little evidence of a spiritual, supportive environment. I found this very disturbing but was heartened by the positive response of my pupils in class.
I spent four years at this school and increasingly was treated with great respect by the students who were exceptionally kind and protective towards me.
One incident comes to mind when I was walking through the school yard during break. Someone from a balcony above thoughtlessly discarded a coke can which nearly hit me as I walked below. One of my class students was nearby and saw who had thrown it. He rushed to my defence. “Will I go and punch him Mr. West?” he asked.
I smiled. “No thank you,” I said. “No harm done.
As time went on, the students seemed to become more and more friendly even to the point of coming to see me in Kingston. Two of them came to see me at home to ask for advice with a problem. I was happy they did.
One day a travelling fair came to town and set itself up in a small park very close to where we lived. I was there with all the family, myself, Ursula and our four children who were all still young. As we walked around, pushing our youngest in the pram, we saw a group of teenagers all of whom were dressed in dark clothes with hair and make-up in the current ‘punk’ style. They looked rather menacing, and we started moving in the other direction. Suddenly they all began walking quickly towards us and, even in this crowded place, I got a little worried.
“Hi Mr. West!” came a voice from the group and then in seconds we were surrounded by smiling faces, all of them belonging to my students from school. They were delighted to see me there and to meet my wife and children and I too felt honored that they had come.
In class too, things had changed. One young Indian girl painted all the windows in the classroom with beautiful pictures of a religious nature. The classroom ended up being voted the best kept room year after year. I often wonder what happened to all of them and pray they are well. I have no doubt though that the Spirit was continually using me to sow seeds of faith in that field. Only He will know how many of these seeds have sprouted.
Towards the end of the fourth year there, both Ursula and I felt we needed a total change. We both yearned to go and live in a countryside setting and I began to look for a job right outside of the London and Greater London area.
I remembered Stuart from our prayer group who was now a Benedictine monk at Fort Augustus in Scotland. I wrote and told him that I was leaving Barons Court and was looking for a new job. He promptly told me to write to Ampleforth College as Father Dominic, the Headmaster, had just advertised a post at the college. I sent in an application and in reply was given an appointment for an interview.
Everyone at my present school thought I was wasting my time as Ampleforth was regarded as one of the top Catholic Boarding schools in the U.K. and getting a post there was difficult. Nonetheless, I went to the interview.
When I arrived, I was taken to Junior House in the evening and met Fr. Henry, Fr. Dominic and a few other monks and we discussed the faith. I then spent a restless night at the guest quarters, and in the morning ate one of the most wonderful breakfasts ever served in a beautiful tray in the company of the Guest Master.
After breakfast, I went to meet Fr. Dominic who told me that the advertised post had been taken but that he wanted me to join the staff and would create a new post for me. I was asked to teach English and Mathematics in the lower school, Junior House, and Religion all the way up to the sixth form.
In the four years we had lived in our new house in Kingston, the prices had soared beyond our belief. We sold our house with a very handsome profit - more than enough to pay back my brother-in-law’s loan with interest and with plenty left over to save for the future.
By late summer we had moved into a lovely house in the country rented from the college and we embarked on a new and very important episode in our lives.

Karl worked at St Edmonds in Barons Court and when I graduated as a teacher, he introduced me to the Head of School and I did my probationary year at St. Edmond’s Catholic School.
My first lesson teaching R.E. To the girls in the fourth year was disastrous as they refused to listen and kept answering back and giving me the wrong names so I could hardly take a class register. Fortunately, lessons in Mathematics went well and before long I had mustered the technique of getting the young ladies to be attentive and polite. I had a habit of starting the lesson with a short few seconds prayer spoken out loud followed by 45 minutes of work.
I mention all this because of a few occasions that stay with me. The students seemed to become more and more friendly even to the point of coming to see me in Kingston. One day I walked into the classroom and forgot to say my usual prayer for the boys, the lesson and their families. Leroy put his hand up and said, ‘Mr. West, why haven’t you prayed today?” Considering Leroy was the toughest looking young man in the class and very popular, I wondered what it was all about. He then went on to tell me that his mother was very ill and needed prayers. We all, students included, said a heartfelt prayer for his mother.
One young Indian girl painted all the windows in the classroom with beautiful pictures of a religious nature. The classroom ended up being voted the best kept room year after year. I wonder what happened to all of them and pray they are well.