All children welcome...
A three-year-old boy was screaming and crying as his mother tried to free her hand. She left the home without her son. He was still sobbing bitterly. It was a dramatic memory of my time as a young nursery nurse with the charity, Dr Barnardo’s homes.
I was watching from the kitchen window of the Derby home, Morley Manor, where I worked. Two members of staff hugged and comforted the small figure of the distressed little boy. Finally, they encouraged him back into his family room.
This was the worst, saddest incident in my three years of working with the Barnardo’s children. Often they seemed happy enough in the world they knew, but who understood how they really felt? We loved them and looked after them, but at that time, there was little knowledge about emotional disorders.
In the mid-1960s that’s how abandoned children were cared for, when I began my training as a young, homesick 17 year old. There were all sorts of reasons why the babies and children were placed in Dr Barnardo’s homes. Maybe the parents couldn’t cope or the mother was single and not able to support the child. The parents may have rejected the children if they were of mixed race, as was often the case.
Coming from a comfortable family life on a small farm in Lincolnshire, I didn’t realise how important our work was and what a responsibility we were given. Looking back, I couldn’t have loved the children more. But I feel that if I’d known more about their background, maybe I could have understood more about how they felt.
Kate at the Manor with 'Frank' and 'Andrew'
The children had more emotional and psychological problems than I could contemplate. For instance, one of them was badly traumatised and often hid in a cupboard within the family room. He needed coaxing out and given reassurance and love before he would return to play with the other children in his ‘family’.
We were each allocated a particular child within the home and we would take them to the shops and on outings, spending time on a one-to-one basis. It was so satisfying to give them the extra love and attention that wasn’t possible in the busy family room setting within the unit.
I was lucky enough to be the ‘special’ carer of two children. On several occasions I would even take them to my family home on a small, rural farm. My first special little boy Pat (not his real name) was happily adopted when he was three. The parents and child had been matched as much as they could, to give them the best chance to fit in as family. His new parents visited Morley several times and took him to their own home for visits over many months before they collected Pat for the final time and took him to his new home.
Although I was very upset to see him go, I had to realise it was the best, most wonderful outcome for him. Pat had been my special child for about a year and was at Morley when I arrived in 1966. He was a shy and quiet two year old. Through the year he’d grown into a more outgoing and happy little boy. I felt that I’d helped him to gain confidence and knew I would miss him. As a student and member of staff, I don’t remember discussing the children and their backgrounds or problems. We were given brief details and accepted them as they were, giving them love and understanding to help them feel safe and secure. Pat’s new adoptive parents seemed really nice. I truly believed he would have a lovely new life.
Two year olds in the Day Nursery
Andrew (not his real name) was the second special child and he arrived in 1967. He was older (about five) and showed difficult behaviour: not wanting to sit with the other children at the meal table or playing with other ‘family’ members. He took time to settle into his new family unit and wasn’t adopted by the time I left Morley Manor in 1969, when he was nearly seven. He would have moved on to another home for children after the age of seven. We weren’t encouraged to keep in contact with the children when we left Morley and it’s a regret that I don’t know what happened to them.
Morley Manor was opened as a Dr Barnardo’s home in 1958, with a baby nursery and infants. It was divided into three family units of up to six children from the age of about two years to the age of seven. In the Baby Nursery there were up to 10 babies from 10 days old until they were moved into the family units. Each unit had a qualified family mother, nursery nurse, plus a first- or second-year NNEB student, according to the work rota.
I went for my Dr Barnardo’s interview in 1965, to Stepney. My mother accompanied me to a depressed and dirty part of east London. It was very different from the small, rural village where we lived. I will never forget finding a cafe nearby to have a cup of tea. There were dishevelled old men sitting at tables in a shabby little room, and when the tea arrived we couldn’t believe how dirty the cups were.
At the headquarters, the first thing I saw was a formidable statue of Thomas Barnardo at his desk. The interview was difficult: I faced three interviewers who gave me quite a grilling. I was encouraged to relish the idea of ‘loads’ of dirty nappies to wash. I didn’t realise how hard I would have to work. A positive was seeing a friend from school sitting waiting for an interview. We keep in touch to this day – after 44 years.
Left: taking care of the babies in the Day Nursery. Right: Kate with 'Pat'
Daily life within the home and with the children was rewarding, but demanding and exhausting. We worked on a rota from 7am to 7pm and were kept in line by a strict Matron and Deputy Matron. We had to have approval before going out in the evening, giving details of where we were going and with whom, and had to sign in on our return and were not allowed to be late. We were allowed a couple of 10pm passes, an 11pm each week and one 2am every two months, to visit a night club. T
he payment for our training was low as we were residential. After the two years I qualified as a Nursery Nurse, and we were obliged to stay with Barnardo’s for an extra year to repay them for the training. I was paid about £8 per month for the first year, £11 for the second and around £21 after I qualified.
In 1969 I left Dr Barnardo’s and found a wonderful nanny/housekeeper position through the appointment pages of The Lady, caring for the children of the descendants of Sir Robert Peel. I thoroughly enjoyed it and still exchange Christmas cards with their mother even now.
I met Peter, my husband, who was an officer in the Royal Navy and we went on to have two boys of our own who are now 38 and 36, and I now have the added joy of being a grandmother. There is no doubt that my years as a nurse helped me with my future life as a mother.
For nanny/housekeeper vacancies, see our Classiffieds section.
If you worked with Kate, perhaps you would like to contact her via editorial@lady.co.uk
I was watching from the kitchen window of the Derby home, Morley Manor, where I worked. Two members of staff hugged and comforted the small figure of the distressed little boy. Finally, they encouraged him back into his family room.
This was the worst, saddest incident in my three years of working with the Barnardo’s children. Often they seemed happy enough in the world they knew, but who understood how they really felt? We loved them and looked after them, but at that time, there was little knowledge about emotional disorders.
In the mid-1960s that’s how abandoned children were cared for, when I began my training as a young, homesick 17 year old. There were all sorts of reasons why the babies and children were placed in Dr Barnardo’s homes. Maybe the parents couldn’t cope or the mother was single and not able to support the child. The parents may have rejected the children if they were of mixed race, as was often the case.
Coming from a comfortable family life on a small farm in Lincolnshire, I didn’t realise how important our work was and what a responsibility we were given. Looking back, I couldn’t have loved the children more. But I feel that if I’d known more about their background, maybe I could have understood more about how they felt.
Kate at the Manor with 'Frank' and 'Andrew'The children had more emotional and psychological problems than I could contemplate. For instance, one of them was badly traumatised and often hid in a cupboard within the family room. He needed coaxing out and given reassurance and love before he would return to play with the other children in his ‘family’.
We were each allocated a particular child within the home and we would take them to the shops and on outings, spending time on a one-to-one basis. It was so satisfying to give them the extra love and attention that wasn’t possible in the busy family room setting within the unit.
I was lucky enough to be the ‘special’ carer of two children. On several occasions I would even take them to my family home on a small, rural farm. My first special little boy Pat (not his real name) was happily adopted when he was three. The parents and child had been matched as much as they could, to give them the best chance to fit in as family. His new parents visited Morley several times and took him to their own home for visits over many months before they collected Pat for the final time and took him to his new home.
Although I was very upset to see him go, I had to realise it was the best, most wonderful outcome for him. Pat had been my special child for about a year and was at Morley when I arrived in 1966. He was a shy and quiet two year old. Through the year he’d grown into a more outgoing and happy little boy. I felt that I’d helped him to gain confidence and knew I would miss him. As a student and member of staff, I don’t remember discussing the children and their backgrounds or problems. We were given brief details and accepted them as they were, giving them love and understanding to help them feel safe and secure. Pat’s new adoptive parents seemed really nice. I truly believed he would have a lovely new life.
Two year olds in the Day NurseryAndrew (not his real name) was the second special child and he arrived in 1967. He was older (about five) and showed difficult behaviour: not wanting to sit with the other children at the meal table or playing with other ‘family’ members. He took time to settle into his new family unit and wasn’t adopted by the time I left Morley Manor in 1969, when he was nearly seven. He would have moved on to another home for children after the age of seven. We weren’t encouraged to keep in contact with the children when we left Morley and it’s a regret that I don’t know what happened to them.
Morley Manor was opened as a Dr Barnardo’s home in 1958, with a baby nursery and infants. It was divided into three family units of up to six children from the age of about two years to the age of seven. In the Baby Nursery there were up to 10 babies from 10 days old until they were moved into the family units. Each unit had a qualified family mother, nursery nurse, plus a first- or second-year NNEB student, according to the work rota.
I went for my Dr Barnardo’s interview in 1965, to Stepney. My mother accompanied me to a depressed and dirty part of east London. It was very different from the small, rural village where we lived. I will never forget finding a cafe nearby to have a cup of tea. There were dishevelled old men sitting at tables in a shabby little room, and when the tea arrived we couldn’t believe how dirty the cups were.
At the headquarters, the first thing I saw was a formidable statue of Thomas Barnardo at his desk. The interview was difficult: I faced three interviewers who gave me quite a grilling. I was encouraged to relish the idea of ‘loads’ of dirty nappies to wash. I didn’t realise how hard I would have to work. A positive was seeing a friend from school sitting waiting for an interview. We keep in touch to this day – after 44 years.
Left: taking care of the babies in the Day Nursery. Right: Kate with 'Pat'Daily life within the home and with the children was rewarding, but demanding and exhausting. We worked on a rota from 7am to 7pm and were kept in line by a strict Matron and Deputy Matron. We had to have approval before going out in the evening, giving details of where we were going and with whom, and had to sign in on our return and were not allowed to be late. We were allowed a couple of 10pm passes, an 11pm each week and one 2am every two months, to visit a night club. T
he payment for our training was low as we were residential. After the two years I qualified as a Nursery Nurse, and we were obliged to stay with Barnardo’s for an extra year to repay them for the training. I was paid about £8 per month for the first year, £11 for the second and around £21 after I qualified.
In 1969 I left Dr Barnardo’s and found a wonderful nanny/housekeeper position through the appointment pages of The Lady, caring for the children of the descendants of Sir Robert Peel. I thoroughly enjoyed it and still exchange Christmas cards with their mother even now.
I met Peter, my husband, who was an officer in the Royal Navy and we went on to have two boys of our own who are now 38 and 36, and I now have the added joy of being a grandmother. There is no doubt that my years as a nurse helped me with my future life as a mother.
For nanny/housekeeper vacancies, see our Classiffieds section.
If you worked with Kate, perhaps you would like to contact her via editorial@lady.co.uk