In the past I have often scribbled about hammered silver coin caches, Anglo-Saxon hoards, Roman burials and all the other magnificent finds made by detectorists. I was privileged and very lucky to have the opportunity to relive the exploits of the finders and tell their stories. And for that I think myself very fortunate and honoured to do so. That’s how I get my ‘fix’ even today. Today’s offering is rather mundane.
The teacher always had an ‘industrial’ pencil sharpener attached to the desk at the front of the class.
If you are of a certain age you will remember the pencil sharpener attached in a rickety fashion to the edge of the table in your secondary classroom. Probably not, but I have vivid memories of countless disasters trying to sharpen my pencils. Something starting off at a length of five or six inches usually ended up annihilated and unusable. I hated them.
How did the Victorians sharpen the lead in their pencils?
Sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself. The catalyst for this post was a Victorian to Edwardian pencil sharpener found by Scottish detectorist Howard in 2009. In an understatement, he said, “I think its sharpening days are over but it is in pretty good condition. The steel blade is rusted but still partially there!”
I must admit that I hadn’t realised that pencil sharpeners even existed at the turn of the 20th century. Then I found several of similar designs on the PAS and UKDFD databases that had been found by detectorists. Here’s one from the PAS.
Goodness, I hadn’t realised that so many of these items had been found by detectorists. I’ve been shown several sharpeners of similar design, and from far away as America and Australia. Thank you all for sharing. But one was slightly different from the norm. ‘Bodkins’, found one shaped like a frog, and has kindly allowed me to share it with you.
There were many updates to this post. Donna Babington contacted me via Twitter to tell me that Brian Newton had found a lovely little sharpener found on pasture in Ayrshire. She said: “I do the historical research and acquire permission to detect and Brian does the hard work. It has been such a pleasure to spend time with these most wonderful links to our local ancestors … feel free to use the picture in your blog.”
I wonder where that phrase came from?
Because the slate was for temporary work, memorisation was crucial for learning and in passing examinations. A teacher could walk around the room and review a student’s progress much like today, but assignments couldn’t practically be collected and then returned at the end of the session with a grade. There was just too much chance something would be erased accidentally. Once the work was reviewed at the student’s desk, the slate was wiped clean and new work commenced.