It is my firm, unyielding belief, that our education system, to be truly successful, must be a liberal one, and this in the widest concept. All thorough educationists would agree with this view but, the world being in a frenzied transitional era, it has become battered out of all recognition.

Education as it is administered today is training our youth to have cold mathematical minds, devoid of warmth and understanding. Loyalty, decency and integrity are, in the opinion of many people in high office, outmoded, and a sign of weakness. They would never admit to this if challenged but one has only to hear students from any university talking in their relaxed moments to realise that a dispassionate, clinical, negative spirit walks abroad today. In this direction lie Belsen and the police state.

It is because I have always felt passionately that this attitude is evil, and destructive of all the nobility of the human mind, that I have ever done my utmost to foster the arts, with their powerful humanising influence. We must train our youngsters to lead a full, productive, satisfying life.

Given reasonable health, we should exult in the fact that we are experiencing a glorious, conscious existence. Everything in our orbit should be savoured to the full and the utmost enjoyment should be squeezed out of every experience, yes, even a tragic one.

So many people consider earning a living the only goal in life. No one would deny that this is a desirable and worthy aim, and one which we should not neglect, but I claim it is not the only one, nor would I admit it is the most important. Furthermore, the way things are going, the more leisure will be forced upon man. If he has not been trained to use that leisure intelligently, he will become bored. Boredom lead, particularly where adolescents are concerned, to anti-social behaviour, and more disastrous still, to deep personal unhappiness.

I have little patience with the myopic moaner who perpetually declaims that there are no decent teenagers. If this were true, the Stretford Children's Theatre would never have got off the ground.

As I was writing the above paragraph, my phone rang. It was Jane, a pretty starry-eyed thirteen-year-old, who some few weeks ago came to ask me if the junior members could form a committee to try to help the Theatre to raise money. The committee was duly formed, and they have been brewing tea and making cakes to sell at rehearsals. This has proved so successful that they have shown a healthy profit.

This afternoon, Saturday, they have been running a junk sale. For some weeks they have been collecting some of the weirdest stuff I have seen. Jane rang to tell me that they had raised nearly eight pounds.

On Thursday last at rehearsal, they raffled a basket of fruit which one of the parents had sent. Ron, one of our fifteen-year-olds, won it. Our chairman's wife had just come out of hospital, where she had been receiving treatment after being attacked in the street by a thug. Ron suggested that he took the basket of fruit around as a 'Get well' gift from them all.

Here, apart from the drama angle, is what I set out to do-to build a healthy, happy, purposeful group of youngsters who will enjoy being alive, and pass on that verve to other people. The arts have always meant so much to me, making my life full and happy, and as an English teacher for nearly forty years, I have been privileged to hand the torch to thousands of children.

Since the foundation of our Children's Theatre I have extended this crusade. Through my work in drama with young people I have had the opportunity to see the pleasure, profit and happiness which come from the participation in dramatic work, especially in the world of the adolescent. This then was the core of my dreams. First and foremost was the desire to bring to the notice of young folk, the joy found in the acquaintance with the arts generally, and with drama in particular.

I wanted to arrange for them to see good live drama. More than that, I wished to give them the opportunity to act themselves-if they so desired-in every type of play. If they did not wish to act, then I would find them the chance to help in every department of production, administration, make-up, front of house, scenery, costumes, props, every corner where help was needed.

This work was not to be attempted in a careless, desultory manner. We would set out to reach a high, professional standard. After many years doing just this, I am still amazed at the unexpected quality of acting we manage to achieve in some of our productions. I am frequently horrified at the way people who should know better pontificate in children's theatre. I am often told by inspectors, drama organisers and other mandarins that such and such a play is suitable for the ten-year-old or the fifteen-year-old. They give chapter and verse as to why this is so. I listen, and think that they do not understand in the slightest what a wonderful, unpredictable and glorious thing the mind of a child is, and especially that part dealing with understanding and enjoyment.

A little incident which happened in our Theatre will clearly illustrate this fascinating unpredictability of the child mind.

In 1951 we put on The Merchant of Venice. On the first night I noticed a little boy in the audience, sitting all on his own. He was utterly engrossed with what was happening on the stage. The next night he was there again. As he was leaving the theatre at the end of the performance, I asked him if he enjoyed the show. 'Oh yes!' was the reply, 'It was smashing.' When I saw him all alone again on the third night, with mouth wide open, and oblivious to everything, I was really intrigued. At the interval I went and had a chat with him. I asked him how old he was, and he told me he was ten. Then I inquired which scene he had enjoyed the most. 'The trial scene,' he rapped out. To my amazement he turned up on the fourth night, so at the interval, I took him for a coffee. I said to him, 'Last night you told me you liked the trial scene. Now, I am quite sure you can't understand much of the play. Tell me honestly what you like particularly in the trial scene.' Like a flash came the reply. 'I like to watch the changes on Shylock's face.'

I wonder how many of the great moguls in the theatre would ever have thought a child of ten would spot that fine point, and furthermore, have derived enjoyment from it?

Another anecdote from our production of Little Women. The daughter of a friend of mine-a girl of nine-came to see it. About a week after the show, I happened to call to see her father, and he told me how thrilled the little girl had been with the play. I chatted with the child, and asked her what she had enjoyed about the show. She had an amazing understanding and appreciation of the actual plot, but above all she had been thrilled with the costumes. In one scene Marmie had carried a wrist bag-a sort of dorothy bag. (An old lady of eighty-five had given us two of them.) The little girl had been so taken with this bag that she had drawn it and even tried to make one like it. I suggested she might like to come down to the headquarters one evening and look at both the bag and the dress Marmie had worn. 'Oh, please may I?' was the immediate question,

I arranged the visit, and suggested to our Wardrobe Mistress that when the child came, she could be given the second bag. If some of the 'knockers' could have seen the joy on that tot's face, I think they would have changed their views regarding the value of our work.

Ever since the Theatre was founded, we have taken groups to see live theatre whenever possible. We are keen supporters of several local societies. Our notice-board usually has several bills on display, advertising shows, both amateur and professional.

I felt that the social life of our members was very important to the success of our work. In the special chapter dealing with this, the reader will see that we attach great importance to this side of the Theatre.

In the very early days of the Theatre, we realised that we were severely handicapped without a headquarters of our own. To have a place we could call ours would mean a great improvement in the conception of the Theatre in the minds of the members. I used to dream of the day when we would accomplish this ambition. How we did so I explain elsewhere.

The greatest aim of all, a theatre of our own has still to be accomplished. Had we had full support from those who ought to have helped us, that dream would have been much nearer than it is. I shall never relinquish that dream.

I visualise just the sort of theatre which is in the building at the Cannon Hill Park Midland Arts Centre in Birmingham.

We have done so much which we set out to do. There is still much to accomplish. I shall never rest until there is a firm building fund in existence. If I could see that then I should feel my efforts truly crowned.

Of course I might come up on the pools, or I might find a millionaire who would have enough faith in my plans to back them. Such an eventuality is not outside the bounds of possibility.

For twenty-two years we have battled against the current, and with a struggle managed to keep our heads above water. In these artistically barren days, perhaps we should consider that success indeed. But then I am never satisfied.

It is only fair to admit that there are signs that the arts are being noticed in England. Many cities are actively planning arts centres. In Stretford, I fear, the artistic spirit is peacefully slumbering, apart from one or two pockets of activity.

We have never aimed at making the Theatre a training ground for the professional stage. It has ever been our policy to produce good plays of all kinds in an efficient way, with our young people doing everything themselves as far as possible.

We aim to develop in our members a sense of responsibility and an active approach rather than a passive one to life.

Accepting with gratitude any financial help offered, we have at the same time tried to earn all we have received by efficient effort. Looking back, I think we can feel proud of the result.