Most of the Iraqi Jews left in 1951 and as the monarchy became extinct in 1958 and successive revolutions chipped at our existence, this small remnant were left guarding the heritage, a huge task . ..the concensus from the elders was that since we were less liked now, therefore should do nothing to attract attention to our existence - so must carry on like church mice. Thus, Frank Iny school stepped down drastically on the ceremony and pomp that had been its tradition in earlier years. For example, it used to stage a theatre in french twice a year; the characters, dressed up in authentic costumes and makeup, rehearsed and acted out whole Moliere and Racine plays. Once a year they also held enormous prize giving ceremonies where top government ministers would grace the podium with a complimentary speech, parents as well as lay leaders would be invited and everyone would sit in the garden along hundreds of rows. There would be a distinguished program of cultural events and readings. I can still remember the excitement of us children decked out in our best rags, scuttering about to distribute leaflets and usher in the important visitors .But regrettably, I wasn?t a witness for long, as the governors became worried about the threat of persecution. So we had to wave goodbye to the garden parties, the French theatres and the invitations to the dignitaries. Indeed it was decreed that the circular gardens, with their big marble stage, would be cordoned off wih wire. We never played there but admired them from the upstairs balconies while, during our lunch walks, the scents emanating from them were also allowed to filter to us.

The school became austere, far too austere. There were no sports or recreation activities, not even a cooking class or a canteen. Any art and drama classes were curtailed during the year as they were taking up valuable time. The only avenue was to concentrate on academia. Six days we toiled at the desk, with a much broader and difficult curriculum than the other Iraqi schools never dreamed of. It was a spartan existence... but what choice had we but to struggle hard and make it or break it in the only secondary Jewish school in Iraq?

Still, we had our moments of glory, when we escaped from punishment or managed to trick our sombre teachers. To amuse you I will relate just such a light hearted incident here:

Wajeebat was a subject taught by this eldery Muslim man, Mr (Istath) Yahyeh. It was a medley of justice and social and religious rules which, though easy to understand, took a long time to know by heart- darch. The exams in all subjects were carried out like clockwork and all were reflected in the final grade so we could not afford to fail any. As Mr Yahyeh also taught us history, for his own convenience he gave the 2 exams on consecutive days. It happened that while he was busy dictating the history questions on the first day that the 2 boys in the front row looked up to see that he had written the Wajeebat questions on the back of that same paper, i.e. right in front of their eyes. So, an electric murmur went through the class and we stalled the teacher to give them the chance to copy all. When we finished the history exam, all hell broke loose as we ran to get next day's questions from the jubiliant heroes. That night we sat down to compose the best exam paper in our life. During next day's 1.5 hrs exam, all we were preoccupied with was how to do the substitution without mishap: Here's a perfect one I prepared earlier Sir, extracting it from under the desk- a bit like Delia Smith and her cookery program.

But it was good fun while it lasted and I hope no deputy headmaster (who lives within hearing distance) will take us to task... The important thing is that you the reader, will also find it entertaining after 35 years. Memories make us circulate.