Like many ex-students, Mrs. Berry remembers the bad parts more readily than the good: appearances before the head mistress, endless rules, a sense of suppression, a lack of freedom, unfashionable uniforms, and above all, an almost pathological fear amongst the teaching staff of boys getting near the girls.

A student at the Bermuda High School for Girls in the late '50s and early '60s, Mary-Graham Outerbridge, as she then was, learned from day one that, apart from being good students, the "gels'' (as the then-headmistress pronounced `girls') were expected at all times to conform to the ideals and images of a school whose motto is Purity and Strength.

A free spirit then as now, little Mary chafed at the fetters sometimes, but conform she did -- well, most of the time. Among other things, that meant no talking in the corridors, no eating in the classrooms, lining up to go anywhere, being correctly attired at all times, and always behaving like a lady.

Stepping out of line could incur the loss of house marks (a sin published on a corridor noticeboard for all to see), standing outside the classroom door in minor disgrace, or worse, standing outside the headmistress's door in major disgrace. Either way, every passing person knew -- and often relayed news of -- the student's miscreance.

The headmistress was always addressed in reverential tones and approached with trepidation, for one look from her steely blue eyes could freeze water -- or so it seemed to a child.

Teachers were respected; their staffroom was a sanctuary beyond the bounds of lesser mortals.

Classrooms were models of orderliness: neat rows of desks all faced front, and teachers regularly inspected their contents for neatness. Slobs were not tolerated. There was no talking or whispering in class, and everyone had to sit straight. Teachers held perfect sway.

Exam results were posted in humiliating form: Red for honours, blue for passes, pencil for failures.

Each day began with Prayers: a morning assembly which included a hymn, a psalm, a lesson from the Bible, prayers (on the knees, eyes closed please) and announcements. Students were played in and out to the strains of Chopin, Beethoven and their ilk by the cream of senior music students. Others kept the silver rose bowl filled with fresh flowers.

Consorting with members of the opposite sex, once the difference was seriously appreciated, was so vigorously discouraged that any place where boys gathered was promptly declared off limits. That included the playing field wall bounding Richmond Road (today's large oleander hedge remains as part of the '50s campaign), Hamilton's popular ice cream parlours, and even certain street corners.

Wearing jewellery, lipstick, jazzy shoes or socks with the school uniform, or even embellishing its basic design, would also incur penalties.

This, then, was the world of Mary-Graham, the student. Like many others of her era who embraced more modern thinking, Mrs. Berry still harbours some resentment toward what she views as the suppression of individual expression.

Which is not to imply that she has any regrets about attending what was even then regarded as the top private girl's school on the Island. Indeed, Mary-Graham has a lot of affection for her old school.

And it was that which three of her brothers, Patrick, Chips and Layton, remembered when they took part in a recent fund-raising auction for BHS.

Together, they decided to bid on an item entitled Headmistress for a Day.

"We thought it would be something Mary would like to do,'' Patrick explained.

"I have three girls and Chips has one at the school, and we knew her four nieces would love to see their aunt in that role.'' Successful in their bid, the brothers decided not to let their only sister in on the secret until the whole family was together at Thanksgiving. Then Chips stood up and made the announcement. Fortunately for everyone, Mary-Graham was receptive to the idea and by the time her special day arrived she was rarin' to go.

Indeed, she had even formulated a few plans of her own. No, she would not give the students a day off, nor the teachers a raise, but she would try to visit every classroom.

Of course, the school had been well appraised of her visit, so the pupils were looking forward to it with great curiosity and not a little mischief.

Mary-Graham's first duty was morning assembly, where a mixture of memories and authority came flooding back.

"It was great hearing the old school song again, and I had to dismiss assembly at the end,'' she related. "As I did so, a little girl in the front row gave me the thumbs-down.'' Was this a breach of the old-time manners she grew up on? "No, it turned out I was set up,'' she laughed.

Just as she was at lunchtime when she "discovered'' four (gasp) boys fraternising cosily with four students in a stairwell and was expected to deal with the situation.

"All I could think of was to ask the boys which school they came from. When they told me I said, `Have you been formally introduced?' and they said `yes', '' the acting headmistress said. "I sent the boys back to their school and asked the girls how they got there. When they told me I said: `Does this happen all the time?' '' No shrinking violet, Mrs. Berry then gave the girls a lecture about AIDS, condoms and what she called "getting personal''.

"Their faces were a picture, they certainly weren't expecting that!'' she exclaimed.

Later in the day, after such niceties as morning coffee with teachers in the staff room and luncheon with the secondary prefects and form leaders, Mrs.

Berry would be called upon to break up a "fight'' outside the headmaster's office -- her third and final set-up.

Meanwhile, she toured the classrooms, fascinating the girls with stories of how things were in "her day''. In particular, the students were envious of the colour choices available in the '50s summer uniforms -- a privilege that no longer exists.

In turn, Mrs. Berry was able to flout one of rule which had always irritated her.

"I told the students in one class to raise their desk tops, and on the count of three to slam them down hard, which they did. We were never allowed to do anything like that, which is why I told them to do it. In a way it felt good to get a bit of `revenge.' Thirty years ago the school was like a jail!'' In the course of her day in authority, Mrs. Berry would notice many changes in the current BHS. Some left her bemused, while others got her enthusiastic support.

"Classes seem so much smaller today, and the rapport between teacher and pupils was absolutely amazing. I watched several teachers interacting beautifully with the students. There was none of the `I am the teacher, you are the pupil, do as I say' philosophy that I grew up with.'' The headmaster's enlightened open door policy towards his pupils left her astonished, as did talking in the corridors and assembly hall. Mrs. Berry was delighted to find that there were specific programmes to assist students with learning difficulties, such as reading, and to note that science subjects -- once thought the province of boys -- were now on the curriculum.

Modification of morning assembly to exclude hymns and Bible readings left her with mixed feelings, but she thoroughly enjoyed the Lower Primary's Christmas concert, as well as donning a toga to eat a Roman dessert in the Latin Room.

Although Mrs. Berry was thrilled to find a more relaxed atmosphere at the school than she knew, she had no hankering to become a student again.

"It still hasn't changed enough for me,'' she declared, "but I love the fact that my nieces are having a better chance at an education than I did at their age.'' BREAK IT UP, GIRLS! Mrs. Mary-Graham Berry breaks up a mock tussle between two students at the Bermuda High School for Girls, where she was Headmistress for a Day.