Mike
I had so many teachers of note when I was back in education, from the frankly appalling right up to the inspirational best. So that’s where I’ll start – with Mike. Mike was a proper English English teacher – he taught us the classics, modern literature and a hell of a lot about life. His favourite, rather unsurprisingly for a teacher nicknamed “The Bard” (it was after all the second half of his surname), was Shakespeare. He was one of the few people that I have ever met who can convince an entire class of 14/15 year olds about the merit of his plays, poetry and prose. Looking in at a class of lads who would, under most other people’s control, be throwing stuff around the class, talking loudly amongst themselves, physically abusing each other/themselves only to see them enraptured by a rather short, overweight, balding man in his early sixties explaining how Mark Anthony was using flattery and praise as an attack on Brutus et al, or how clever Shakespeare was being by switching to iambic pentameter from another form.

He taught us a lot too – I can genuinely thank him for sparking my interest in debate and politics, as well as developing my confidence in public speaking. He also taught me to answer a question simply and honestly, rather than bull-shitting an excuse. If you, honestly, told him that you didn’t have enough time then he would give you more. If you, honestly, told him that you didn’t understand the question posed but were to scared to ask him to clarify it, he would explain it to you. If you came up with a totally plausible but complete pile of horseshit story, he’d very nearly rip your throat out.

Although not the biggest of men, he was incredibly imposing. He had a voice that could move mountains and didn’t give way to anyone. One afternoon whilst tutoring my A-Level English Literature class whilst it was quite hot outside, he had left the door to our classroom open. Another (younger, irritating, “thinks-he’s-one-of-the-lads-but-actually-just-a-bit-of-a-dick” type) teacher’s voice was very audible. Cue Mike marching out of the class-room, into the other teacher’s and bellowing “WILL YOU PLEASE BE QUIET. YOUR VOICE IS ANNOYING ME” and storming out again. Thereafter, cue the sound of an entire class of 12 year olds pissing themselves laughing drifting down the corridors.

Mike was brilliant. He didn’t push me to do anything amazing, I don’t write literature, I’m not a Nobel Prize winning physicist, I don’t help under-privileged jelly-fish climb the social ladder to aquatic acceptance. I do however have a love of literature, I will devour books of all types, I will go to the theatre and the opera on a regular basis, I will write poetry (for myself) and, after having gotten to know him outside of school as well, I will drink gallons of vintage port whilst eating cheese.

And what happened to this bastion of the upper-middle class private school education system? He became a victim of office politics. He had some arguments about his style of teaching (and shouting) with the (new) Head Master. Because he wanted to work part-time (bearing in mind he had been a teacher for over forty years when he taught me) this was used as an excuse to see him shunted swiftly out of the door.

He’s still around, tutoring older persons who want to take an OU degree in their spare time, and catching up with some of his old students on Facebook. He was a legendary tutor, and he inspired generations of his students to love the written word.

Thanks Mike.
( Hunter Stockton was murdered by a bicycle wielding axolotl,.,.,.,., Thu 17 Mar 2011, 15:45, 1 reply)

Clicked
The shouting at the other teacher made me laugh :D
(Sivvus trolley collision in the fruit aisle led to a jam, Thu 17 Mar 2011, 15:58, closed)