When I think of the German word Fingerspitzengefuhl, I think of Mr Abbot, our science teacher at St Gerard's in Govan, Glasgow.
Academics were in 3A. Girls were 3B, and we were in 3C. Whilst 3 A were absorbed into the more scholarly curriculum that included subjects like Latin, French and German, we, 3C focused on technical subjects like metalwork and woodwork. We were the offspring of hard drinking, macho shipbuilders. We were destined for the shipbuilding yards like our fathers and forefathers.
With that in mind, Mr A knew we would never be Nobel Prize Winners in science, so, he taught us to make fishing rods. Every Thursday, with our two periods of science, we would get out the fiberglass, glue and twine, and skilfully make seven-foot fly rods. They were works of art and it engendered self-esteem in us teenagers.
When the project was completed, he would take us all in the minibus over to the Clydebank canal to catch 1-to-3-pound goldfish. Yes, you read correctly: goldfish.
During the war, families could not obtain food for the pet fish, so they did the humane thing and poured them into the canal. The warm water emanating from the nearby Singer Sowing Machine factory allowed the fish to thrive and reach considerable sizes.
Fingerspitzengefuhl (literary finger-feeling) describes someone who has the finger on the pulse. Someone who can assess human nature and bring the best out in them.
Mr Abbott changed our life. Every weekend, Sammy, Tam and I would hop on the bus with our rods and fish in the Barrhead Dams and Loch Libo in Neilston. Many young people in those days adopted a life of gang violence and crime and I often wonder, what if I, we, never experienced Mr A's Fingerspitzengefuhl?
Good Morning Germany! I Like That Word
“The mediocre teacher tells.
The good teacher explains.
The superior teacher demonstrates.
The great teacher inspires.”
― William Arthur Ward
Image by https://unsplash.com/@mockupgraphics
When I think of the German word Fingerspitzengefuhl, I think of Mr Abbot, our science teacher at St Gerard's in Govan, Glasgow.
Academics were in 3A. Girls were 3B, and we were in 3C. Whilst 3 A were absorbed into the more scholarly curriculum that included subjects like Latin, French and German, we, 3C focused on technical subjects like metalwork and woodwork. We were the offspring of hard drinking, macho shipbuilders. We were destined for the shipbuilding yards like our fathers and forefathers.
With that in mind, Mr A knew we would never be Nobel Prize Winners in science, so, he taught us to make fishing rods. Every Thursday, with our two periods of science, we would get out the fiberglass, glue and twine, and skilfully make seven-foot fly rods. They were works of art and it engendered self-esteem in us teenagers.
When the project was completed, he would take us all in the minibus over to the Clydebank canal to catch 1-to-3-pound goldfish. Yes, you read correctly: goldfish.
During the war, families could not obtain food for the pet fish, so they did the humane thing and poured them into the canal. The warm water emanating from the nearby Singer Sowing Machine factory allowed the fish to thrive and reach considerable sizes.
Fingerspitzengefuhl (literary finger-feeling) describes someone who has the finger on the pulse. Someone who can assess human nature and bring the best out in them.
Mr Abbott changed our life. Every weekend, Sammy, Tam and I would hop on the bus with our rods and fish in the Barrhead Dams and Loch Libo in Neilston. Many young people in those days adopted a life of gang violence and crime and I often wonder, what if I, we, never experienced Mr A's Fingerspitzengefuhl?
Writing: © 2024 Jim McCrory