Just thought I'd share a few thoughts on the role of teachers that have come to me as a consequence of recent events.
I've been to Greekland as part of the 'responsible adult contingent' (aka, one of the parents) that accompanied the boys at my son's school on a Classics tour of Greece.
Now, as someone who left school at 16 with buggerall by way of qualifications, this was as near scholarly heaven as I can imagine; and I have a big imagination. The Acropolis, Delphi, Olympia, Tiryns, the palaces of Mycenae...Astonishing. And to stand in the very starting blocks on the stade running track that's still there from about 2-and-a-bit-thousand years ago when the original buttnekkid Olympians did the same was mildly brain boggling.(Not that we were buttnekkid ourselves, you understand...)
But what bought all this to life was Mr. Barry, my son's classics teacher, who at 74 (yup, your read it right!) is still full of zest (I've really resisted the word 'passion'), enthusiasm and utter joy for his subject. His gentle, quiet, easy charm had the boy's eating from his palm as he bought the stones and ruins to life with his seemingly fathomless knowledge of Greek antiquity and his mesmeric storytelling of the ancient myths and legends. He never had to raise his voice or admonish a single soul. The respect he afforded the boys was returned in spades. The nearest he got to having to bring on the heavy guns of discipline was to say something along the lines, of, 'now listen boys, this is really interesting...' - and he'd have them back eating from the palm of his hands. Think Mr. Chips and you're someway toward understanding the genteel calibre of the man.
Ask the boys what was the best aspect of the trip and I'm certain that they'd all mention Mr. Barry telling tales of Greek mythology as we travelled by coach across the Peloponnese. In true style, having captured their attention and imagination for an hour or so he'd get to the cliff-hanger moment -('and what do you think happened to Perseus, boys? Well, that's a story for tomorrow...') - to the howls of anguish from the boys - 'Ohhh, but Sir.....!!'
My son and his friends - aged between 11 and 13 - may not ever realise the preciousness and extraordinarily rare privilege they were afforded by being guided by such a talented, gifted and inordinately generous teacher. In a world in which we read almost daily about how little teachers are held in respect by students and parents alike, I know beyond any measure of doubt that the likes of Mr. Barry are a rare and possibly vanishing kind.
The school only runs this particular Classics trip once every four years. The stark reality is that it's highly unlikely that Mr. Barry will do the trip again. To have been a part of it was to have witnessed something very special. And not least, what it made me realise is that truly great teachers are extremely rare; that they truly can help shape the lives of those in their care; that they can fire dreams, ambitions and a lust for learning. Such teachers that do exist should be among the most treasured members of our society.Why aren't they?
My son and his peers may not fully realise quite how special the likes of Mr. Barry is. But as a grizzly fifty-three-year-old, hanging onto his every sagely insight, I most certainly, humbly, do.
Thank you, Mr. Chips...
Just thought I'd share a few thoughts on the role of teachers that have come to me as a consequence of recent events.
I've been to Greekland as part of the 'responsible adult contingent' (aka, one of the parents) that accompanied the boys at my son's school on a Classics tour of Greece.
Now, as someone who left school at 16 with buggerall by way of qualifications, this was as near scholarly heaven as I can imagine; and I have a big imagination. The Acropolis, Delphi, Olympia, Tiryns, the palaces of Mycenae...Astonishing. And to stand in the very starting blocks on the stade running track that's still there from about 2-and-a-bit-thousand years ago when the original buttnekkid Olympians did the same was mildly brain boggling.(Not that we were buttnekkid ourselves, you understand...)
But what bought all this to life was Mr. Barry, my son's classics teacher, who at 74 (yup, your read it right!) is still full of zest (I've really resisted the word 'passion'), enthusiasm and utter joy for his subject. His gentle, quiet, easy charm had the boy's eating from his palm as he bought the stones and ruins to life with his seemingly fathomless knowledge of Greek antiquity and his mesmeric storytelling of the ancient myths and legends. He never had to raise his voice or admonish a single soul. The respect he afforded the boys was returned in spades. The nearest he got to having to bring on the heavy guns of discipline was to say something along the lines, of, 'now listen boys, this is really interesting...' - and he'd have them back eating from the palm of his hands. Think Mr. Chips and you're someway toward understanding the genteel calibre of the man.
Ask the boys what was the best aspect of the trip and I'm certain that they'd all mention Mr. Barry telling tales of Greek mythology as we travelled by coach across the Peloponnese. In true style, having captured their attention and imagination for an hour or so he'd get to the cliff-hanger moment -('and what do you think happened to Perseus, boys? Well, that's a story for tomorrow...') - to the howls of anguish from the boys - 'Ohhh, but Sir.....!!'
My son and his friends - aged between 11 and 13 - may not ever realise the preciousness and extraordinarily rare privilege they were afforded by being guided by such a talented, gifted and inordinately generous teacher. In a world in which we read almost daily about how little teachers are held in respect by students and parents alike, I know beyond any measure of doubt that the likes of Mr. Barry are a rare and possibly vanishing kind.
The school only runs this particular Classics trip once every four years. The stark reality is that it's highly unlikely that Mr. Barry will do the trip again. To have been a part of it was to have witnessed something very special. And not least, what it made me realise is that truly great teachers are extremely rare; that they truly can help shape the lives of those in their care; that they can fire dreams, ambitions and a lust for learning. Such teachers that do exist should be among the most treasured members of our society.Why aren't they?
My son and his peers may not fully realise quite how special the likes of Mr. Barry is. But as a grizzly fifty-three-year-old, hanging onto his every sagely insight, I most certainly, humbly, do.