Reflections on my journey through the Boys’ Grammar School
CHAPTER SIX – THE SCHOOL MASTERS – part 1
BY OSWALD FEREIRA
madungo@shaw.ca
Like the Headmasters, many of our teaching masters were foreigners. We had many Vincentians who taught as Junior masters, then went off to university. Some came back for a short while, then left again; others never returned. Apart from a few, the turnover was very rapid and it was difficult adjusting to new faces and new teaching styles year after year.{{more}}
The majority of our foreign teachers came to us from Canada and a few from England. They filled gaps without which our education could have never been complete. They were mostly specialists in their chosen field. They were not from the detention and âBlack Bookâ culture and while we had a great deal of respect for them, there was not that great element of fear. They were businesslike in their approach. They played the role of mentors and there was mutual respect in the classroom.
I will now pay tribute to some of the teachers who left their mark on my psyche. Space does not allow me to include all who taught me, but rest assured that for good or bad, you are remembered in some small ways.
Our beloved Mr Roberts or âOld Robbieâ, as we affectionately named him, was a Canadian who stayed with us for many years. He was such a talent. He taught me English, History, Geography, French and, I believe, Math. He also taught Art when it was introduced into the school and he taught Economics to the Sixth Form. Year after year, he was a fixture in my classroom. His approach to writing essays was different. He suggested that our sentences should be short, we should use the period frequently and we should use simple words. This was in stark contrast to other English teachers who encouraged the use of big words, to the point where a composition would be incomprehensible to the common folk – they wanted us to be walking dictionaries. I distinctly remember that Mr Roberts made us all write the word âniceâ on a piece of paper. His instructions were to fold the paper, place it in our pocket, take it home, dig a hole and bury it, as he never again wanted to see the word âniceâ in an essay, or it will mean an automatic zero.
Who could ever forget Tim Daisy? Tim was a local, slim built, but with a commanding voice. He taught me History in the First Form and at the time he had not yet attended university. He was a carefree soul, loved by all. He challenged us to be the best that we could be. He would have been a fantastic drama teacher; pity we did not have Theatre Arts on the curriculum.
I had a series of Math teachers and three stood out. I started out in Form One, new to Algebra and Geometry. My teacher (name withheld) was a local, a BGS alumnus who was a recent B.Sc. graduate. I struggled and received poor grades. My teacherâs reaction was that if we got less than 50% in two out of the three – Arithmetic, Algebra, and Geometry, our names will be placed in âThe Black Bookâ. I was in the 40% range in two of the three, so my name was likely placed in the âBlack Bookâ because of my poor performance. I was in a state of doubt and confusion. I reasoned that being one of the top 36 who passed the Common Entrance Examinations, I should have the aptitude to be successful. For some reason my teacher could not connect with me and I floundered. His reaction was that I was dumb and placing me in âThe Black Bookâ was the solution. Teaching is communication and communication is a two-way process. I was disappointed that it did not even cross his mind that perhaps the fault was partly his and that perhaps a different approach to his teaching method was indicated. He simply wrote me off. Here was a BGS alumnus who should have remembered the struggles of a newbie to the school system, a person who should have been part of dismantling the system of control and corporal punishment. Instead he jumped into it with both feet.
Luckily in my second year, we had two math classes due to the large size of the class and I was placed in the class of a Mr âJuniorâ Lewis from Fountain. He too was a local who had not yet attended university, but his teaching method was fabulous. He encouraged and nurtured his students. In two months I had progressed from the mid-forties to the high 90âs in Arithmetic, Algebra and Geometry and I maintained those grades all year. Sadly, Mr Lewis went off to university at the end of the teaching year. Then, in the Fifth Form I had Mr Drakes. Mr Drakes was a Barbadian, but a long-time resident of St Vincent. We inherited him from the Emmanuel High School. He did not have a university degree, but what a mathematical mind he had! Like with Mr Lewis, my grades quickly soared into the 90âs and stayed there all year. Mr Drakes was a great teacher. He always had an encouraging word and he never discouraged us or berated us. He genuinely wanted us to succeed. When I returned home to SVG for Christmas and summer breaks from university, I would inevitably meet Mr Drakes on the street in Kingstown. He always stopped and chatted with me, always asking how my university studies were coming along. He taught me for just one year, but he knew who I was and his caring was genuine, thank you Mr Drakes!
Chapter 6 to be continued
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