Reflections on my journey through the Boys’ Grammar School

Tue, May 8. 2012

CHAPTER SIX – THE SCHOOL MASTERS – part 2

by OSWALD FEREIRA
madungo@shaw.ca

French, like Math, for me had its ups and downs. In Lower School Mr Roberts and Oswald Peters saw me through with grades as high as 80. Then came Mr Squires, a Barbadian with a B.Sc. and things went downhill fast. By the end of the Fourth Form, I wanted nothing to do with French. I asked to be allowed to take Spanish in the Fifth Form, but I was told that since I was in the Science option I must take French. So, the Fifth Form French was a disaster.{{more}} I was taking a subject that I felt forced to take, that did not interest me and with a teacher that could not reach me. I was failing and Mr Squires simply berated us. One day, he announced to the class that only one of us will pass French at “O” Levels. It was one of the lowest experiences of my school career. I know that many of us, myself included, were genuinely trying to succeed. Since we all knew who that one person was, the remaining 30 students had a meeting, formed a pact, marched to the top of the hill and threw away our text and note books. We all refused to do any further study or assignment in French and proceeded to fail with a zero. It was sad, because 30 students failed with the score of zero, but along with us, our teacher and Headmaster also failed. Under different circumstances some of us may have been successful and the authorities may have demanded an explanation for such a dismal failure. It leaves you to wonder if the Ministry of Education ever audited the School.

Kerwyn Morris was a local, my Biology teacher in the Sixth Form. Kerwyn was quite a character, considered by many as a radical, perhaps because he expressed his political views freely and they may not have been fully in line with the status quo. To me, he was a warm and encouraging human being. He had nothing but kind words and he was perhaps the one teacher that treated his students as young adults. There was never any instance of control. His classes were always fun. He would often discuss matters outside the curriculum with us, but never once did he try to impose his political views upon us. I remember turning up to class on the day of university scholarship exams. Kerwyn was furious, because all my classmates were writing the exams and I was not. He was disappointed that I was turning my back on an opportunity of a scholarship to university. I guess that I redeemed myself, in that I placed first in Sciences on the Cambridge “A” Levels and won the St Vincent Agricultural Scholarship in 1967.

Geography was my best subject in school and I was largely in the hands of the Hadleys. Mr Hadley was the most expressive teacher that ever stood in front of a class. I can still visualize him at the black-board, demonstrating how fold mountains were formed, or how volcanoes erupted. On many an exam, when I was partially stumped, I would close my eyes and visualize him at the black-board and wrote what I saw. I always passed. In my final year of Sixth Form, the Hadleys retired and I had Mary Dennie, an Englishwoman. She was a motivator and I distinctly remember that she was the only teacher who took her class on a field trip, a trip to La Soufriere – finally we were connecting the classroom to the local environment.

I was in the Science stream throughout school. My grounding in Chemistry was gained at the hands of Roy Austin, another local, then without a university degree. His easy going attitude and gentle encouragement is never forgotten. Like Kerwyn Morris, there was never an element of control. He prepared me well for the challenges of the Fifth and Sixth Forms. Again, after one year, he left for university. The Canadians – Mr Whitely, Mr Percival and Mr Brockman, filled in the remainder of my Chemistry and Physics classes.

I am sure that we all remember our beloved caretaker “Miss Emily” or “Ma Emily”, as she was affectionately called. She lived in a house behind the old school building. Not only did she keep the classrooms and surroundings clean, she also had a thriving business, selling mauby and cakes from her house. She was definitely the “School Mother”, always ready to keep us all in line.

In retrospect, it is heartening to look back and recall, from my perspective, that in the culture of control, the teachers who assumed a mentor role left pleasant memories and success, while those who assumed the role of controller left not so pleasant memories and poorer results. In my opinion, some masters tried too hard, were too controlling, or even took on an air of superiority. Their intent may have been genuine, but their method of delivery caused alienation on the part of the student. Teaching is a skill that requires much dedication and caring for one’s charges. Having a degree does not necessarily make one a good teacher. A good teacher is one who can engage his students, communicate with them effectively, and bring out the best in each child, bearing in mind that the best does not always mean a grade of “A”. Mr Drakes, Mr Lewis, and Roy Austin fit my bill as good teachers and, while they taught me, they had no university degree. Also, add Mr Hadley and “Old Robbie” to this list.