TRY as I might, I cannot remember any specific details about any of the lessons taught during the thousands of hours I endured during my school career.
There must have been many pearls of wisdom cast before us swine (some of the best years of my life were spent in Standard 7), but they escape me now as they probably did then.
However, I clearly remember some of the teachers, beginning with my Sub A teacher, Miss Hall.
That was before teachers became educators and pupils became learners, the renaming of which escapes me totally.
Doing the math, it was in 1953 (AD) that I met, ie was confronted with, Miss Hall on my first day at school.
No teachers then had first names or even initials, and the fact that she was a ‘miss’ was significant.
She never married and never had children (of her own) – she was dedicated to her profession, nun-like.
She had a big bun (look it up, kids) on her head of immaculately coiffured grey hair.
Prim and proper, she was however given to random acts of violence.
I think she trained in the military and progressed to giving recce courses to storm troopers.
She had a voice that could freeze and would send chills down the spine of Count Dracula.
When she spoke, you listened and obeyed!
In those days, when teachers were allowed to ‘discipline’, she had a wooden ruler that frequently played tunes on our knuckles after inspections of our homework, fingernails, shoes, hair, and so on.
Nobody ever ‘failed’ in her class in 40 years, thanks to the balance of fear and respect she instilled as she opened up the wonderful world of books and learning.
Stickler for correctness
And then there was Mr Lane, our headmaster and my Std 5 English teacher.
A stickler for spelling and grammatical correctness, he made us learn and apply all the rules.
He used to have vocabulary competitions and random general knowledge tests, and made us read books and newspapers.
We learnt prose and poetry, and how to paint pictures with words. He narrated tales with impeccable enunciation.
He showed us how to do cryptic crosswords and how to use language the way a carpenter uses tools.
Mr Lane had a number of oft-repeated sayings. One was: ‘Don’t speak or write to be understood; speak so as not to be misunderstood’.
And, with humour: ‘Never use ‘got’ or ’get’; you’ve got to get out of the habit!’
Through various random events in my life I ended up in journalism and am now a newspaper editor – with no degree from Rhodes or even a technikon diploma.
But I learnt from Miss Hall self-discipline, and how to persevere and push myself.
And from Mr Lane, not just a love for language, but a reasonable ability to convey and translate thoughts into cohesive written stories.
Here’s the thing: neither of them will ever know the contribution they made to my life.
Perhaps this is a positive lesson for all the teachers out there: more than 60 years later, I remember
Miss Hall and Mr Lane.
You, too, will be remembered.
