Over the many moons that have passed since leaving High School, many memories have been forgotten through time or suppressed by my subconscious. Teachers names have drifted off into the ether, except for two, both for different reasons. These two will probably stick with me till the end of time.
First Mr Bringolfsten, I will at this point state the spelling may be incorrect, the Physics teacher. Noted for arriving at school on a motorbike, looking like Jesus and wearing sandals, He stood out. Remembered because…he was viewed as a rebel to the system and school because of his attire and transport. Can’t remember much about his classes, sorry.
Secondly, by position on this list only, Miss Ross.
I was in Miss Ross’s lessons because I was classed as being a dunce. One of the two groups of children that nobody wanted to be part off.
English was her subject and the school library the classroom, I wonder now if the idea was, place the dunces in a library — maybe the knowledge contained within the books would rub off, smarten us up as it were. What made Miss Ross stand out was her teaching style, I was an individual, in a class of individuals.
It was recognised early on that I had a hunger for reading alone, public speaking was and still is a horror to be gotten over with as quickly as possible, and reading at the pace set by the class was frustrating, especially with a good book. So when it was noticed I had to be told where in the book I was supposed to reading aloud from, followed by the backward turning of the pages to get there, my reading was encouraged to flow at my pace. I remember reading with gusto from then on.
At one point a book was finished that quickly Miss Ross gave me a book not on the syllabus, Animal farm by George Orwell, as she was sure I would enjoy it; when it was time for me to read from the other book, I was told page and paragraph to go to. This was ussually being told to slow my reading aloud down, such was the eagerness to get back to ‘my’ book. This was the kind of encouragement not associated with school, after all it was the same school that said I could not do English literature because of my spelling an ineptitude with a fountain pen, therefore I was not allowed to read Shakespeare.
As part of the English language course, essays had to be written, I hated essays, and because I did they were left till last minute. But Miss Ross enjoyed them, I can still hear her telling me she always looked forward to reading mine, but I never wrote with a beginning or an end, I just started part way through so she felt I had not given some pages to her. She also told me I could, and should, write a book. I never have. The closest I have gotten is to do a Creative Writing class, once again my lack of knowledge about grammar and stuff, along with my spelling, was brought to the fore and my enthusiasm quashed.
Miss Ross’s words were never quashed though and I am sure she would be proud of the fact I am now writing, and enjoying doing so, these blogs. My understanding of the English Language may still be lacking but the fear of writing has been banished. The computer comes with a spelling assistant as a bonus.
My story is closer to being started!