Was talking on Skype to my uncle
in New Zealand and the topic of my dad came up. It has been over nine years since he died but he is alive in
memories and conversations with loved ones.
My uncle reminded me of a holiday in Cranfield when he was just a boy and
my father took him with others to examine a bag of cigarettes washed up on the
shore. My father told them all that
there was a chance that people were on the look out with guns for this smuggled
hoard so their race to the beach was filled with danger. My uncle remembers the excitement
and thrill of the escapade and how Dad turned the whole affair into a huge
adventure for them all.
My brother remembers how one night when he went round to my Dad’s school in Dungiven and in the darkness opened the front door and went down a long corridor. Empty school corridors at night are spooky, you almost hear the voices of non-existent pupils echoing from classrooms over the squeak of your shoes on the shiny tiles. Suddenly, at the end of the corridor in the darkest part someone opened fire with a gun and my brother ran for his life while the flashes of gunfire lit up the corridor. It was of course my dad who had let fire with a sports starting pistol to see what my brother would do.
It was never boring with my dad around. He could make every event into an adventure and fun. Even a walk in the fields turned into a geological field trip, or a visit to a castle, a lesson on history. Always informing and educating he could not stop probing your intellect pushing you to find out and want more.
My brother remembers how one night when he went round to my Dad’s school in Dungiven and in the darkness opened the front door and went down a long corridor. Empty school corridors at night are spooky, you almost hear the voices of non-existent pupils echoing from classrooms over the squeak of your shoes on the shiny tiles. Suddenly, at the end of the corridor in the darkest part someone opened fire with a gun and my brother ran for his life while the flashes of gunfire lit up the corridor. It was of course my dad who had let fire with a sports starting pistol to see what my brother would do.
It was never boring with my dad around. He could make every event into an adventure and fun. Even a walk in the fields turned into a geological field trip, or a visit to a castle, a lesson on history. Always informing and educating he could not stop probing your intellect pushing you to find out and want more.
In Dungiven in the 1970s there
was a divide between Catholics and Protestants and yet he was a voice of reason
even then. It was not popular and I was
struck by how ahead of his time, in so many ways, he was. In the tiny secondary school in the Sperrins
he taught children about Geography so well that all could identify every
country on a world map. The only test
was who was the fastest as they raced to the board and labelled the world map
drawn there. He loved world maps and bought the biggest and best he could. I get flashbacks every time I talk on skype
with my son and see over his shoulder a huge world map on his wall. This desire for maps must be genetic! He also taught the children high in the
Sperrins isolated from even NI about all the world religions Buddhist, Hindu,
Islam, Baha'i, Christianity, Judaism etc Even now forty years later our
religious education has not caught up with his wide ranging insights on world
religions.
My son found a newspaper article
(from over thirty years ago) in which my Dad speaks of his educational philosophy
and it resonates still, even fifty years after he practised it in Canada,
Australia and Northern Ireland. It
gives me a fragrance of this lovely man who chose the path less travelled. Here are two excerpts in his own words.
“A relatively small number of
teachers of the right calibre could create a school society in which pupils
could progress to greater awareness of the world about them, their cultural
heritage and a knowledge of their real selves.
Unfortunately, the false values of contemporary society have been
allowed to dictate priorities in education.”
“For me the ideal person is the
man from Nazareth who lived in a society very much like our own and Who in the
midst of all that hatred could say: ‘Love your enemies and do good to those
that hate you.’ One thing for sure is
He did not learn that from the teacher in the synagogue school.”
Very Good
ReplyDeleteA lovely portrait of a great man. His few words speak volumes, and he obviously educated in the true sense of the word you, his daughter and your brothers. With best wishes,Attracta.
ReplyDeletejust spotted this dear Attracta, thanks for your comment xx
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