A favourite teacher
They say that everyone has a favourite teacher, someone who they had a special relationship with who changed their life. I’m lucky (or greedy). I have a number of them.
My really special teacher was a certain Mr Tranter. He’d never know the impact he had on me. I must have only spoken to him a few times and he rarely actually taught me, but I watched him, listened to him and was greatly affected by him.
Mr Tranter was an individual. He came to our school when I was seventeen, taught Rural Science, and left fairly quickly. He was ridiculed by most of my friends who could not handle his eccentricity. I loved it.
Our Rural Science department had sheds, animals and vegetable gardens. The animals included a pig, some chickens and a sheep. The vegetable gardens had a range of vegetables. They were tended by the students under the supervision of Mr Tranter.
Mr Tranter appeared with his casual clothes and a bike. The first thing he did was to declare that his bike was common property, anybody could borrow. This created such a stir among the students who immediately pounced on this as weakness, took to riding it about the school and dumping it in obscure places. Mr Tranter didn’t seem fazed. He calmly retrieved it and carried on.
The rumour was that he lived in the shed with the chickens. I don’t think that was true. Later there was a rumour that he was responsible for the early return of the French Assistant who was no longer menstruating. That might have been true.
That might have been it. He might never have really reached me if it had not been for a rainy Wednesday afternoon.
I was seventeen. I was full of Kerouac, angst, hormones and Rock Music. I was the long-haired rebel. In the 6th Form all the sixth formers were prefects except me. They had duties to perform. They had a Prefect’s Room to play around in. I was not deemed suitable to be a Prefect. That suited me fine. I was banned from the Prefect’s Room so I had no place to go. I had time, because of the lack of duties, so I hung around chatting up the girls. Seemed a good deal to me.
On Wednesday afternoons the Headteacher organised a series of talks from outside speakers. On that rainy day it had obviously gone wrong. Perhaps the speaker had not turned up?
I had just watched a documentary about Donovan the night before. It had made an impression on me. It was an attempt to show his life before fame. He was rambling around the Scottish islands with Gypsy Davey and revisiting those days. I had been enraptured. It seemed to knit in with Kerouac. This was closer to my vision for the future. Rambling round seemed to have far more attraction than a boring career.
So I was ripe.
For some reason the Headteacher had thought that Mr Tranter might like a platform to express his views. We were his audience. I’m still not sure that the Head knew what he was opening us up to.
Mr Tranter bewitched me. He started by telling us he was only working at the school for a short time. He was working in order to earn money. That money was being used to build a boat. He and his friend were attending a course on boat building and another on navigation. They were building their own boat with the intention of heading off around the world. They were planning to work bars, take any casual job they could, and drift around the planet.
I was enthralled.
He then proceeded to tell us about his life prior to arriving at our school.
Mr Tranter had left school with a bunch of qualifications. That should have propelled him to university and a career. It didn’t. He chose a different route.
Back then in 1965/66 people didn’t drop out. The whole antiestablishment view was nascent and confined to a tiny minority. Everyone was heavily in to Rock/Pop music and the fashions that went with it but few were sold on an alternative lifestyle.
Mr Tranter told us about his years of freedom.
He had rented a hut on Box Hill in Surrey. To pay the rent he had taken a paper round. Every morning he got up with the sun and delivered newspapers. The rest of the day was his. He cultivated vegetables that he ate and bartered for other needs. When he needed something more he did odd jobs.
He had time to think, to read and socialise.
It sounded idyllic to me.
I think that hour had more impact on me than anything else.
All my friends came out thinking he was a nutter. But for me I could see the beauty of it all. Life was an adventure. You had to seize it and make the most of it. It made me question what the purpose of my life was.
Mr Tranter opened up my mind to all possibility. That’s real education.
What a teacher! He certainly affected me.
Great idea for a post … cheers, Opher!
I’ve always wanted to pay homage to my heroes!
Homage is a vital ingredient of life worship! I’d really like to work out a replacement for metaphysical superstition along those lines …
Yes. That and a real appreciation of the wonders around us. Should be perfectly feasible. Get on and sort it out Dave!
That is wonderful, what a man. I remember Mr Holmes, young Teacher who taught History, was laughed at by the boys in the class, Mr Holmes would spend weekends making models ie Viking villages etc and then teach us all about it, I loved it so much and my love for history grew and to this day history fascinates me. Miss Toome who taught Literature and English and gave me my love for books and words. Mrs Dignam who taught me to cook and to this day I still love cooking. Great Teachers you never forget.
I like eccentricity and people with great passion. They inspire. I fear that this government is creating teaching by numbers and destroying all that innovation and creativity!
It must really annoy you to see what this lot have done to our education system. Teachers like you and the Teachers I mentioned have such an influence on a life.
It sets my blood boiling!
I bet, if you could would you go back to teaching these days?
I loved teaching but I don’t think I’d survive long in this regime. I’d be arguing too much. I hate teaching to numbers. But I miss the classroom.
Great story, inspiring.
Cheers – I appreciate that.
I can see how he had influence on your life. I would have loved him too.
Hi Mary – I think the sad thing is that we never tell these people that they are special do we?
I try to. My goddaughter just wrote a beautiful to a teacher that influenced her. The teacher nailed her on her lack of respect by skipping class and getting by with her naturally good writing and not putting real effort into it and wasting her brilliance. At the time, Stephie thought she was mean, but she upped her game, began to excel, and thanked her later…after she graduated.
As a therapist, I don’t always know if I helped, but then I get a letter or I see someone living their dream and it is so gratifying. Do you think he is dead? Can you find him? Maybe he could see your interest, and knew he was influencing you. He probably saw something in you that was kindred.
I’ve checked out as much as I could but I haven’t found him. He might still be alive. I don’t think he would have noticed me.
I bet he did.
If he did he probably thought I was a pain in the backside.
That can only be good. He would look back on it and smile.
Yeah – probably. It certainly would be good.
Reblogged this on Opher's World and commented:
Fond memories
Teaching should be about so much more than teaching kids what’s written in textbooks. You’re lucky to find such a great teacher!
Yes. I was lucky. I wish I had let him know it.
If only we could turn back time.
I’d love to go and observe those lessons.
I think we all regret not telling our favorite teacher(s) how they impacted us. This notion reminds me of one student who returned to the school three years after graduation to thank me. He said he was getting ready to leave for classes that morning and was thinking about how much my teaching had contributed to his success in university. He told me that it suddenly occurred to him that I would not know this – so he decided to drop in over the lunch hour and tell me. I felt good – but I also felt bad. I regretted not having the same gumption he did to tell my teachers how they impacted me. Great post, Opher.
Yes it haunts me to this day. They had a huge impact on me.
It is a true note of esteem when a student comes back like that. It shows your worth. Not many take the trouble. Well done John.