Latin and Greek are subjects rarely studied in schools now. So I was lucky to have the unique experience of studying the Classics, and it changed me as much as any other experience in my life.
When I left my secondary school at 13, I was quite wayward - in Dutch they would say I was "eigenwijs", which loosely translated tells that if the world was directing me to the right, I took the road to the left. My parents wondered whether I would respond to the greater discipline of the more serious and academically-focused grammar school which I had the chance to transfer to. Luckily, they came to conclusion that I would handle it somehow.
It was a good decision, largely because the school offered Latin and Greek, taught by the timeless Classics master Mr Watson-Wemyss. His second name is pronounced 'Weems' - in the past it was 'classy' to have such a double-barrelled name with part of it pronounced completely differently to the way to it was written. It seemed absolutely appropriate for the pipe-smoking pedagogue whose tweed-suited appearance was a modern day throwback to Sherlock Holmes.
Subjects like Physics, Chemistry, History and Geography totally passed me by, as I cheated through exams, caused trouble in class and did no homework due to the ever-perplexing questions I threw at myself such as "what on earth am I going to do with knowledge about Sheep-Farming in Holland?". I remember coming home one Friday and complaining to my parents that we had spent a whole 2-hour lesson in Physics heating up the same piece of metal in 4 different ways and measuring the results - what was the point? My Dad, an engineer by study, tried to explain the concept of understanding stresses on metal and the value of this knowledge but the whole thing left me cold.
In contrast, Latin and Greek did it for me. The concept of de-ciphering these ancient and barely studied codes was fascinating for some part of my curious and slightly bored head, and the subjects were undoubtedly enhanced by the enigmatic Watson-Wemyss. He would enter the class calmly, take his pipe and empty it by tapping the pipe-bowl against his heel into the rubbish bin, fill it lovingly with shag tobacco, light it, puff away for 10-15 seconds, blow a plume of smoke in the general direction of the aether, and after this 3 minute ritual would suggest "a little Thucidydes today?" as if we helpless pubescants had a choice. Marvellous.
Of course, passive smoking had not been invented in the early-80's. The concept of a teacher smoking in class now is unthinkable, but at the time I loved it. The pipe was part of his whole character which exuded classic style and higher purpose. I had the feeling that this was a teacher who knew something more than me and who could help me step forward as a person in a way that no other teacher made me feel before.
At the age of 14, I sat in Greek class with Neil MacDonald (now a Chess Grand Master), Nicholas White (now a Grammy nominated composer and Organist, living in New York) and Stephen Sorrell (what on earth became of him?). German and French lessons were populated with 30 kids per class, but we had this unique little group of oddballs who were steered towards Oxford University by our eccentric and Oxford-educated teacher. Sitting in the tiny brick room on the top floor, calmed by the pervasive pipe-nicotine, grappling with authors like Euripides and Cicero, Homer and Juvenal, was a life-forming experience.
At a certain moment, I turned from being an annoying and too-loud presence in the Physics and Geography class to becoming a serious-minded young man with ambitions. The biggest influence on that was the concentration and focus of studying Latin and Greek. Being in the presence of this unique teacher and believing we were walking in the footsteps of serious scholars gave me a feeling of gravity and confidence that was missing until then. My "eigenwijs" nature was of course due to a lack of confidence and belief in myself. It was changed by doing something unusual and having what felt like an 'elevated' purpose.
Watson-Wemyss had an amazing track record of getting kids into Oxford University. Getting a place Oxford gave access to the highest level of Classics study possible, and his connections in the past clearly put some of the kids in good stead to get in. But his powers were waning by the time we applied. None of us got offered places in the winter of '84, and this was followed by disastrous 'A' Level results in summer '85. Neil somehow contrived to fail Latin, and Nick, Stephen and I got B's and C's when all of us were predicted to get A's.
I find it difficult to blame Watson-Wemyss - he made such a positive impact on my life and I will never forget it - but probably something went wrong in the way he prepared us for the exams. No matter, we all found our way and have had great lives since then (at least I hope so in Stephen's case. He certainly had the intelligence to do something great.) I guess the moral of that particular phase of life is clear - the result on paper is not so important as the result in character.
After failing to get into Oxford, I was influenced by another important person in my life, the father of a good friend who had taught Latin and Greek at University. He convinced me that the pursuit of the Classics was pointless in modern day life and that I should consider any of 4 different languages for the future - Chinese, Arabic, Japanese or Russian. The choice I made and why I made it is for another posting.
But for now, I keep the memory of making the transformation from wayward to purposeful, thanks to the influence of a study and a teacher, both of which changed my life.
When I left my secondary school at 13, I was quite wayward - in Dutch they would say I was "eigenwijs", which loosely translated tells that if the world was directing me to the right, I took the road to the left. My parents wondered whether I would respond to the greater discipline of the more serious and academically-focused grammar school which I had the chance to transfer to. Luckily, they came to conclusion that I would handle it somehow.
It was a good decision, largely because the school offered Latin and Greek, taught by the timeless Classics master Mr Watson-Wemyss. His second name is pronounced 'Weems' - in the past it was 'classy' to have such a double-barrelled name with part of it pronounced completely differently to the way to it was written. It seemed absolutely appropriate for the pipe-smoking pedagogue whose tweed-suited appearance was a modern day throwback to Sherlock Holmes.
Subjects like Physics, Chemistry, History and Geography totally passed me by, as I cheated through exams, caused trouble in class and did no homework due to the ever-perplexing questions I threw at myself such as "what on earth am I going to do with knowledge about Sheep-Farming in Holland?". I remember coming home one Friday and complaining to my parents that we had spent a whole 2-hour lesson in Physics heating up the same piece of metal in 4 different ways and measuring the results - what was the point? My Dad, an engineer by study, tried to explain the concept of understanding stresses on metal and the value of this knowledge but the whole thing left me cold.
In contrast, Latin and Greek did it for me. The concept of de-ciphering these ancient and barely studied codes was fascinating for some part of my curious and slightly bored head, and the subjects were undoubtedly enhanced by the enigmatic Watson-Wemyss. He would enter the class calmly, take his pipe and empty it by tapping the pipe-bowl against his heel into the rubbish bin, fill it lovingly with shag tobacco, light it, puff away for 10-15 seconds, blow a plume of smoke in the general direction of the aether, and after this 3 minute ritual would suggest "a little Thucidydes today?" as if we helpless pubescants had a choice. Marvellous.
Of course, passive smoking had not been invented in the early-80's. The concept of a teacher smoking in class now is unthinkable, but at the time I loved it. The pipe was part of his whole character which exuded classic style and higher purpose. I had the feeling that this was a teacher who knew something more than me and who could help me step forward as a person in a way that no other teacher made me feel before.
At the age of 14, I sat in Greek class with Neil MacDonald (now a Chess Grand Master), Nicholas White (now a Grammy nominated composer and Organist, living in New York) and Stephen Sorrell (what on earth became of him?). German and French lessons were populated with 30 kids per class, but we had this unique little group of oddballs who were steered towards Oxford University by our eccentric and Oxford-educated teacher. Sitting in the tiny brick room on the top floor, calmed by the pervasive pipe-nicotine, grappling with authors like Euripides and Cicero, Homer and Juvenal, was a life-forming experience.
At a certain moment, I turned from being an annoying and too-loud presence in the Physics and Geography class to becoming a serious-minded young man with ambitions. The biggest influence on that was the concentration and focus of studying Latin and Greek. Being in the presence of this unique teacher and believing we were walking in the footsteps of serious scholars gave me a feeling of gravity and confidence that was missing until then. My "eigenwijs" nature was of course due to a lack of confidence and belief in myself. It was changed by doing something unusual and having what felt like an 'elevated' purpose.
Watson-Wemyss had an amazing track record of getting kids into Oxford University. Getting a place Oxford gave access to the highest level of Classics study possible, and his connections in the past clearly put some of the kids in good stead to get in. But his powers were waning by the time we applied. None of us got offered places in the winter of '84, and this was followed by disastrous 'A' Level results in summer '85. Neil somehow contrived to fail Latin, and Nick, Stephen and I got B's and C's when all of us were predicted to get A's.
I find it difficult to blame Watson-Wemyss - he made such a positive impact on my life and I will never forget it - but probably something went wrong in the way he prepared us for the exams. No matter, we all found our way and have had great lives since then (at least I hope so in Stephen's case. He certainly had the intelligence to do something great.) I guess the moral of that particular phase of life is clear - the result on paper is not so important as the result in character.
After failing to get into Oxford, I was influenced by another important person in my life, the father of a good friend who had taught Latin and Greek at University. He convinced me that the pursuit of the Classics was pointless in modern day life and that I should consider any of 4 different languages for the future - Chinese, Arabic, Japanese or Russian. The choice I made and why I made it is for another posting.
But for now, I keep the memory of making the transformation from wayward to purposeful, thanks to the influence of a study and a teacher, both of which changed my life.
