The alpha and omega student

The journey began in 2012.

During 2012 I had the opportunity to reflect on my high school years, 1979 to 1983.

While I have fond memories of this time, I was in such a hurry to grow up that I neglected to enjoy the journey. This is something that I would not fully appreciate until about 2006 when tough journeys would end, and new ones began.

Two of my beautiful boys were challenging their world at every moment. The youngest lad kept getting caught. His time at high school was fraught as he clashed with teachers, systems, rules, norms and everything. There was a moment when I lamented the behaviour of one of his tutors. An educator had harassed my boy. While I empathised with that teacher, their behaviour was unacceptable. My boy responded to a physical threat and went ahead to make himself safe. He went ahead and quit one school and enrol in another. He’d forged his parents’ signatures. While angry, I could not have been prouder.

These events reminded me of my time at school and the excellent teachers who instructed me. I was grateful for their excellence. I realised that some direct gratitude was owed to one instructor that inspired me, who respected me as a young adult and was courageous with feedback and was an even-handed disciplinarian.

Meanwhile, back in 1982.

The alpha class: Andrew Stafford is the middle front, with Wayne Marriott standing second right, top row

I took part in sports, music, and classwork at school while cavorting with girls whenever possible. By the time I completed form six, I’d messed up the priorities and had a summer of reflection on failing the university entrance examination. Something had to give if I was to consider returning to school as a second-year sixth former.

It was not a great start to 1983. Second-year students started after the main cohort and were assembled with instructions on their form rooms and sent on the humiliating journey, one filled with shame and embarrassment. My ticket said S1. Senior block, room one. That was Mr Fergusson’s room. Chemistry. “Why, oh why, did I retake chemistry?” I said out loud as I left the school hall. I’d had Mr F as a form teacher in the third form and the thought of another year with him filled me with dread. The form teacher in my previous year was Mr Stafford. He was pretty good. Why couldn’t I be in his class? As I stood outside S1, the room of my doom, I happened to look into S2. There was my salvation. I knew instinctively what to do. I’d simply cruise into S2 and say hi and, well, just sit down. Opening the door, I stepped inside. Stafford greeted me and said, “Why are you here”? “I’m on your class role, Sir. It says so on this note.” I sat down without showing my lie, and nothing further was said.

For the next ten months, I flourished at school. I was inspired to learn and pass UE. My new priorities became school work, and I was accredited UE with a cohort younger than me, and I even won a school prize for one of my classes. I won the national secondary title for the 3000m race walk and realised my abilities with girls were still under par, but I was committed to keep practising. I dumped music. The brass band would have to do without me.

Mr Stafford was the greatest teacher I’d have had in my school life, and while I was keen to get out of school, I was grateful for his style, demeanour and presence in the classroom.

Fast forward to 2013.

Upon the lamentations of poor teaching of my third off-spring, I decided to find Mr Stafford just to let him know that I had appreciated him and share with him how he influenced my life. [I was originally a radiation therapist, and he was my physics teacher. Twice].

Using Google and a few phone calls later, I found him teaching in Auckland. The trail was tortuous as he had inconveniently left New Zealand to teach in England. However, my abilities at stalking were no match for his avoidance strategy. I was sure that I would speak to him. It would be a quick conversation, and with that, my demons would be excised, and a good deed would be delivered.

I waited a couple of weeks before plucking the courage to call.

I called. He answered.

Breathe.

“Hi”, I said. “I’m sure you don’t remember me, but you were my teacher in 1982, and I just wanted to you to know that you are fabulous and most definitely the best teacher I’ve ever had”.

“I remember you”, he said.

As a consequence of that call, Andrew and I have been friends since.

Fast forward to November 2022.

Catch-ups with Andrew and his family became less frequent owing to the covid pandemic. However, in 2022 I began working predominantly from Auckland, where he lives and works, and I called to say hi and arrange a meeting. He said he was due to retire the following week, and it dawned on him that as I was in his first teaching class, I could also be in his final class too. It was an opportunity too good to resist.

On December 1st, after obtaining approval from the school principal for me to visit the school, Andrew and I met at a nearby café, and after a quick brew, we headed off to attend the final lesson with his year nine students. [Form three in old money]. The group were very welcoming. As Andrew explained the significance of my visit, the class learned that this was his last class before retirement. The resulting wave of noise reflected the adulation the students had for him. Some class members were emotional, and others congratulated him. Gifts and cards were given, and once the cacophony had reduced, the lesson began.

The omega class. Staff in the middle and Marriott at the back to the right

As soon as he said the word parabola, I was lost.  The students were enthralled in their maths, and by the end of the period, students and the instructor were swapping math jokes. I reflected that physics lessons in 1982 and 1983 often ended the same way. I will always remember the passion with which Andrew put into his work that day and the joy in the students as they worked to solve the calculations he presented.

Being in class for his first lesson and at his last was a unique opportunity as I am Stafford’s only alpha and omega student.

It is such a privilege to know this man. I’m not sure how many students he has taught, influenced and inspired, but I’m glad I was one.

Thank you, Andrew Stafford. You are a good man, a top bloke and an expert educator.

Marriott [L] and Stafford [R]. 1st of December 2022