THE LAST OF THE BIGWIGS


Monday January 16, 1956 was the beginning of the new school year. A new principal was appointed to the Government Teachers’ Training College at the corner of St Vincent Street and New Street in Port-of-Spain. We were still in the Colonial days and the principal had to be an Englishman.


Mr Harry Joseph, whose sobriquet was ‘‘Harry Joe,’’ addressed the assembly and introduced Mr Norman Brooks who had experience in Kenya-West Africa. Having learnt, he was once a major in the British Army, the teachers nicknamed him ‘‘Major Brooks.’’


In the second week of the term, Lynch, a first teacher from the Anglican hostel in Park Street, was barely able to walk up the steps. When we saw his face, we were horrified. He was almost unrecognisable. Lynch could hardly see, his lips were twice the normal size and his entire face was battered and swollen. His visage was like that of a pugilist who had been pulverised by his opponent.


Major Brooks was red with anger at the emergency assembly but he maintained his composure and never lost control as he went on to castigate verbally the second years for brutalising Lynch who had resisted their attempts to initiate him. The Major condemned initiation completely and announced that the criminal act must be handled by the police.


It never was. We understood that lecturers like Miss Bissessar, Mr Harry Joseph, Mr George Carlton Sampson and Miss Wong Shing, managed to persuade him to deal with the matter internally. One morning, it was raining heavily. Several teachers and even lecturers arrived late.


At an assembly called in the afternoon, Major Brooks said something like this, "You know your climate better than I do. Rain is no excuse for late-coming. Get your umbrella, get your coats. Teachers are duty bound to be on time — every time. Teachers are supposed to be the exemplars to thousands of pupils. Teaching is more a vocation than a profession."


Before we went on three weeks teaching practice, Major Brooks stated that no teacher must interrupt the lesson he is teaching to introduce any lecturer who should come to assess his work.


While I was teaching a standard two class, I turned away for a moment to write on the blackboard, when I faced the class again, there in the back bench seated next to the little boys, was Major Brooks — like Gulliver among the Lilliputians. My heart skipped a beat but carried on as usual. After my lesson, the second year teacher took the class and I met the Major in the corridor. He congratulated me for excellent class control.


There was no drama group in the College, and as I was actively involved in Nelsonians and White Hall Players for five years, I asked his permission to start one. He was quite pleased. After he made the announcement at the assembly, I had my first meeting with eight teachers. My first production was a dramatic reading of Julius Caesar by William Shakespeare. The Major was quite impressed with my interpretation of ‘‘Mark Anthony.’’


Mr Norman Brooks was the last English principal. After Independence in 1962, his contract ended and it was not renewed. He was succeeded by the first lady principal of a Teachers’ Training College in Trinidad and Tobago, Miss Elodie Bissessar who proved to be the principal of principals.


A head teacher told this anecdote to illustrate what can happen when there is education without God. Once an explorer was shocked to witness an educated cannibal chief, enjoying a hearty meal of human flesh.


He asked, "Do you mean to say that you went to college in England and you still eat human beings?"


"Oh yes," replied the chief. "But, of course, now I use a knife and fork."

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"THE LAST OF THE BIGWIGS"

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