Jenny Mallett (my standard 2 teacher)

One of my favourite and most influential teachers at St Georges was beautiful Jenny Mallett.

Jenny was a veritable force of nature.  A large woman with a booming, strident voice, she always carried a big wooden ruler that she would rap against the wall to make a loud noise if she was angry or wanted everyone to be quiet.  But she never once hit anyone with it.  I was scared of her to start, but soon I began to realise that under the tough exterior, there was an extremely caring, affirming and wonderful person.  As someone else once said, "We all got to experience that growl at times, but inside Jenny was the biggest marshmallow filled with love."  She was the kind of person you felt you could confide in and you could always rely on her to give you gentle words of encouragement and honest feedback.  But woe and betide if you misbehaved or made her lose her temper.  She had a very low tolerance for laziness or bullying or serial misbehaving.

When I was 9, I had Jenny as my class teacher and I loved being in her class except for Fridays when we would conduct one of her dreaded mental tests.  Jenny would shout out "times table questions" in rapid succession and we would have to write the answers as quickly as we could in to keep up.  And you certainly didn't want to get more than a few wrong or you would be in big trouble.

Jenny taught swimming too and her strident voice would boom out across the pool as she stood, bouncing on the diving board, giving instructions to the swimmers.  The more excited or upset Jenny got, the more she would bounce and we often anticipated her bounces becoming sufficient to launch her large frame into the pool.  But it never happened while I was there.  However it was rumoured that a few years previously, Jenny had got so upset with a student who would not follow instructions that she had leapt off her perch into the water below with a mighty splash and dunked the poor chap.  This was a school legend and I very much doubt it ever actually happened.

Some treasured memories of Jenny

• Jenny organising the bi-annual school plays like Oliver and Tom Sawyer.  She directed each play and was a logistical genius, organising and facilitating every little thing to the tiniest detail.
• Going to squash every Friday out in Goodwood.  Jenny would drive the bus and then organise the matches. The student who won each week was rewarded with a delicious, cool drink of power-aid.
• Jenny as the head of my school house (Shaw) and wanting to make her proud at school galas and athletic sports days.  I remember her wonderful exuberance when I broke the high jump record and when I won 4 cups in one year for high jump and long jump (first place in my age group and in the age group above me.)
• How Jenny loved sport and her coaching of the  Under 9 rugby (the barefoot league as it was known.)  I really enjoyed rugby though I wasn't very good at it to start.  According to mum, I used to stand on the field and suck my fingers.  Later on, however, I got better and won an award for most improved rugby player.
• Jenny's wonderful and distinctive belly laugh. She had such an exuberance for living.
• Jenny's mum who worked in the library.  She was such a warm and lovely person - I think that's where Jenny got her warmth from.
• Jenny's brother David who coached us in rugby in later years.  He went on to become one of South Africa's most successful coaches of all time, inspiring the national rugby team to an unprecedented number of successive victories.
• At dad's funeral in 1995 (17 years after school), I kept it together until after the service, when Jenny came to give me her condolences and I burst into tears and had a beautiful cry in her full bodied embrace.
  

In 1999, Jenny died young at age 48.  She went diving and had a aneurism or something like that. It was such a sad day when I heard of her passing.  I just couldn't imagine the world and especially the world of St Georges without her powerful presence. She was larger than life and enriched the life of her students in so many way. If there is such a thing as heaven, she is one of the first people I will look up and get a hug from.

Teacher tributes

It feels sad knowing some of your teachers have passed away, especially ones you were close to.  It reminds you of your own mortality and the fact you're now significantly older than many of them were when they taught you!  

I saw tributes on The Old Georgian Union website for the following teachers.

Shirley Allan (Sub B teacher)

• Shirley Allan, passed away on 25 August 2015 in the UK. Shirley taught in the Prep School at St George’s for 24 years from 1974 - 1998. Over the years she set a firm foundation for many Georgians.

Brian Snaddon (Std 7 teacher)

• Brian Snaddon (Staff member 1985 - 1990) passed away 25th Aug 2011 in Cape Town.

Joan Suttle (English teacher, senior school)

• Joan Suttle (Staff 1986 – 1990) passed away on Monday, 29 April 2019. Our sincere condolences to her far-flung family, from many who benefited from knowing her at St George's.
  
  On 30 April of Mrs Joan Suttle who with her husband, Ray, arrived from Zimbabwe to teach at St George's towards the end of 1986. Ray taught Latin here for many years before moving first to Herschel then to Bishops to teach that subject.
  
  During her time at SGGS, Mrs Suttle - known to the pupils as M'am - taught English to Matric candidates. She always demanded the very highest standards of speech, expression and courtesy; her excellent work was reflected in our great success in public-speaking, debating and the annual Eisteddfod, and many will remember her production of 'Joseph and his Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat' and her fortnightly sessions of public speaking in the Hall.
  
  In December 1990, after teaching here for nearly six years, she left to concentrate on her estate agency work, but continued to live at St George's while her husband taught Latin here; he also ran the cricket, the rugby and the squash."

Other teachers I know have passed

• Geoff Burton, Std 8 teacher  (from cancer)
• Ray Suttle
• Jenny Mallet, Std 2 teacher  (in the 1990's after diving)

Mr Cannon (my wonderful school principal)

 

Mr Cannon and his lovely wife (Wendy I think her name was)

Mr Cannon was my school headmaster from St 7 year (1984) to the end of school.  He was a wonderful, charismatic, and most of all, warm man who I felt far more connected to than the rather dour and strict Mr Dods who preceded him.

Most of all, Mr Canon was an unbelievable teacher and I was privileged to be taught history by him in the year he arrived.  He devoted half the year to an alternative syllabus where we had to glean history for ourselves using clues from archaeological finds and alternative viewpoints and witnessed accounts, rather like a detective does. 

The most memorable lesson I've ever had was him facilitating a session one day when Mr Hart, the deputy head, came into the class.  Mr Hart was very angry and said something along the lines of, "I saw you eyeing up my wife the other day, how dare you!!"  Or something to that effect (I'm not sure Mr Hart was actually married!)  

Anyway, Mr Cannon and Mr Hart proceeded to get into a mini scuffle in the classroom with Mr Hart pushing Mr Cannon up against the blackboard and more angry words were said.  Then Mr Hart exclaimed "You haven't heard the end of this!" and stormed out of the classroom.  

We were all shocked of course!  In a state of disbelief.  Wow, what had just happened?

Mr Canon straightened his tie and turned to us. Then he smiled and said, "Right class, what did just happen here?"

We realised that the little drama we had just witnessed had been put on for our benefit.  There was much laughter and a fair bit of relief.

Mr Cannon then asked us a series of questions as to what had been said, what Mr Hart had been wearing, what we had insinuated from the whole encounter.

There were many variations in our accounts.  We all remembered things differently and had made different conclusions according to what he had seen and heard.

Mr Cannon then grinned with great satisfaction and said, "Well class, if you can't all agree on something you all witnessed first-hand just 10 minutes ago, how in the hell can you believe in historical accounts?  How can you believe in history?

It's a lesson that has stayed with me all my life since then. It happened nearly 40 years ago, yet I still remember it and reflect on it.  If that's not powerful teaching, what is?

My most memorable teachers

I wrote this true short piece for students to introduce "used to" and "would" to talk about repeated actions and states in the past.


I used to go to a small school in South Africa for boys only. I went to the same school for twelve years.  I used to love Biology but I didn't use to like Latin.

At first, my favourite teacher was Mr Howard, my Biology teacher.  During the school holidays, he used to travel a lot . When he returned, he would show us amazing photos of animals and plants from his trips.  My love for nature, travel and photography is thanks to him.

When I was older, my favourite teacher was Miss Jones, my Maths Teacher.  She was young and pretty and she used to wear a different coloured ribbon in her hair every day.  Each day before she came into class, we would try to guess the colour of her ribbon.  The whole class had a crush on her. We’d usually behave badly in class but we were like meek puppies when she was around.

My scariest teacher was Mrs Ford. She was always bad tempered and she would sometimes shout at us until our ears hurt.  If you did something wrong, she used to stand behind you and pinch your ear lobe till you begged for mercy.  I remember her well.  I still sometimes see her in my nightmares.

[Note: The final teacher is fictional but is inspired by Mam Suttle who did indeed pinch our ear lobes from behind if we misbehaved!]

Letter to Mr Suttle

Mr Suttle taught me Latin through my senior school years.  He taught us Latin translation (using brilliant texts he'd developed himself) and also inspired in me a lasting love of Roman history.  As part of our final year, we had to write 3 extended essays on aspects of Roman history and it gave rise to a level of enthusiasm and creativity in me that surprised and delighted me.  You can read one of them here.

Ray Suttle also taught us how to create and use mind maps as a way to study.  I immediately fell in love with this visual and practical tool and used it extensively in my final school year of study. I also used it at university and have used it often in my career.

Ray was elderly and suffered from gout which made him move very slowly.  Some of the boys called him "Speed Wobble" as a result. In his prime, he was the headmaster of a very reputable private school in Zimbabwe.  He was very highly respected for this leadership and scholarly excellence in the Latin field.  However, by the time he came to St Georges, Latin was rapidly falling out of favour, regarded as a dead language and no longer relevant for the modern age.  In our class, there were only three students who studied it. Everyone else opted for Geography instead.  It was the same story in all the younger classes at St Georges.  I think Ray felt this lack of interest very keenly.

In my final exam at school, I gained a distinction in Latin, thanks to Ray's excellent teaching.  This distinction, coupled with a distinction in Afrikaans, earned me a distinction overall which meant the world to me.

I left school, and went to the University of Cape Town on the slopes of Table Mountain to study 1st year Zoology and Botany. However, on a regular basis, I would return to the vicinity of my old school because I was a member of a youth group in the area.

One night, before going to the youth group, I suddenly felt inspired to write Ray Suttle a letter. It was a thank you note, written quickly on a blank piece of paper, but written from the heart.  I thanked him for his excellent teaching that had earned me my distinction. I told him how much I had enjoyed the classes and that I was finding the Latin really useful in my Zoology and Botany lessons. I also told him how much I benefited by using the mind-maps he had taught us.  

As I drove past the school on my way to youth group, I stopped off at Ray's residence on the boundary of school where he lived with his wife, Mam Suttle, who had been our English teacher.  It was late in the evening and getting dark. I dropped off the letter in his letter box and went on my way.

I forgot about it and 5 or more years went by.

Then one day I received a letter out of the blue.  I cannot remember how the letter got to me; maybe via my mum who bumped into Mam Suttle from time to time.  The letter was from Ray.

In the letter, Ray wrote something along the lines of "I remember that night so well, I heard a scurrying outside the door and went out to see someone disappearing off into the darkness. Then I found the letter.  I have to tell you, in all honesty, no letter has ever effected me more. It came at a time when I was feeling completely demotivated and flat in regards to my teaching profession.  I wondered if it was all worth it.  Your kind, heart-felt words meant everything to me.  They sank very deep. They gave me my mojo back.  They made all the difference in the world.  Thank you, thank you for your letter."

Reading these words moved me to tears. It was, and continues to be, my greatest teaching about the immense power of gratitude expressed from the heart. Inspired by this, I have written many more letters of gratitude over the years.  

Thank you, dear Mr Suttle, for yet another of your priceless lessons.