Ah, Miss Macaulay, our English teacher
I don’t know why she never married. We had lots of spinster teachers of her generation in our school. Maybe the lost their fiancés and boyfriends in the war?
Any way, she was a funny old stick.
A terrible snob and very starstruck. We had lots of minor celebrities kids at our school and she was all over them like a rash!
And she was a prude. If we were reading out loud and there was a rude bit, she always read it herself leaving out the dirty words. So that famous line from Romeo and Juliet came out as:
Romeo, that she were, O, that she were
An open- ETC or thou a popp’rin pear!
And she had no time for anyone who wasn’t bright or didn’t understand, she wasn’t a natural teacher, really
But boy, did she love and understand literature and her stuff
And somehow, lord knows how, she managed to get that through to the mouthy, stroppy, hormonal, know-it-all teenager that was me
She opened my mind to Shakespeare, poetry drama and literature and gave me access to a lifetime of pleasure and delight and learning.
It’s been so much part of me that I honestly don’t think I’d be the same person today if I hadn’t had her as a teacher
I read that she only died in 2015, at the age of 99, and after retiring from school teaching she was an Open University tutor for many years. She would have been good at that
My best memory of her is her reading us this Thomas Hardy poem and being so moved by it she cried. Some of the class laughed and wow did she put them round the corner!
I went by the Druid stone
That broods in the garden white and lone,
And I stopped and looked at the shifting shadows
That at some moments fall thereon
From the tree hard by with a rhythmic swing,
And they shaped in my imagining
To the shade that a well-known head and shoulders
Threw there when she was gardening.
I thought her behind my back,
Yea, her I long had learned to lack,
And I said: ‘I am sure you are standing behind me,
Though how do you get into this old track?’
And there was no sound but the fall of a leaf
As a sad response; and to keep down grief
I would not turn my head to discover
That there was nothing in my belief.
Yet I wanted to look and see
That nobody stood at the back of me;
But I thought once more: ‘Nay, I’ll not unvision
A shape which, somehow, there may be.’
So I went on softly from the glade,
And left her behind me throwing her shade,
As she were indeed an apparition—
My head unturned lest my dream should fade.