I had some wonderful teachers and one of the best was Mr Wallace. Thanks to him my last year at primary school was probably the happiest of my school life and during my time in his class I actually looked forward to going to school.
Considering I had on occasion been dragged into school kicking and screaming, that’s saying something.
As a third year at primary school, I went on a camping trip to a dew soaked field in Danbury in Essex.
While there, we were introduced to Mr Wallace during a sing-song round the camp fire.
He was lovely – fun, funny, bearded (I’ve always liked men with beards) and as far as I recall he used to wear a lot of brown – brown trousers, brown check jackets. We were told at camp that year that he would be joining our school in the September and I was going to be in his class. Yay!
He had a large box full of pictures at the front of the class. We’d pick one out and write a story about it. He also had a box full of things to do – you’d stick in your hand and pull out a plum. One of my plums was to find out what I could about Socrates and write about him. Daft the things you remember isn’t it?
He used to encourage us to bring music in – I brought my mum’s Scheherazade LP in - and he’d play the music while we wrote whatever came into our minds. He was a great encourager of imagination and he had a wicked sense of humour.
Remembering him has reminded me about using music for inspiration. Try it. Close your eyes and let your imagination soar.