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THE ALLEYNIAN 709
VALETE
Italy and of all things Italian. Colleagues have remarked on the way in which her enthusiasm for her subject converted even the most sceptical of boys, whose eyes opened wide at the wonders of the Uffizi, the Accademia and the Bargello. She has a gift for bringing these experiences to life and for creating lifelong Italophiles out of London boys. How lucky were those in her charge who were infected by her enthusiasm, many of them going on to study Italian and/or History of Art. What a pleasure for those accompanying to see the pupils falling under the spell of Italy as the weeks progressed. The regular daily visits to the ice cream shops (sometimes twice daily!) and the usually carefully planned visits to eateries which highlighted the best of Florentine food also helped the process along – being the mother of teenage boys (both possessed of hearty appetites), she always made sure that there was more than enough food to keep College boys happy. Of course, trips to Italy were not all about high culture, participants could rest assured Mrs Briggs would stoically attend a Torino football match in freezing conditions as long as she could be assured of a good meal afterwards. What is more, her characteristic calmness under pressure was in evidence when a tour bus broke down and a school group needed sweet- talking through Italian airport security with minutes to spare. The boys and the accompanying staff will be forever grateful for Jane’s enthusiasm and knowledge in helping all to discover that extraordinary culture. Just what a great teacher should be doing!
Those of us he trained as teachers will recognise here what David calls ‘the knowledge grenade’. Its controlled explosion is a key tactic in his educational strategy. This, in turn, is rooted in an intuitive sense of how the teenage brain is ticking, and what concepts or details aren’t clicking or sticking; to this is married a patience in pedagogy and a lucidity of explication that bring out of boys a depth and precision of understanding they didn’t know they had, and a sense of confidence in their own abilities to which they might never have otherwise aspired. Then – to whet the appetite for further intellectual endeavour (and remind them of their mortality) – he detonates. The technique works: boys excel academically under his tuition, and routinely describe him as the best teacher they ever had – the one who best equipped them to think for themselves. ‘He was’, one writes, ‘ insane. ’ (I checked to confirm that he meant that in the fifth sense given by UrbanDictionary.com – ‘adj. very, very, very talented’ – and not in any of the accepted meanings provided by the OED.) His gifts are administrative as well as pedagogical. Much like Stanley Baldwin was the last person concurrently to serve as Prime Minister and Chancellor of the Exchequer, David headed Great Offices of State on the top floor of the South Block that have subsequently been sundered. But there the comparisons end: ‘Safety First’ was not the Flower manifesto. An eerily well-organised man – survey the logical tidiness of his desktop folders and weep – he certainly brought a sense of calm order to a department charged with a kind of chaotic energy. But if he is skilled at ‘under the bonnet’ work, it would be very wrong to see this as in some way disconnected from
what George HW Bush called ‘the vision thing’. The building up of departmental resources is inextricably tied to curriculum reform, and timetable tweaking to interdisciplinarity (witness the success of the A level plus programme, which he did so much to bring into being); the granular surveillance of boys’ attainment is fundamental to whole-College progress; and the smooth rolling out of Surface devices to staff is a prerequisite to new modes of learning in a digital age. Whether as a head of department, or as line-manager and mentor to heads of department, with oversight of many aspects of whole-College academic life, David showed both a punctilious attention to detail and a real imaginative ambition. It is little surprise that he leaves us to become Deputy Head Academic at St Edward’s, Oxford, as it embarks on an exciting programme of strategic reform. With typical modesty, David won’t be drawn on what he considers his achievements; the historian in him sees that these are for others to judge. But they do judge – and praise. Two motifs emerge. They praise his personal as much as his professional precision: the sharpness of his hockey umpiring; the dry barb of his wit; the dead-eyed, shuddering deliveries in the Alexanderplatz Megabowl, as year after year of Upper School historians were ruthlessly dispatched in the Staff v Boys Berlin bowling competition. And they praise, too, the breadth of his humanity: his integrity as a colleague; his generosity as a counsellor; his wisdom as a boss; his loyalty as a friend. He is a great loss to the College; we will miss him dearly. David, Emma, Sophie and Anna: we wish you every success on this new adventure on the banks of the Isis. In David Copperfield , Dickens’ eponymous hero writes, ‘everything I have devoted myself to, I have devoted myself to completely’. Rory Bryant, who leaves Dulwich after 11 years in the English Department, could justifiably look back at his time here with the same sentiment. Not only has the English Department benefited immeasurably from his extraordinary commitment – his academic rigour, his unfailing good humour – but also the College as a whole has gained from his pioneering work on the EPQ programme and contribution to everything from Liberal Studies to rowing to assembly hymn-singing (the last always performed with impressive melodious skill – and power). All have been marked by Rory’s selfless hard work and devotion. Applying to Dulwich to escape advertising, Rory taught his first-ever lesson at interview – but the talent that would make him one of the most rigorous and successful practitioners in the department was already there, with his choice of Craig Raine’s ‘A Martian Sends a Postcard Home’ allowing him to engage the class with the granularity (a key Bryant word) of language that so appeals to him. In post, he rapidly began producing the high-quality teaching resources for which he would become known within the department, often confessing that he had spent far too long on Google looking for just the right cover image. Attention to detail lies at the heart of
WHAT A PLEASURE FOR THOSE ACCOMPANYING TO SEE THE PUPILS FALLING UNDER THE SPELL OF ITALY AS THE WEEKS PROGRESSED
Naturally, we remember Jane not merely as a co-worker, but as a great and loyal friend. We wish her, husband Dom and sons Henry and Olly, both now young men about town (but both still eating heartily), all the very best for the future. A great many of us have passed wonderful times in Casa Briggs in Le Marche, to which Dom and Jane will soon move permanently and where all doubtless hope to enjoy that tremendous hospitality once more. The College certainly won’t be the same without her.
Colm Ó Siochrú DAVID FLOWER
RORY BRYANT
Rory Fisher
David– sometime Head of History and Politics, latterly Director of Studies – came to Dulwich College after four years at City of London School. Before that, he had trained with Teach First at Selsdon High, where he taught Wilfried Zaha everything he knows about the intergovernmental structures of the League of Nations. Indeed, it was probably this, in an immediate sense, rather than his nuanced understanding of Peelite economic policy, that gained David ‘street cred’ amongst those discerning youths who sit at our feet to soak up godliness and good learning. But a reputation is built and maintained on foundations more secure than anecdotage about Crystal Palace’s twelfth highest goalscorer: David’s derived from his undoubted gifts
in the classroom. He is, as students past and present attest, an exceptional teacher. His breadth of interests – from Anglo- Saxon annals to the political thought of Malcolm X – captured their imaginations. On topics ranging from Victorian railway engineering to post-war psephology – and almost anything else, as the hockey team discovered on their Malaysian trip, when he usurped their appointed tour guide to offer a lecture on the urban history of Melaka – he possesses a depth of expertise that is, frankly, unnerving. (Colleagues who have witnessed him close his eyes to operationalise this weirdly retentive memory will sympathise: how, asks one, does he remember that the Herne pub has a south west-facing garden? Or that once you get past Exeter there’s that 50-mile stretch of electrified track?)
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