My Teacher is My Hero

The modest and unassuming Fr. F. Reynolds, SJ was probably the antithesis of a Superhero. However, with the unerring and infallible benefit of 20-20 hindsight, I realised very soon after leaving University and entering the "real world" just how significant a part he played in my educational development.

I had received a good all-round education at another Jesuit-run educational establishment, a Liverpool grammar school where languages were high on the priorities list – to the extent that there were NO British-born foreign language teachers on the staff at the time! It was school policy to have ALL foreign languages taught by native teachers – even Latin was taught by teachers born in Italy (and the same rule applied to Classical Greek). My love of languages (and a certain degree of competence) undoubtedly stems from the time I spent at this school, but it wasn't until I left there with a fistful of "A" grades that language studies really became central in my life. My one regret is the fact that "Career Guidance" was still untested territory in Liverpool schools at the time. Mine consisted of (probably) less than a minute in the Head master's Office, and went roughly as follows:

"McDermott? Let's see, now …. All-round flair for languages: teaching's the job for you! Close the door on your way out and send in the next boy …."

At the time, university places were won on merit. This was before GCEs were given away to anyone who collected a sufficient number of cereal box tops, and Masters degrees in tat-ology became 'legitimate' curriculum subjects  ……

I quickly realised how privileged I was to be allotted a place in Fr. Reynolds' tutorial group: I was one of about a dozen students from each year group who were lucky enough to "shoot the parrot" and reaped a reward amounting to untold riches.

The tutorial room spoke volumes about the man. It consisted of a desk, a window ….. and wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling bookcases. Approximately a dozen straight, hardback chairs (no padding) had been added, it seemed almost as an afterthought, for students to sit on.

The desk was always Spartan, uncluttered, well organised. In the four years I studied under him, I never once saw him refer to a note or reference book of any sort during a tutorial. He spoke fluently and at length on whatever the topic of the day might be, never pausing, contradicting himself or repeating anything (unless we asked for further explanation, of course!). Every word was worth its weight in gold, as we discovered when we eventually sailed through our finals, and some form of shorthand system was absolutely essential for taking notes during seminars.

The books on the shelves were another indication of the man. Every single one bore unmistakeable signs of having been used frequently, as one would expect of any set of reference books. Every MAJOR language was represented, and the subjects ranged far and wide, not limited by his own specialist field of English Literature.

He never spoke of his own achievements, and it was purely by chance  I discovered (several years later) that he, along with Msgr. Doyle [another SJ at the University of Liverpool] were more or less single-handedly responsible for the English language version of the Jerusalem Bible.

Nothing ever seemed to faze Fr. Reynolds, or take him by surprise. My first recollection of his approach to languages was hearing him read extracts from "Beowulf" for us – in what he assured us was what the original Anglo-Saxon would have sounded like. Such was his skill as a teacher, we all found him easy to understand, and followed the story (in translated "modern" English!) without difficulty. This was the first of many 'object lessons' learnt at the feet of the Great Man about how to look "beyond the framework" of a language and follow it back to its earliest roots. And who else could possibly have persuaded a disparate group of the "Flower Power" generation to form a 'Conversational Latin Club'? For the record this select group, more often than not, had a "waiting list" of undergraduates keen and eager to be admitted to its ranks …….. !

Students from beyond the UK (and what remained of the 'pink bits of the map') were just beginning to arrive in Britain  seeking University places at the time. Fr. Reynolds was the natural 'in house' interpreter/go-between/counsellor and advisor whenever there was a problem to be addressed. To my knowledge he never asked for or received any extra financial remuneration for turning his hand to such matters. In all honesty, I doubt he would ever have contemplated asking for it, such was his instinctive and genuine love of languages.

An example which is still crystal clear in my mind. One sunny summer afternoon, while discussing Shakespeare, we were disturbed by an urgent knocking. Fr. Reynolds indicated that the student nearest the door should open it: he was enthroned as far away as it was possible to be, within the confines of a standard Uni seminar room.

An Irish student needed an urgent, personal word with Fr. Reynolds, who was unable to pass us in order to leave the room …….. so for the next five minutes, they carried out a private, personal conversation, over our heads, in Gælic. Problem solved ………

If I needed any further incentive to work on my knowledge of languages, this small incident was the definitive moment when the decision was made. Over the years I've taught myself enough of a range of languages to be able to 'sit in' as interpreter on oil rig installations, mediating between American bosses (some of whom can barely speak English), Danish riggers, German engineers, Norwegian data specialists and French scientists. I've taught in International Schools both in the UK and in Europe, and found it useful on occasion when my wife and I want to hold a private conversation on a crowded London tube train, or discuss arrangements for a party in front of our children without spoiling the surprise …….

Years ago, when I first met the person who was to become my father-in-law, I had cause to be thankful once more for the love of languages instilled in me by the saintly, patient Fr. Reynolds. In 1970 there was no way I could have foreseen the usefulness of Conversational Latin: but in 1982 I spoke no Swedish and Erik spoke no English …..

That Christmas and New Year, we were both eternally grateful we'd attended similar grammar schools, where Latin was taught ………. !