DGE TODD Mr Todd, maths teacher, was not Einstein, as I will readily attest. But then who is? He had his limitations, but then his remit as a secondary school maths teacher suggested that he must, as is true of any such school teacher. For those of us who have outgrown the friendly confines of those grey walls and whose life experiences have allowed perspective, there is that singular appreciation of the dedicated individual for whom teaching was a passion - not simply a profession. I reflect with some sadness on my recent knowledge of the passing of this man, the village schoolmaster whose likeness rebounds in Goldmsith's verse. His classes were interspersed with formulaic learning, grim appreciation and ribald interludes of binary codes in bowel movement. There were no flexed heads and yawning mouths; attention was absolute or else the duster -  a projectile reminder, although rare it was that this was one that had to fly. He could hold a class, hold forth, and never hold a grudge. He taught all he knew, in the best he knew. Mr Todd had a great fondness for form and presentation. His term papers, hand written and meticulous, demanded performance yet forgave in the spirit of the 40% pass mark. The genius and the idiot,the trying and the crying, the whingers and the cringers, all submitted to the xeroxed magnificience of a DGE Todd paper. These were lovingly crafted artefacts, not simply a means to the ICSE csore sheets. Mr Todd liked his music, 60s rock and renaissance; liked his toddy, Sikkim Gold and local chhang and most of all, liked his smokes - Charminar or was it Wills? He was  a character in the old mould who lives on still, in my memories of dusty classrooms, moths and sparrows, monsoon storms and mountain mists - my maths teacher. By : T Lama         Graduated : 1981 Date : 2/12/2004 18:14