When I agreed to a guest post I have to admit to being a little, um … nervous, yes but also … um … “star-struck” is the wrong word … it’s just weird to think that someone who I’ve admired in terms of his ability to write about maths in such “readable” way, had agreed to write something for my little ‘ol blog .. ok so I’ll admit to being a teeny weeny bit envious of his writing ability. If you don’t know (and you should!!) Simon Singh’s book “The Simpsons and Their Mathematical Secrets“ has just been published in paperback (I have the hard back version, but I’m not showing off!?!) and it really is a great read that you can dip in and out of.

I was both honoured and humbled when asked and suggested that maybe he could write something about his recollections of a teacher that made a lasting impression on him. I am genuinely fascinated about the impact that we, as teachers can, and do have on our students. Do not underestimate how far what we do in the classroom tomorrow or the day after that, could reach … now that IS something to think about!

I went a to a grammar school in the 1970s. It was Wellington School in Somerset, not to be confused with the much more famous Wellington College in Berkshire. I only stress this because the writer Jeffery Archer went to my Wellington School, but occasionally he seems to have suggested that he went to the other Wellington College. I guess that explains why he writes fiction and I write non-fiction.

I suspect that we might have shared a maths teacher, namely Mr Ford, who taught me for one year before retiring. During those three terms he taught me how to use a slide rule and log tables, neither of which required batteries or spelt out BOOBIES when turned upside down.

My next maths teacher was Mr Stephens, who taught for the next seven years, right up to the final A Level Further Maths exam. Without doubt, he gave me the solid platform I needed for my physics degree and the PhD that followed. He delivered seven years of lessons that were a mix of playfulness, inspiration and of course, hard slog. One day he might be telling us about an irrelevant bit of maths, such as the 4-colour map problem, and the next day he might be chatting about his Master’s degree, which involved the magnificently named field of “magneto-hydrodynamics”. Either way, every day had its fair share of dense blackboards, scribbled transparencies and problem sheets.

I guess it is “par for the course” to single out an influential teacher, but in my case I think equal credit goes to the curriculum that we followed, coupled with the difficulty of the exams that we had to face. Naturally, a rigorous, deep and fairly dry curriculum is not for everyone, but it turned at least seven of us into dedicated nerds, and gave us all a decent chance of building successful careers after applying for a range of geeky degrees. 

Sadly, while today’s curriculum may work for the majority of students, my fear is that it fails to satisfy the most able mathematicians. Whenever I discuss this with teachers, the number of nodding heads implies that I am close to the truth.

By the time I left Wellington School, my brain hurt, thanks to Mr Stephens and his Further Maths. I appreciate his major migraine maths now, and I even enjoyed it at the time. With more money, more resources and more terrific online opportunities, it seems absurd that twenty-first century British geeks are not suffering nearly as much brain ache as their 1970s ancestors. There has rightly been a great deal of effort in recent decades to support and encourage the middling and struggling maths students, but it is now time make sure that schools also stretch the best.

Reading this has made me reflect on my reasons for changing career to become a teacher as they seem to have gotten mislaid amidst the daily grind and it’s good to be reminded. Thank you Simon.