As they neared the school, more and more children joined the mass, converging on the playground like an army of ants homing in on a lump of sugar. Over four hundred students attended The Protestant Commissioners’ School. The younger ones shrieked at each other in rambunctious play, while the older ones huddled in serious conversation. Curious about the coming day, they debated various options, hoping the school might grant them a few days of freedom. Just their own wishful thinking, for the board acted quickly to shift responsibilities, and assigned another teacher to cover Master Barwick’s classes until they named a replacement.
Jamie found his brother in the yard, “Georgie! Over here.” His brother caught his eye and sped over.
“Morning Jamie. I heard you were in the class when Master Barwick kicked the bucket.”
Georgie, don’t talk like that. It was awful to watch. Think about his family, won’t you?”
His brother shrugged his shoulders.
“Mary, invited us to lunch on Sunday. She will try to get Pa to come, too.” Jamie said.
“Good luck to her,” Georgie responded.
Jamie reached out and placed his hand on Georgie’s shoulder. “She’ll do her best.” Poor fella. He never really got much chance to get to know Pa like I did. He’s closer to Uncle Adam now.
The school bell interrupted their conversation and called the students into the building. The warmer air was welcome as the wet outer clothing found places on the hooks. The smell of damp wool permeated the hall.
The older boys settled in record time, eager to learn who would be their new teacher.
Chairs scraped and book-bag buckles clinked as the associate Master entered the classroom. A wooden pointer rapped against the desk. “Gentlemen, may I have your attention please.” The teacher surveyed the room to make eye contact with each student. “The tragic events of yesterday are most regrettable. Do not worry. This situation will not interrupt your education. Master Barwick would expect us to carry on. I count on you to do him proud. I will lead your instruction until we find a suitable replacement. This should occur in the next few weeks. Today, I would like each of you to write an essay about the impact Master Barwick had in your education.”
Papers and books rustled in a strange acoustical orchestration. Jamie’s thoughts returned to Master Barwick’s words, “…patience and rhythm creates even and steady shapes.” How is it possible? He was standing at the front of the class yesterday morning, and now he will never do that again.
Jamie hovered his pen over the page. Where to begin. He could hardly count the ways Master Barwick influenced his life. Some things he felt were private, and he did not care to expose them to anyone else. He always felt safe with his teacher; to express his love of music when others considered the love of arts to be unmanly. Master Barwick was kind and patient, but he also demanded the boys push themselves and give their best effort. Jamie realized how much his teacher helped him grow.
He dipped the nib into his inkwell and began.
Master Barwick was a smart…. Jamie stopped, no, use a stronger word, Jamie. He continued… an intelligent… yes, that’s better, he thought … and demanding teacher. He encouraged his students to do their very best. His vast knowledge in many subjects provided a sound foundation to our lessons. In particular, he was well versed in the art of music. I learned many skills needed to make my life successful. Master Barwick made us practise exercises until we understood how to repeat tasks without his supervision. I will always remember him.
Jamie paused. He held the nib on the blotter while he re-read his draft. He dipped the nib once again and scratched out some weak words as he remembered Master Barwick’s insistent refrain. “Look for powerful words to describe your scenes.” Once he had revised his piece several times, he selected a fresh page to write his clean copy. The entire process took the students to the end of the morning session.
After lunch, the teacher addressed the class. “Boys, they have announced the details of the service for Master Barwick. This Friday, January 11th, at Christ Church Cathedral, they will conduct his funeral. We will cancel all classes to allow those who wish to attend to pay their respects. We suggest you consider this token gesture as a way to demonstrate a high regard of Master Barwick. You boys are on the cusp of manhood, and a gentleman would conduct himself thus.”
Three years seemed so long ago to Jamie, but he still remembered the sombre scene of his mother’s funeral. He had admired Master Barwick and felt honoured to know him; but did he think he could face seeing the grief of his teacher’s family? Jamie wondered, can I attend?
On Friday morning, Jamie looked at himself with a critical eye after he splashed water on his face. He combed his hair taking care to draw a clean line on the right side, then he smoothed the strands down towards his collar. As he reached for his Sunday-best clothes, he thought. Yes, I can do this. I will show my respect to the Barwick family. It is the very least I can do.
Family Profiles 