Goodbye, Mr. Crane
By chance I recently read a short novel by James Hilton, ‘Goodbye Mr. Chips’. I had promised to do this in my retirement as it had always intrigued me since the author once lived in my home town.
What struck me most about this study of a dedicated teacher at a Victorian and Edwardian rural English public school was the likeness, in so many ways, of Chipping, to give him his full name, to Harry Crane who spent his working life in a state school on the edge of the City of London.
Here were teachers who gave most of their working life to one school and its pupils. Brookfield was Chips’ domain as Daneford was Harry’s. To many Brookfield meant Mr.Chips and Daneford meant Mr. Crane. These places had been their life. Both were kind and gentle men at perfect peace with life. As traditional as a Stanley Holloway monologue.
They both shared an abiding interest in cricket. They saw generations of the same family pass through their school. Harry used to say that it was time to retire when you’d taught the grandchildren of these East End dynasties. Harry was a lifetime Arsenal and, of course, Frobisher fan.
Both knew their pupils, displayed an astounding memory and had an encyclopaedic knowledge of their students when they were in the school and beyond. They were both born in eventful years, Chips in 1848 and Harry, so he led us to believe, in 1929 – he revelled in the coincidence with the Wall Street Crash whenever the opportunity arose, in a Commerce lesson. Harry would have hinted at today’s date with some kind humorous comment and laughed uproariously.
One of Harry’s many gifts was being able to address a group of students and keep them riveted with his anecdotes, jokes and puns. This applied both to History lessons and assemblies. Over years, my colleagues and I listened to the tireless tales of Hobson’s Choice, the origin of the phrase ‘Cock & Bull Story’ and a particularly absurd one about sticking a postage stamp on the ceiling.
David Part
David Part
29/03/2015
