This is a classical tale of serendipity, and has little to do with declensions, the dative case, conjugating verbs, exploring Latin roots, or even reciting ditties with vague Latin connotations, like 'Amo, amas, I loved a lass...' In short, it was the result of a totally unplanned and unforeseen interaction involving three rather eccentric and out-of-the-usual characters.
As recorded elsewhere on this site, my primary school days were an unmitigated disaster, but the saving grace was that in my final year at George Watson's College in Edinburgh, I was introduced to Latin (as indeed were all pupils, regardless of their grade, in final year of Junior School).
Our Latin master was something of a legend at Watson's, the eccentric 'Sandy Mac' (Alexander MacKenzie), who was a renowned crossword compiler for 'The Scotsman' newspaper. To me at age 11, Mr Mackenzie was a very old man. He had a square, lined face, a high brow accentuated by the fact that he combed his silver hair straight back. He was also a heavy drinker, probably an alcoholic, and a heavy smoker, because there was always the scent of whisky and tobacco about his person. He never seemed to learn any boy's name but would refer to each of us as 'Boy,' his stock-in-trade question always began, 'Well, boy' (with the 'e' vowel elongated so that the 'well' was always drawn out... 'Weeeell, boy?).
My father, a pharmacist, had a passing interest in classical languages given that he had had to learn the meaning of pharmaceutical components. When it was clear that, as with the rest of my studies, I was not applying myself to this new academic challenge, my father arranged for the assistant Church of Scotland minister in our parish to tutor me in Latin. He was a young man, straight out of the University of Edinburgh's New College, the faculty of divinity, and somewhat awkward and not very popular in the parish. It didn't help that he was rather short and tubby, with a very round face, piggy eyes, red shiny cheeks, with a dark, almost black, permanent '5 o'clock shadow' on his jowls; and worst of all, he suffered from halitosis and the corners of his mouth constantly showed a string or two of thick saliva appended to top and bottom lips. I think he jumped at the opportunity to tutor me, not for any extra money he might earn, but because it enabled him to 'interact' with a family in a situation, where unfortunately he was both shunned by many and regarded by most as a figure of fun.
The one-on-one tutoring forced me to start to learn my Latin declensions and conjugations and build up a reasonable vocabulary. My earnest but foul-breathed churchman-tutor used his own copy of Kennedy's Revised Latin Primer to guide me through - and eventually gifted it to me when he felt I had gained a certain competence in the language - and I have retained in my possession to this day: a kind of talisman of a book (and learning experience) that probably changed my life.
The result of the tutoring was that I began to do rather well in Latin, something that must have registered with Sandy Mac, not that he made it clear to this particular 'Boy.' However, when I came to leave Watson's at the end of that year (see From primary school 'hell' to high school 'heaven'), Mr Mackenzie sought me out and told me that he was very disappointed that I was leaving as he thought I had the 'makings' of a good Classics scholar. It was the first compliment ever paid to me by a teacher.
The final part of the 'triumvirate' (to use an expression from the one part of my 'Latin' studies that I really enjoyed, learning about ancient Roman history) was Dr George McCowan, the principal of Dalkeith High School. Dr McCowan was a much respected but greatly feared headmaster, often referred to as 'the beak.' He stood erect, with a craggy weathered face and piercing gimlet eyes, his head topped by short tufts of grey hair, not quite a 'crew cut' but very short. If one word summed up his appearance and bearing, it would be 'grim.' And the one word to describe his reputation had to be 'fearsome.'
He was an old fashioned socialist and a card carrying member of the Labour Party. In fact, in those days, you had to be Labour to gain a headship, primary of secondary, in Midlothian with its Labour controlled County Council dominated by the National Union of Mineworkers. He had a loathing for anything that smacked of privilege, including private schools, something that worked in my favour when I fronted on day one for an interview with Dr McCowan.
My mother had given me my George Watson's College report cards to present at interview, something she felt sure the headmaster would wish to peruse. I was dreading that part of the interview as my grades were awful and the teachers' comments, including those from the head teacher, Mr Rattray, were worse. Comments like, 'lazy'; 'does not apply himself'; 'insolent' did not read well and I was ashamed at the thought that the headmaster of my new school would read these appraisals.
However, when I told Dr McCowan that I had school reports from Watson's, he scowled and told me he had no interest in reading them, my relief was almost palpable. Instead, he asked me what subject I liked best. Given my recent success in Sandy Mac's class, I replied, quite truthfully, 'Latin.' As a result, Dr McCowan assigned me immediately to 1A, the top first year form. Without my Latin, I would possibly have ended up in 1C or even the lowest form, 1E, and almost certainly have been destined to leave school at 15 - perhaps to take up an apprenticeship in a kitchen, destined to be a chef (something my father had mentioned as a career unless I improved my grades).
Being assigned to 1A did not guarantee being in the top academic stream for the rest of the year: there was a sifting out process in the tests at the end of first term. Once again, the saving grace was Latin. Given that everyone else in the class was being introduced to Latin, whereas for me it was 'revision,' I topped the class - well, I was first equal with about four others - and my place in 1A was secured. Even at year's end, I was still one of the best performers and so I 'sailed' into 2A. However, in truth, I then suffered a slow decline in Latin performance to the point where, although I passed my 'Lower' Leaving Certificate or 'O' level Latin, I failed my 'Higher' Latin. However, by then my school days were over and I had qualified for university entrance.
The final part of the 'triumvirate' (to use an expression from the one part of my 'Latin' studies that I really enjoyed, learning about ancient Roman history) was Dr George McCowan, the principal of Dalkeith High School. Dr McCowan was a much respected but greatly feared headmaster, often referred to as 'the beak.' He stood erect, with a craggy weathered face and piercing gimlet eyes, his head topped by short tufts of grey hair, not quite a 'crew cut' but very short. If one word summed up his appearance and bearing, it would be 'grim.' And the one word to describe his reputation had to be 'fearsome.'
He was an old fashioned socialist and a card carrying member of the Labour Party. In fact, in those days, you had to be Labour to gain a headship, primary of secondary, in Midlothian with its Labour controlled County Council dominated by the National Union of Mineworkers. He had a loathing for anything that smacked of privilege, including private schools, something that worked in my favour when I fronted on day one for an interview with Dr McCowan.
My mother had given me my George Watson's College report cards to present at interview, something she felt sure the headmaster would wish to peruse. I was dreading that part of the interview as my grades were awful and the teachers' comments, including those from the head teacher, Mr Rattray, were worse. Comments like, 'lazy'; 'does not apply himself'; 'insolent' did not read well and I was ashamed at the thought that the headmaster of my new school would read these appraisals.
However, when I told Dr McCowan that I had school reports from Watson's, he scowled and told me he had no interest in reading them, my relief was almost palpable. Instead, he asked me what subject I liked best. Given my recent success in Sandy Mac's class, I replied, quite truthfully, 'Latin.' As a result, Dr McCowan assigned me immediately to 1A, the top first year form. Without my Latin, I would possibly have ended up in 1C or even the lowest form, 1E, and almost certainly have been destined to leave school at 15 - perhaps to take up an apprenticeship in a kitchen, destined to be a chef (something my father had mentioned as a career unless I improved my grades).
Being assigned to 1A did not guarantee being in the top academic stream for the rest of the year: there was a sifting out process in the tests at the end of first term. Once again, the saving grace was Latin. Given that everyone else in the class was being introduced to Latin, whereas for me it was 'revision,' I topped the class - well, I was first equal with about four others - and my place in 1A was secured. Even at year's end, I was still one of the best performers and so I 'sailed' into 2A. However, in truth, I then suffered a slow decline in Latin performance to the point where, although I passed my 'Lower' Leaving Certificate or 'O' level Latin, I failed my 'Higher' Latin. However, by then my school days were over and I had qualified for university entrance.
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