In my last blogpost I tried to illustrate how the mention of death is so unwelcome as to instantly unsettle the equilibrium of human interaction. The very whiff of it produces a primal gut reaction with which the rational mind struggles to cope. This week I again want to reach into my past to prove the point.
Mr Ostler was a teacher whom we 13/14 -year-olds heartily despised. He wasn't fair. He enjoyed meting out punishment too much. He took no trouble to disguise the fact that he had the lowest opinion of us, and that is hardly the way to win friends and influence teenagers, now, is it!
So why was he like that? Hard to say. Maybe it had something to do with him being five foot nothing and feeling intimidated by us towering over him. Or that his wife left him for a younger man. Or that he boasted about his connections in high places.....he had a photo of himself with the prime minister. What's so great about that? All you have to do is turn up at the opening of a new supermarket while the future PM is still an MP. There will be no minders around. Simply slip to the front, get next to the guy, and have a friend quickly snap you and voila.....but I digress!
Mr Ostler had a 4 inch long wooden rod that he held hidden in his fist. If there was a group of maybe four or five of us standing chatting in the playing field, this man would spring from nowhere, and, keeping his hand at waist height, he would prod us painfully, saying, "break it up. I know what you are up to. Enough of your bad mouthing (jab to the left) your teachers (jab to the right). You think you're great because your parents are important people (jab! jab!). Let me tell you, you're nothing here. Nothing!"
It hurt like heck. It was all we could do not to take a swing at him. But I think the unfairness of it all hurt even more. Bloodshot eyes. Spittle flying. Hoarse throated through constant shouting. Red faced and overweight. A truly disgusting spectacle. Funny thing is, the headmaster thought Mr Ostler was very good at his job. That it was he who single-handedly maintained iron discipline in an all boys school.
Okay, imagine the worst sergeant major you have ever seen caricatured, bullying and tormenting the new recruits, and you'll be looking at what Mr Ostler was all about.
His detentions were legendary, lasting 2 to 3 hours after school. Well, he had no home life so what did he care about getting home to chill out! And the creepy lectures he'd give us during those detentions, about foul thoughts, self abuse and its catastrophic physical consequences (all medically untrue--- what an ignorant man!), cold showers, the depravity of modern society, the obscene media imagery--- well, he more or less hated the whole world, this sad man did, and we had to sit and listen to him.
As they say, what goes around, comes around. Sooner or later, if you tempt fate for long enough, it catches up with you to level the score. And so it happened with Mr Ostler. Quite dramatically and very suddenly.
One morning the bell rang and we made our way into the hall for assembly. At once many of us detected a frisson of unrest among our teachers. Something had happened, but what was it? We did not have long to find out. A grim faced headmaster mounted the dais and collected his weighty thoughts as he adjusted the microphone over the lectern.
"This morning.....ahem....I have just received a phone call with some very sad news indeed. I am very sorry to inform you all that Mr Ostler passed away in the early hours, of a sudden heart attack whilst at home. This has come as a great shock to us all. He was a much valued and admired member of our staff and will be sadly missed.......(no there were no sniggers or smothered smiles from any of us. We, too, were shocked by the suddenness of it. Besides, we were far more decent guys than Mr Ostler had ever given us credit for being)......so, before we go any further, I would like you all to bow your heads and join me in prayer for our dear departed Mr Ostler........”
A collective rustle all around the hall as we composed ourselves, hands crossed in front, heads down, still taking in the news. Complete silence.......but not for long!
A plaintive cry at the main doorway. Heads jerking up, swinging around, everyone's eyes popping with disbelief. "I tell you, I'm here. I'm alive. I'm not dead. I never was dead," shrieked Mr Ostler in frustration as his squat figure stood there, silhouetted in the doorway against the clean morning sunlight.......and suddenly a rumble started from one end of the hall and swept, like an ocean wave, right across the expanse of the entire assembly. Laughter. Wave after wave of it. A nervous release from the tension? The ridiculous sight of Mr Ostler protesting his claim to life? Whatever it was, it rocked that assembly hall for a good few minutes while the headmaster, looking baffled and very displeased, made his way to the back of the hall, took Mr Ostler's arm firmly, and led him away to his office. The deputy head took his place and dismissed us as quickly as he could. Everyone seemed keen to be gone from the hall. That scene. The unpleasantness of death. The complete humiliation of Mr Ostler.
Well, despite extensive investigation no one ever found out which of us boys had, at dawn, crept into Mr Ostler's front garden and slashed the tires of his moped. Just as no one found out who had telephoned the school to say they were a member of Mr Ostler's family and had some very bad news. And Mr Ostler was late to school because he thought it wouldn't matter just this once, seeing as he wasn't familiar with bus timetables.
And now here's the really strange bit.
The whole affair seemed to affect Mr Ostler in some very profound way. Don't ask me what went on in his tiny mind. I don't know, and I doubt anyone else did. But he changed. He left us more or less alone, unless we had really done something bad. He became comparatively subdued. Frequently withdrawn. Diminished in some subtle aspect. He also became very religious, and started spending all his spare time doing good works for the church instead of haranguing us during detention--- which was fine by us. Yes, it could be said that death had a sobering effect on Mr Ostler.
As time went by, our attitude changed. Some of us even got to like him. After all, he had proved that he was human like all the rest of us. Death had seen to that!
websites: