4 September 2024, Camberwell Grammar School, Melbourne, Australia
In preparing these reflections, a colleague said to me: 'Mase seemed to know everyone, and everyone knew Mase'.
That led me to recall a tale told by John Stafford, whose long life we celebrated recently. Staff loved this story, so as he is no longer here to tell it, shall narrate it in his memory.
Many years ago Staff was taking a Year 9 excursion to the Port of Melbourne. The plan was for the boys to board a cargo ship but this apparently was disallowed. Staff and his fellow teacher were immersed in discussion with the Port Authority while the boys were waiting, standing on the pier.
A boom came over their heads, Sitting on top of it was a wharfie (sporting a tattoo; something CGS boys would never have seen, as they were the precinct of seamen, wharfies and criminals which often constituted the same identity), singlet in the of colour blue, fag in the corner corner of his mouth. The boom stopped just over the boys' heads.
The wharfie called out, 'G'day boys. You're schoolboys aren't you? I was a schoolboy once. What youse doin' here?
The class nodded at this chap, a world away from Mont Albert Road Canterbury, One lad apparently explaining that they were schoolboys and apparently not allowed on the boat, and teacher was discussing matters with the captain of the cargo ship.
'School boys', mused the grarled figure on the beam. ‘I know a teacher. 'Funny bloke. Likes a sip or two. His name’s Mason. Do you know Mason.’
‘Sure’ replied a boy , ‘He's a teacher at our school'.
'Bloody hell! Mason!'
The Wharfie stood up on his boom and cried out, "Hey Captain. Let the kids on board or we're all out!'
What we all appreciate is that that tale could not be told of any person here... but no-one here would for a moment doubt the veracity of that story, or be surprised that its subject was that magnetic personality, lan Mason.
Only once, during his student years at CGS, did my son, Andrew, ask if I could place him in a particular class. Having had !an as his Year 10 English teacher, he asked if he could go into his class in Year 12.
'Why?' I asked.
'Well, Andrew replied, 'He'll make me work really hard with no excuses... and he's the funniest man I've ever met.'
These two qualities exemplified lan. With the minimum of fuss, no-one worked harder than lan —there at his table in the common room, later at his desk when we have had offices, by 7.20 each morning. School holidays didn’t exist for Ian. He was there every day – assiduously correcting student work, which was always returned for the next class, writing text studies, preparing exercises and tests, tabulating results, editing Spectemur and The Camberwell Grammarian. Yes he worked hard and demanded others, whether they be students or staff, to do the same.
Following Tony Brown, I was Head of English for 26 years. I simply could not have managed that unwavering task without the support of lan. The English classrooms in the M block are duly named in his honour.
Yet it wasn't simply work that made Ian such an important figure in the school. Once in my early years as a teacher I was struggling sa to know how best to maange a difficult situation. ‘Ask Mase’ advised a colleague. ‘He knows more about boys than anyone else here.’
As for 'the funniest man I've ever met'. Well, where does one start? At times one recalls almost incidental moments. While lan would not allow anyone other than his students to enter his classroom, I was able to sneak in occasionally. Some of you will remember, prior to the advent of photocopies we had a gestetnor machine, where one ran-off light yellow copies of faintly printed material which smelt of methylated spirits. I recall one occasion in my early years going into lan's classroom where the boys were busy doing a test.
One boy came out was a very faintly printed question paper and said, 'Mr. Mason, I'm having trouble reading this'.
'Well, replied, his teacher, with tongue-in-cheek, it is after all a comprehension test.'
We were teaching the Ancient Greek play Antigone, by Sophocles, I came into Ian’s classroom as he was giving the class a spelling test of Ancient Greek names. ‘Oedipus, Creon, Jocasta. Now the playwrights. Aristophanes, Aeschylus, Euripides, Sophocles, Ponyrides.’
'Excuse me Mr Mason', queried one perplexed student. ‘Who was Ponyrides?'
"Oh, hang on," said the teacher. I'm getting muddled. I looked at the
wrong list. These are the things I have to do with my daughter on the weekend, she likes horse riding. Pony Rides!’ Testing. Always testing, and creating hilarity in doing so. All of us here will have a catalogue of stories.
Together, lan and I were teachers of English at Camberwell Grammar School for 110 years. Hence I had the privilege of getting to know that veritable dynamo very well indeed. During that time he deeply enriched my life, as he did that of all present here this afternoon, together with thousands of students, staff and the extended family of Camberwell Grammar School and, yes, even the odd Wharfie.
Vale lan, dear friend.
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