Goodbye, Stan

Once upon a time there was a teacher.

He was one of a rare tribe - the secondary school teacher who doesn't blend into the generic memory bank of "high school", in which the names and faces of teachers morph into a blurred composite after a few years.

No, this man was such an inspirational teacher, so clearly passionate about his subject area and his students, that he was loved by many. And forgotten by few.

When he was one of my supervising teachers on my final teaching round, he was the reason I chose to teach secondary school Biology, rather than primary school. Sitting in his classroom, watching him interact with his students, I wanted to be like him. Kind but firm, interested and interesting.

I was lucky enough to become one of his colleagues the next year, when I began my teaching career. At that time, the Science faculty was made up of a group of friends who truly enjoyed teaching together. The fact that they socialised and surfed together was testament to their friendship. I gained so much from being taken into this group. I will always be grateful.

Even when he moved away from the classroom to take on more senior roles in the school, he was still popular. Students would wait outside his office, trembling at the thought of the shouty discipline sure to come their way. In this man's office, no shouting ever occurred. Instead, he would calmly talk to them about their misdemeanours, and encourage them to make better choices.

This teacher had a huge, ready smile, and an easy laugh. As serious as he often needed to be in his administrative role, the grin was never far away. In his company, you could be guaranteed a joke, or a funny comment, or even just a friendly exchange.

His love of the ocean was well-known. I'm fairly certain that in a perfect world, he would have found the time to surf every day.

He was a devoted and loving father to three lovely kids, and an affectionate and proud husband. I had the pleasure of working with both him and his wife for a few years, and it was always clear how much they loved each other. It was obvious that his family was his world. As they should be.

Yesterday, Christian and I heard that he had lost his battle with stomach cancer. We had known he was ill; we had heard recently that he had taken a turn for the worse. Even still, it was like a blow to the torso. That this kind, clever, funny, inspirational man, a father, husband, friend, teacher and colleague, could be gone, is so unfair that even now I can't quite process it.

It seems unfathomable to me that he is gone. That never again will I hear his easy laugh, and enjoy his company.

I am grateful for having known him. For having heard his advice for dealing with tricky students; for having been infected with his passion for teaching; for having the honour of teaching his eldest son. Most of all, I am grateful for his friendship. And I can only hope that he is now at peace, buoyed on a cloud made of the love and gratitude of the thousands of students, colleagues and friends who are the richer for having him in their lives.

Goodbye, Stan. We'll miss you.