In Memory Of: Jock Dickson

I learned this evening that Jock Dickson had passed away. I know that many other Maru-a-Pula alumni were affected by his teaching and I wanted to share my thoughts with them. If there is a book of remembrance I would be very grateful if you could place the following there for me.

Bernard Auton
Maru-a-Pula 1975-1979

I remember meeting Jock when I was starting my O' Levels. He taught geography, my favourite subject, so my expectations of him were high. His expectations of me, of all of us, were higher. Jock taught me geography but he also taught me how to think, how to write an exam, where to place the effort for the maximum benefit. He taught me mind-mapping — a tool I use every day. My wife says I cannot go to the supermarket without mind-mapping first, no lists for me!

In the sixth form he taught me geography again but it was out of the classroom, out of the school, that he taught me the best lessons. Jock taught me to love the bush — the flora, the fauna, the space, the changing shape of the land. On school field trips, during school holidays and occasional weekends we would rattle around in his converted landrover seeking out wildlife, new habitats and new perspectives. We sat around crackling fires, drank coffee with condensed milk out of tin mugs, dunked rusks and chewed on dried apricots while talking about what we had seen. He took me in a group to Tuli where I truly fell in love with a place. After leaving Maru-a-Pula I would go and work there. Last year I took my family to the Fig trees by the Limpopo where we had camped.

My first job was teaching and then I understood his pleasure in seeing pupils grasp new ideas, take a set of facts and interpret them for themselves; or better still those "Aha!" moments when a student deducts an idea on their own. When you teach sometimes you have to take over a colleagues class at short notice. With no preparation you try to keep the class interested for 40 minutes, so you keep one lesson plan in your back pocket for those surprise periods. Mine is 'An Introduction to Mind-maps', repeating the lesson Jock taught me many years ago.

I was 26 when someone drove into my car and my pelvis and leg were shattered. I knew the next few months would be spent in a wheelchair and on crutches. Those are the cards you are dealt and you have choices on how to play them. I remembered the way Jock played his and got on with living my life to the full. As my condition stretched into years I learned to appreciate how much he never let his disability define him.

A few years later when the surgeons, physios and lawyers had eventually done their work I was able to travel to Gaborone and meet Jock in his house on the Lobatse Road. Face to face I don't think I did a very good job thanking him for what he had done for me. I wanted to thank him for his drive and determination, his love of education and knowledge, perhaps to talk about the bush. But he seemed tired, frustrated and maybe angry so we didn't talk as long as I anticipated.

He was not in Gaborone when I took my daughters to Botswana, so he didn't see how I continue to try and pass on the values and lessons he taught me.

In every person's life there is one person whose teaching touches you. Often you don't realise how deeply until later on.

Bernard