<B>CARLO DE SOUZA Head of Arts, Culture & Sports in HRD of FAIL</B>

?Some of my fellow students of Royal College Curepipe recently expressed difficulty in selecting a ?favourite teacher? from the group we were lucky to be taught by. In turn, ?attempting the question?(!) I would have liked beforehand to seize the opportunity of describing the multi-faceted personality of a ?good teacher? with reference to those that taught me, my former colleagues of Collège du St. Esprit, or some gifted ones I led as rector of St. Mary?s College, before moving into Human resources.

The definition has evolved through the years and to-day, the teacher lives, in the context of a syllabus, which describes skills rather than attitudes; he/she is more often perceived as a facilitator rather than the ?master? he used to be.

It is with affection that I remember them. Armand Maudave?s efforts to prompt us, quite early, through an ambitious reading list, so as to reach beyond the programme; The dignity and sense of values of Guy Ohis; some of the comedians that Georgy Espitalier Noël, this tremendous actor, directed have become lawyers, media specialists... and teachers. Then, there is the efficiency of a Wan Hok Chee. Daniel Koenig, who dared introduce French Literature & Culture in lieu of the boring and traditional French Sub translations and challenged me to recite Voltaire on stage. Noel Asarapin?s art of dissection ? my acquired technique ? was later described by Fr. McTiernan at St. Esprit as ?the incapacity (of scientists) of seeing things in their entirety?. An ebullient Karl Mulnier, another of my familiar ghosts, barged into one of my novels as a main character...

However, one man seems to escape any classification by his original, unorthodox and brilliant approach to education. Robert d?Unienville walked into our class (and my life...) on my first school day. His hands were buried deep in the pockets of a drill suit of undetermined colour, his hair dishevelled, and he raised an eyebrow at our restless crowd as if we were three-legged anthropoids. Still in motion, he fired his first question, which was meant to assess our capacity to be undisturbed by what he had in store for us.

He re-established laziness as a virtue, as that capacity of solving problems, not only mathematical, with the minimum energy. The story of Robert as a student, humbly suggesting a three-line solution to his own teacher who had scribbled over the whole blackboard, is well-known. For him, pleasure was an intrinsic part of the process of learning.

Later, the man shuttled with us in this Royal College Hall (that to-day bears his name) in the same outfit except for tennis shoes. He revealed to some of us amongst whom Patrick Ulcoq who reached Mauritius finals at the age of 17, Jacob Pinharry, an improbable sumo-wrestler-like player and powerful Cyril Mayer, the innate elegance of this game.

The six-member college team heaped into his old Singer Gazelle to compete and eventually achieve a second place in the first division national interclub league. I have soaked up his crafty approach to tactics and his love for sport. Irrational like any love. He knew the name and work of every single pupil in the class, which he explained by his excellent memory. It was rather the fruit of a genuine interest in the student as a person.

Experiencing some difficulties in calculus, I was given an appointment, to be led unexpectedly to a bookcase and ordered ?Choose one?. I left with Graham Greene?s The Quiet American through which I ploughed just not to disappoint him. His ultimate words of advice to us, school leavers, were: ?In life, don?t lose your sense of humour and never give up literature.?

After retiring as rector of RCC, Robert joined College du St. Esprit. I was privileged to umpire an after-dinner bout between him and Paul Randabel, the symbol of the prestigious Quatre-Bornes college and another of my gurus, on the respective merits of State and Private education. There was plenty of wine and I just don?t know who won.?