Henry Adams, the US historian, left the world a precious epigram: a teacher affects eternity. When I first came across this saying I liked it, for its simple truth and internal music. It is so true in both the literal and metaphorical senses that nobody thinks much about it. I have had occasion to think a lot about it these past couple of weeks. I dedicated, a Diary column to a number of my teachers on Teachers’ Day last year and one of those I mentioned was Mr Paddy Kelly Animpong who taught me English Literature at Okuapemman School. Paddy did not read the article himself but other people who did called his attention to it and he eventually got a copy of The Mirror and after reading it called to thank me for it. A few weeks later he came to my office and we spent a good two hours reminiscing about old times and remembering mutual friends and episodes. It was a very pleasant afternoon and we both vowed to get together sometime soon. It was not to be. Paddy will be buried next week Saturday, March 8, 2008 at Awudome in Accra. Paddy breezed in to Form 4A as a breath of fresh air and immediately cleared out the fetid air of rote learning that had passed for literary studies. He was not my first literary influence: that was Mr Blair Butterworth, a Peace Corps teacher who was assigned to teach us French but taught us everything a person needed to know to start a life of accomplishment and refinement. It was Uncle Blair who introduced me to the joys of poetry via Edgar Alan Poe's Annabel Lee, a poem of such lyrical magic that even today I get goose bumps when I read it. Before then, poetry or "recitation", as it was known in elementary school, was at best a silly diversion but almost always a torture. A "recitation" was only meant to test your memory but had no effect on life as one lived it. Uncle Blair changed all that. But he left after only one year and I don't remember the teachers who taught Eng. Lit. in years two and three; neither they nor what they taught made any lasting impression at all. That was and is the problem with teaching in Ghana. Many teachers just pass through the classrooms without having or showing any passion for their subjects and pupils. Paddy was not one of them. He came from Legon at a time when the University was brimming with ideas and nowhere more than the Institute of African Studies of which the Department of Theatre was a part. Paddy had already gained mild notoriety for having written and produced a play in which an uncle of his was held to be libelled. The case went to court and I think he lost although I was too young to understand the implications of the whole thing, except that it appeared in the newspapers at the time. Paddy’s approach to teaching literature, and life in general, was a practical and demonstrative one. He was the first person to make the connection between reading and writing for me. I remember that I started writing at a very early age and wrote all manner of things but there was no literary consciousness to them before Paddy arrived on the scene. There are two episodes that formed most of my future in that crucible of hormone-fuelled teenage angst that is the secondary boarding school. The first was the formation of a creative writing club at the school. I don't think there is any better feeling for a teenager to feel than that he is a writer! And this was at a time when writers and public intellectuals were greatly admired and respected. The high point of the writers club's existence was the first visit of Auntie Efua Sutherland of blessed memory. I can still see her as she arrived - tall, elegant and very beautiful. From that moment I adopted her as Mother and she had no choice in the matter. She lavished unmer¬ited attention and love on me for the rest of her life. Paddy also introduced us to Professor Atukwei Okai, the master craftsman in the art of poetry. That is another of the unforgettable episodes in my life. Paddy brought his group of loyal writers to the old Drama Studio to WATCH Atukwei perform poetry. We went back to school that night as a band of poets. Speaking for myself, I know I did not sleep much that night because I was writing poems. Then, in addition to literature and all things literary, Paddy introduced me to journalism. It came in a circuitous manner. Due to some circumstances that we shall skip here, the need arose for some kind of platform for students to express themselves, especially about issues of discipline in the school. Some of the teachers in the school, especially those who believed that you spoiled the child by sparing the rod, wanted strong-arm tactics to be used against student dissenters. Paddy had a different idea. He went to see the headmaster and persuaded him to allow him to start a weekly school newspaper. When the headmaster said there was no money for the project Paddy answered that students would buy the newspaper at two pesewas per issue. This was how Okuass Weekly was born. I served on the first editorial board as sports editor but, more important, I wrote my first-ever column in that paper. I was one of a handful of students who made sure that the paper was ready before six o'clock every Saturday morning. Of course, we are not referring to work done on deluxe computers and printed on complex colour printers. All articles arrived handwritten and were typed on Imperial typewriters and print¬ed on something called "Photostat" machines. By that time, Paddy had taken me under his full protective wing and never let me go really. Everyone thought I was his younger brother because that was how he treated me and introduced me. His house was my home and I had complete access to everything he called his own. Throughout his working career at the Arts Council and National Youth Council (he was the Executive Secretary at both) and State Transport Corporation, he won many friends through his firm principles which were always quietly expressed. He saw through nonsense very quickly and did not spout the latest slogan but he was always willing to grant you the right to express your opinions. But he was always my teacher. He continued to teach and guide me and our last meeting was no different. We discussed the funding mechanism for culture that I am involved in administering and came up with some interesting suggestions. We agreed to discuss them at our next meeting... Paddy's funeral will take place at the Keep Fit Club, Dansoman, before and after his burial. He has bequeathed me eternity. I wonder if any former Okuapemman student preserved a copy of Okuass Weekly; I would dearly like to see it, please. gapenteng@hotmail.com Source: Kwasi Gyan-Appenteng/The Mirror