In the two years prior to the arrival of Mr. McDavid, Miss Dolphin taught us rudimentary music theory. She allowed us to apply certain aspects of the theory, by singing the songs that were selected for the coming speech night. Some of us were invited to join the choir, but we ducked out of this to maintain our standing with the class delinquents. As music was not a core subject, most of the boys were reluctant students and Miss Dolphin was challenged in finding ways to motivate us One day she mentioned that she got a letter from a former student expressing his gratitude for having taken music; at a party somewhere in Britain, he surprised his guest with his knowledge of music.

This letter, Miss Dolphin’s motivating remark and the implication of how quality must be projected, have made a lasting impression on me. I have often imagined the scenario of the grateful student and his guest to have played out like this. He would tell his acquaintance that he is not from Africa and that Guyana is in South America, and would keep him off balance by impressing him with his “English” education. Finally, he would deliver the coup-de-grace by mentioning something he learnt in music class. That night, before going to bed, he would dash off a letter to Miss Dolphin expressing his remorse for all the trouble he created in the music class.

The government always called upon Miss Dolphin when they needed help in musical matters; most of it would have been large scale planning at cultural festivals. She related to us how she was part of a delegation to a foreign country and saved the host and invitees from embarrassment by whistling the national anthem over the telephone. It was one of these national expositions and the bandleader, who had never heard of Guyana, or thought he had the anthem covered by the ubiquitous “God Save Our Gracious Queen”, had no anthem to play for this new country. Miss Dolphin came to the rescue by working with him until he was able to write the parts for all the instruments. In the end it was a happy experience for everyone, the flattered guests, the relieved bandleader and the proud Miss Dolphin.

Miss Dolphin, was now called upon to help in the planning of a major music festival; this required a leave of absence and necessitated the search for a temporary replacement. One day, in the middle of the term, the plump and matronly Miss Dolphin was gone and a reddish middle-aged man, with a dour expression, took her place.

In the first few classes, at the beginning of the class, after we took our seats, Mr. McDavid would uncover a passage of text that he had written on the board. He would give us a time limit to find the names of music instruments that were hidden in the text. It was a tricky game because the names of the instruments would span a number of words. The student who identified the most instruments won a quarter, which was enough to buy a cheese roll and soft drink in the tuck shop.

The last part of the class would be devoted to music appreciation. Sometimes he would bring an album from his private collection or select an LP, from the mainly unused collection, in the music library. The initial selections did not go over well with the students and what was supposed to end with enlightenment often developed in chaos. It was during Mr. McDavid’s music appreciation sessions that one was likely to receive a knuckle at the back of the head, from students who were bored by his selections.

Sensing a resistance to classical music, Mr. McDavid revised his strategy by bring his notorious Sparky LP. It was a story about a train and its friends who spoke via some musical instruments. Sparky the train would puff the words I think I can……I think I can” when confronted with an obstacle; it was a selection that was appropriate for someone at the preschool or kindergarten level.

In a curious reaction to our bemusement Mr. McDavid was now convinced that Sparky was the way to introduce classical music. At the beginning of the term, if one happened to pass by the music room, he could hear the shrill whistle of Sparky and the puffing words “I think I can……I think I can”. For his efforts, Mr. McDavid was regarded as a harmless eccentric and named after this train and the name “Sparky” stuck because of the direct contrast that it provided with its bearer’s demeanor.

His music sessions were my first introduction to the serious listening of classical music; before that, one would accidentally hear pieces over the radio. I remember fondly some of the pieces he introduced: Leonard Pennario playing Schubert’s “Marche militaire”, Handel’s water music, and Van Cliburn’s “My favourite Chopin”. Sometimes, he would compare different renditions of a particular piece. I recall him intently listening to the playing of a Chopin polonaise by Jose Iturbi and Van Cliburn, declaring that Iturbi had a better left hand. For those who were attentive to Mr. McDavid, we looked forward to these sessions because the music energized us for a long time after the class. It was obvious the he revered the music he played for us; long after a piece had ended he would give us the cue to leave, as if he was hesitant to break the spell cast by the music.

After being at Queen’s for a while, Mr. McDavid was now a candidate for baiting and teasing. Anything that compared pop music favorably with classical music would be urgently brought to his attention. An American professor wrote that John Lennon was good a composer as Mozart. We took turns in bringing this to Mr. McDavid’s attention, but every time he would indignantly reply “but Mozart was genius!”. A friend of my father told me that a “Sir” Frank McDavid was the brother of our music teacher; when I mentioned this Mr. McDavid, I deliberately dropped the “Sir” but was immediately corrected. In subsequent conversations I would drop the “Sir” and he would automatically correct me.