It is with deepest regret that the School has been informed of the death of Mr D M Pope, who died at his home on Sunday 25th July 2010 at the age of 81 years.

Mr Pope joined the School in 1968 as Head of English remaining in this post until his retirement in December 1993. During his time at the School Mr Pope was also Housemaster of Rogers House and a member of the School's CCF Corps, eventually becoming Contingent Commander.

Many students will remember him with great fondness and may wish to have details of his funeral:

Beckminster Methodist Church (Penn Fields) on Thursday 12th August 2010 12.45pm, followed by a private cremation at Bushbury

A former pupil's memories of Mr Pope:

David Maurice Pope (or ‘DM’ as he was known to my generation), was quite a pivotal figure for me, although he wouldn’t have known it. From a young boy’s perspective during the early to mid-70s, he was an easy man to respect and admire from an intellectual point of view - harder perhaps to like. Although he seemed quite stern, he adhered to a strict code of fairness and I have an abiding memory of his dislike to prejudice or bullying between the boys at that time. I think I was a ‘neutral’ where he was concerned – neither disliked or favoured (although nobody was truly favoured). As he got older he softened and his vice-like grip in the classroom wasn’t quite what it had been. This seemed to create almost a second character phase in his time at the Royal – more relaxed. Although I wasn’t taught by him at this time, I’ve often wondered what caused the change. At all times though, I was aware of a dry sense of humour, hidden quite well. If something amused him, the lips would purse and the eyes crinkle and narrow but you’d miss it if you weren’t looking hard enough. He may have belly-laughed in the Common Room for all I know but to us he seemed quite inscrutable.

His loyal commitment to the CCF coupled with his peculiar tone and turn-of-phrase, produced some truly memorable and hilarious incidents in that department. They are really too numerous to mention here but for instance I still smile now when I think of the monumental ‘rollicking’ we got after sending several ‘thunder-flashes’ over the hedge at some rival school officers at Nesscliffe, followed by the barely discernible pursed lips and twinkle in the eyes as he strode away. Or the delight of knowing what character-building moment was coming next, when a younger and more innocent cadet made the mistake of calling a rifle a ‘gun’.

Despite a career in things technical, my first love has always been English. We are from that generation of pupils hobbled by the-then modish thinking in education, that ‘little Johnny’ or ‘little Jane’ was best served by an absence in formal grammar when teaching the subject. Although my primary education was quite good in rural Shropshire, it too had fallen foul of some of the modern schools of thought. DM did his best to correct our grammatical shortcomings, even though he was primarily teaching us English Literature. He also taught us the importance of etymology and root Latin/Greek; how the use of key suffixes and prefixes could determine the meaning of a word you did not know. And so on and so forth. Even now, I feel sure he wouldn’t be entirely pleased with this piece – homage though it is. Why use a hyphen when a comma or semi-colon will do? As for starting a sentence with a conjunction – oh dear. Worse still, mix up a conjunctive adverb with a plain conjunction and we really are in trouble....

He was joined later by a young ‘trendy’ teacher – Dave Roberts. Over the space of two to three years, just prior to and during ‘O’Levels, they provided the perfect combination of core skills and creativity, with DM in particular providing the former. It wasn’t that he couldn’t inspire you to be creative, it was more that he provided the tools for you to do so. Mr Roberts then forced you to be creative because during a lesson he often allowed no other construct to exist. I am sure the partnership was unwitting but I am eternally grateful to them both for what they taught me.

We were always aware that DM was a family man and here the familiarity was most striking. Mrs Pope, in particular, always had an interested or kind word to say to a boy who was passing. DM became therefore, approachable by proxy.

I know that the last years of frailty took their toll, so I like to picture DM still striding around RWS in all his glory, chin slightly raised, impeccably dressed, umbrella in one hand and an ensemble being silently conducted with the other. Looking back now, I realise I did like him a lot after all. He was old-school, a ‘good bloke’.

God bless you DM - the world is a less interesting place without you.

SF

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