Bertie Noble

(1936-2025)

Shell I, St. Alban’s College, Lomas de Zamora, May 1973, 9 AM approx.

The bearded headmaster walks into the classroom and tells the students that the history teacher is absent for the day and that he will take her place. Absolute silence in the room. Everyone fears La Berta. So having him as a substitute teacher is considered torture. The headmaster-turned-instructor inquires about the session’s topic, borrows the textbook on the history of Britain from one of the students, and briefly browses through it. Then he walks up to the platform where his desk is located, and, staring down at the class, whispers, “Sugar…”.

And then again, more firmly and louder now, “SUGAR”, and even louder, “SUGAR”.

The students are stirred out of their teenage morning somnolence by this baritone voice that does not seem to make any sense.

And there he goes again, sweeping the classroom with a scowl: “SUGAR!, SUGAR!, SUGAR!”

And the students probably think that La Berta has finally gone bonkers.

And the scowl turns into an imposition: “SUGAR, MR SPEAKER.” And the headmaster dissolves, giving way to the character of Pitt the Elder addressing the House of Commons in the Parliament of George II.

And I think to myself, This guy is scary, but he is really a great teacher. I don’t know if the rest of my classmates think the same. But I do. After all, I know my history. Yo soy el traga del curso. Bocho.

That year, he left for England on a scholarship, with all his family. They returned after two years. I never had him in class again. But I got to know him very well. I married his eldest child. The rest is (also) history.