Ian Whitwham was a terrific teacher at my secondary school. He taught me English Literature from the third year, when class behaviour was about as bad as it could possibly be, up to the sixth form, when most people had left school and the remnant was actually keen to learn stuff before applying, with mixed results, to university.
After retiring as a teacher, Whitwham moved from London to Dorset with his late wife Jill. (Note: at school I called him Sir to his face and Whitwham behind his back. After leaving school I learned to call him Ian.)
As well as being a great teacher, he’s always been a terrific writer. Over the years he has written many great things, published in (among other places) The Guardian.
Recently, I was staying in Dorset quite near the village where Ian lives. I phoned him, asked if I could pop over. We had a great time talking about the writing we love – as I tried to convey in the drawing above.
This is another drawing, based on another photo. It’s based on a photo of Ian and Jill that appeared in one of those Guardian stories.
Location: Chesil Beach.
Today Ian has published in the Observer1 a story about losing Jill.
I hope you will read it. And I leave you with these questions:
- Who were your teachers?
- What influence did they have on you?
- Have you told them?
***
Last updated: 09 January 2026
Originally posted this to Instagram, without specifically naming Ian / Whitwham. The comments included:
from Rachel Feuchtwang (my former classmate):
- How lovely, was it Ian Whitwham?
from Miranda Levy:
- I did! Several emails back and forth during the pandemic with my old English teacher at #bancroftschool – Mr Jones. Gave me a lifelong love of the subject (and was also verry handsome in his day). This exchange made me – and I hope him, to some degree- very happy
from Clover Stroud:
- Yes, I have told Chris Withers who was my amazing English teacher at sixth form college who helped me get into uni, and then decades later taught my kids too. She is amazing._
from Karen Dobres:
- Mrs Cullen lived in Cricklewood and was pretty left wing. Once she said to us all, ‘Work harder. You’re competing against kids from private schools whose parents do the Times crossword!’ That spurred us on! Yet despite the fact that she was on strike, she still had us all round to her house when our English Lit O Level loomed. I knew it was a big decision for her, and will never forget her empathy, her kindness ♥️
from Jo York:
- It works both ways…I taught for a long time and love being in touch with former students who mean a great deal to me!
from Hina Zaidi:
- Mr. Norris, GCSE Drama teacher, king of the one liner and educator extraordinaire. His lessons were the most fun I ever had in school. We went to see his elder daughter in college plays, and celebrated when she got in to RADA. His younger daughter was our little doll when she came in. Looking back, I think it was seeing this man, whose warmth and passion ran in to every area of his life, that was so admirable. I was deeply saddened when I heard he passed away a few years ago, along with all his former students.
from Marianne Power:
- Love this. Mrs Peters, my economics teacher at a-level. She told us to marry someone who made us laugh (I didn’t) and got so excited teaching us that she would write THANK YOU! At the end of our essays when we did a good job. An alive human who wanted us to be alive humans, not obedient ones.
from Bridget McKenzie:
- I had a very special Art History teacher called Ruth Barker. She was a Quaker with a broad peaceful smile, a long plait down her back and an ever-flowing knowledge of inspiring artists. I didn’t do well in the exam and her teaching methods would probably be criticised now but what I most learned was a spirit of global humanity and imagination.
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If you enjoyed this post, please consider sharing it by email or on social media. Here's the link. Thanks, JPF.
1 Article in the Observer. Confusingly, that link is to the Guardian, which sold off the Observer in 2025 but kept its archive.