We Scots like to boast, with some justification, of our historical parish school system which ensured higher standards of literacy and numeracy among the working classes than were common in most other countries. But not all teachers were up to the job, and there were not a few like John Reid. Someone once wrote: "In those days it was the custom in Scotland that whosoever was thought not fit to be any thing else, was judged good enough to be a teacher, and destined accordingly; and thus it too often happened that our parochial seminaries were Bethesda pools, surrounded by the lame, the halt and the paralytic, waiting for the friendly hand of patronage to lift them into office when a vacancy occurred."
In my home parish of Kilrenny in the East Neuk of Fife, the parish schoolmaster James Fleming was said in 1854 to be totally unfit for office due to his addiction to drink. But it took another seven years to get rid of him. Undeterred, in 1861 he persuaded Lord Ormidale in the Court of Session to issue an interdict prohibiting the heritors of Kilrenny from appointing another master in his place, coolly stating that he would happily resign if they agreed to pay him his full salary for the rest of his life!
But then the neighbouring parish of Anstruther produced my distant relative William Tennant, crippled since childhood by polio, who became parish schoolmaster at Dunino but ended up as professor of Oriental Languages at St. Andrews University purely on the basis of his self-taught knowledge of languages, never having taken a degree. And then there was Alexander Moncrieff, the sickly son of a Cellardyke fisherman pressed into naval service who never came home again. Mr. Moncrieff, tho' unable to go to sea himself, taught navigation to young fishermen in Cellardyke and got more of them through their seamanship exams. than any other navigation teacher on the coast.
Harry