My father, David Higginbotham, who has died aged 85, was an inspirational teacher known for using humour to help young children understand maths.
Determined to breathe life into the subject he had found so dull as a boy, he drew cartoons on the blackboard to make the concepts more fun. A man with a wheelbarrow moved decimal points around. An empty bird cage kicked off a lesson about the polygon. A chap selling cans showed how to deal with fractions by cancelling, and the lowest common multiple, or LCM, was explained by his spotty, buck-toothed “secret girlfriend”, Elsie M.
It must have worked – he was bemused but delighted to count two of the country’s greatest mathematicians, Sir Tim Gowers and Sir Andrew Wiles (who went on to solve Fermat’s Last Theorem) among his pupils.
Born in Sutton, south London, to Nora (nee Hobson), a ballroom dancing teacher, and Philip Higginbotham, who worked for Burmah Oil, David was evacuated from Burma (Myanmar) with his mother to Kotagiri, India, during the second world war.
He was sent, aged seven, to board at Glengorse school in Battle, East Sussex, followed by Clifton college, Bristol. He then studied history at Sidney Sussex College, Cambridge, where he played real tennis for the university.
In 1963 David joined the staff of King’s College school, Cambridge, home to the choristers of the world-famous choir, and would often be spotted walking the top-hatted young singers to chapel.
David worked at King’s College school for 55 years – as a teacher, head of sport, deputy head and latterly registrar, showing prospective parents around. Known by everyone from the chair of governors to the smallest child simply as “Higgo”, he gave all his pupils nicknames too, usually a pun or Spoonerism.
He married Annie Cooke (nee Ayers) in 1968, having met her at a party in Cambridge six months earlier – their whirlwind romance settled into a long, sunny marriage.
An outstanding cook, David was at his happiest around a dinner table crammed with friends and family enjoying his excellent food and wine. He played squash for the county, adored watching rugby, and spent hours in the garden growing vegetables, including huge pumpkins.
Above all else he loved comedy, and had a particular passion for silly jokes and wordplay. When his son, Dan, was killed in a road accident aged 15, the tragedy made my father even more determined to find joy in a life that had suddenly turned so bleak.
Although he had Alzheimer’s, he never became depressed or angry. He accepted his illness with grace and humour.
He is survived by Annie, his daughters, Kate and me, three grandchildren and two great-grandchildren.
