Good Night and Good Luck: The Pulse says Goodbye to Mr. Demetris "Chief/Sweetpea" Christophy
Summer brings with it the anticipation of a month-and-change away from school; time enough to refresh and revive one’s self before a new academic year. Lately, though, that anticipation – usually one of impatient hope – has been tinged with sadness. Tinged with sadness, because we have to say farewell to Demetris Christophy, Head of Media and co-founder of The Pulse.
Demetris Christophy leaves the Media Department, and indeed CFS as a whole, in far richer and more vibrant condition than they were when he arrived. Over the course of nearly three years, he has turned Room 151 – where he is regularly to be found seeking the solace that can only be found in the salt and E numbers of a Pot Noodle – from just another classroom into a bustling, working media hub. Not one to venture beyond the confines of 151 if such an excursion is at all avoidable, Mr. Christophy is never too busy for either his students or colleagues. The school’s audio-visual archive of student endeavour and achievement has been exponentially expanded, thanks to Demetris’ commitment to his subject and to enriching the quality of students’ educational experiences. Knowing Mr. Christophy as I and a few others do, I take it for granted that these qualities will soon be affecting his new school for the better.
Not only will we miss old Christophy for his subject-related nouse and dedication to his profession; we will also be left with a sizeable cultural gap, as he takes with him a love of unapologetically macho 1980s action flicks, and a penchant for an antiquated turn of phrase – among the regulars, “rum t’ing,” “knocked into a cocked hat,” “keen as mustard.” On that note, I would like at this point to declare Demetris Christophy’s departure from CFS a decidedly rum thing. With only days to go, at the time of writing, before the school year draws to a welcome close, this writer has realized something. We will miss old Christophy. How, for one thing, will The Pulse look in a post-Christophalyptic age? Only time will tell.
Thinking on someone’s departure leads one to thinking about the past, about the stories the collision of your and their worlds has produced.
Here – briefly – is one such story.
Even though we teachers like to speak out against peer pressure, Mr. Christophy was subject to just that barely a week ago. Yes, he was… coerced, shall we say, into going on Rush, a particularly high and fast ride at Thorpe Park (heights combined with speed being a particular fear of his). Rest assured, he survived, but as a mere shade of the man who had proudly taken on the mantle of Coach Captain that morning! Ever gracious amid the crumbling debris of his own dignity, Mr. Christophy simply responded to my belated and lily-livered apology with a shrug and the words, “A grown man always has the choice of walking away.” Looks like those years studying Sly and Arnie put some steel into the old dog, after all!
On my time with Demetris Christophy, I will always look fondly, as I know will many others. Still, change is often, as lovers of antiquated phrases are wont to say, as good as a rest. In the end, change is also, for good or otherwise, inevitable. Now, then, it seems fitting to sign off to old Christophy using the catchprase of Edward R. Murrow, a media giant in his time, and a man of eloquence, wit, and poise – much like our departing friend.
Good night, and good luck.
Demetris Christophy leaves the Media Department, and indeed CFS as a whole, in far richer and more vibrant condition than they were when he arrived. Over the course of nearly three years, he has turned Room 151 – where he is regularly to be found seeking the solace that can only be found in the salt and E numbers of a Pot Noodle – from just another classroom into a bustling, working media hub. Not one to venture beyond the confines of 151 if such an excursion is at all avoidable, Mr. Christophy is never too busy for either his students or colleagues. The school’s audio-visual archive of student endeavour and achievement has been exponentially expanded, thanks to Demetris’ commitment to his subject and to enriching the quality of students’ educational experiences. Knowing Mr. Christophy as I and a few others do, I take it for granted that these qualities will soon be affecting his new school for the better.
Not only will we miss old Christophy for his subject-related nouse and dedication to his profession; we will also be left with a sizeable cultural gap, as he takes with him a love of unapologetically macho 1980s action flicks, and a penchant for an antiquated turn of phrase – among the regulars, “rum t’ing,” “knocked into a cocked hat,” “keen as mustard.” On that note, I would like at this point to declare Demetris Christophy’s departure from CFS a decidedly rum thing. With only days to go, at the time of writing, before the school year draws to a welcome close, this writer has realized something. We will miss old Christophy. How, for one thing, will The Pulse look in a post-Christophalyptic age? Only time will tell.
Thinking on someone’s departure leads one to thinking about the past, about the stories the collision of your and their worlds has produced.
Here – briefly – is one such story.
Even though we teachers like to speak out against peer pressure, Mr. Christophy was subject to just that barely a week ago. Yes, he was… coerced, shall we say, into going on Rush, a particularly high and fast ride at Thorpe Park (heights combined with speed being a particular fear of his). Rest assured, he survived, but as a mere shade of the man who had proudly taken on the mantle of Coach Captain that morning! Ever gracious amid the crumbling debris of his own dignity, Mr. Christophy simply responded to my belated and lily-livered apology with a shrug and the words, “A grown man always has the choice of walking away.” Looks like those years studying Sly and Arnie put some steel into the old dog, after all!
On my time with Demetris Christophy, I will always look fondly, as I know will many others. Still, change is often, as lovers of antiquated phrases are wont to say, as good as a rest. In the end, change is also, for good or otherwise, inevitable. Now, then, it seems fitting to sign off to old Christophy using the catchprase of Edward R. Murrow, a media giant in his time, and a man of eloquence, wit, and poise – much like our departing friend.
Good night, and good luck.