Colin Siddons, who died on 8 November 1999 aged 86, was one of
the most brilliant of the generation of physics teachers who
came into teaching out of necessity rather than vocation in the
1930s. He elevated physics teaching into an art and it was for his
inspirational physics teaching that he won international
recognition. He was made an Honorary Life Member of the
Association for Science Education, awarded an Honorary Master
of Science degree by the University of Leeds in recognition of
his `Outstanding Career in Science Teaching', and in 1992 the
Institute of Physics awarded him its prestigious Bragg Medal for
services to physics education.
He was one of those science sons of Bradford who, along
with the Noble Prize winner Sir Edward Appleton and the
outstanding cosmologist Fred Hoyle, are hardly recognized in
their own city. Colin wove together his politics and humanism
in a career that could not but collide with the stuffy, class-ridden
and prejudiced society of Britain in the thirties. He left
Cambridge with a first-class honours degree in Physics, a
product of the University Physics laboratories of Thompson and
Rutherford, who did so much to break the mould of nineteenth
century science, launching science into the modern era.
With his degree he applied to work as a
Meteorologist at the Air Ministry. His scientific competence was
not in doubt but the fact that he read Tolstoy made him
unacceptable to the interview panel.
In the Britain of the thirties, with a working class
background and a father out of work Colin had to get a job.
After 83 applications and 13 interviews, in which he learned the
hard way that teachers' personal lives were not allowed to
deviate from convention, he got his first teaching post in Devon.
He soon found that his school governors did not take kindly to
teachers publicly challenging the support their local MP was
expressing for Hitler and Mussolini. Later, when Colin had
returned to Yorkshire, Chamberlain's notorious Munich
agreement in 1939 drove the 26-year-old, who had been
horrified as a six-year-old at the pointless slaughter of the
1914-18 war, to join the Communist Party.
His public opposition to the war led to his arrest for
criticizing the British Government. He spent three months in
Wakefield goal and was suspended from his teaching post by
Bradford Education Committee. On his release he worked at
Marks and Spencer's as a porter until he was called up.
The British Army were unable to recognize the value of a
first-class physics degree from Cambridge when associated with
political conviction. Even by the end of the war they had not
recognized that Colin's political views were the same as our
allies', the Russians. Colin spent the war in Egypt as an ordinary
soldier with the Eighth Army, learning Russian and educating his
fellow soldiers in politics, physics and astronomy.
Demobbed in 1946 he first taught at Penistone but he was
soon back in Bradford after his suspension was lifted, not
without a good deal of opposition, by the casting vote of the
Chairman of the Education Committee. He became Head of
Science at Thornton Grammar School, where his genius for using
common household materials to demonstrate physical principles
was honed. Washing-up bottles, kitchen foil tapes, polystyrene
plates, baked bean tins, 78 rpm vinyl records, dandelion and
feathers all featured in Colin's Aladdin's cave of Physics, with
which he first charmed and inspired his own students. His
demonstrations were, for many years, a highlight of the Annual
Meeting of the Association for Science Education. After
retirement he was as at home doing experiments with primary
school children as he was with delegates at international
conferences.
His first wife, Joan, was a teacher and also a very practical
woman. Colin was always trying out new ideas for experiments
with her and their three children. Colin was heartbroken when
she died of breast cancer in 1968. Eventually he married Mary,
an old school friend of his first wife, who continued the tradition
of feeding Colin many of the technological titbits of an active
kitchen.
Colin's humanism, left-wing politics and zest for physics and
physics teaching continued right up to the end of his life. He
read the Morning Star, and his instructions for his funeral service
led to a dignified celebration of his life without `religious
hypocrisy'. He was particularly disappointed not to be able to
go to Cornwall and see the August Eclipse for himself, but it
was probably the Institute of Physics' citation on the Bragg
award that best captured Colin's passions for physics:
``Colin Siddons, during a lifetime in physics education,
consistently produced experiments of wit and
ingenuity that simultaneously make difficult
principles accessible to the young and can be extended
to tax the most able prospective physicist. As well
as delighting thousands of students with his
lecture demonstrations, he has illuminated physics for
many teachers in revealing his art of teaching.''
Friends of Colin who have been in touch since learning of his
death, including several from overseas, all agree that physics
teaching is unlikely to see Colin's like again.