I still can’t quite believe that you will never walk through my office door again as you cut through to yours, and I say walk but really it was much more of a stride. Everything you did was with purpose and determination in your big leather coat, keys jangling, and always stack of paperwork under one arm and a big satchel on the other. You sometimes made me jump if I was engrossed in a piece of work and you knew it, following your arrival up with a tilt of your head and a huge smile.

You always said what you thought and consequently could be terribly rude; a favourite red and black striped dress ended up in the charity shop after you asked me if I’d come to work as Dennis the Menace! But you made me laugh everyday with your dry sense of humour and wry observations about people and life.

I have never met anyone with more integrity and commitment to moral standards. You wouldn’t compromise on doing the right thing and that made you an inspirational leader. You made time for everyone no matter what their role, knew their name, their children’s names and what was going on in their lives, and you cared. You were a sounding board for staff about career choices, marital and family problems, health issues and so much more, regardless of how private these matters were, because you were approachable, and your counsel was valued. As a family man, you understood.

You had an encyclopaedic memory when it came to students, both accomplishments and their misdemeanours and could recall details from years ago, students who had ‘long left the building’. You kept in touch with so many, delighting in their achievements.
Your professional accomplishments are and will remain far reaching and long lasting, but it was your passion for teaching that was always evident. That is what you loved to do and often said it was the best job in the world, a vocation and a privilege to educate young minds. I think that all of your students will now realise what a privilege it was to have been taught by you. There is a library of biology books in your office ranging from the usual to the completely obscure, some pretty ancient from your own school days and some recently published as you yourself continued to learn. Your students talk about how you brought topics to life, gave them strategies to recall information and you always seem to have had a prop of some kind, be it QR codes or loaves of bread.

You were a complete tech fan, excited about new gadgets you could use in the classroom and your office, and you looked forward to updates on your Iphone so much you could have been an ambassador for Apple. A keen photographer who produced some beautiful pictures and delighted when you won a local competition.

Andy, you have been my rock through difficult times both at work and in my personal life and someone I could always depend upon for fair and considered advice. You supported me, trusted me and gave me the opportunity to develop my skills and career. There is a saying that life is not what you buy but what you build, not how long you live but how you lived. You have built a legacy to be proud of and you lived every day with honour and dignity.

I will miss you more than I can ever express in words.
Sarah Georgiou