From disaffected pupil to principal
As a teenager, Ross Sinclair was disaffected with school, so he left partway through his final year. Little did he know he would go on to spend another four decades in the education system.
Despite being top of his class, he didn’t find his lessons at Cashmere High School in Christchurch particularly engaging.
Later, throughout his 35-year career as a teacher and principal, Sinclair was committed to ensuring all his students fulfilled their potential.
Born in a taxi on the way to St Helens Hospital in Wellington, Ross Philip Sinclair was a baby when his family moved from a state house in Titahi Bay to Taihape, in Manawatu¯ .
He and siblings Lesley, Mike and Barry were close in age, with less than five years between the four of them. Sinclair was 7 when their youngest sister, Joanne, was born.
While his parents, a joiner and a chart reader turned stay-at-home mum, had little money, their home was a happy one, filled with animated chatter at mealtimes.
From a young age, Sinclair was a voracious reader. ‘‘It was almost like he inhaled them,’’ one of his best mates, Martin Vaughan, would later recall.
Reading was a passion Sinclair shared with his father, who would begin each day at 6 o’clock sitting in the kitchen in his dressing gown with his nose in a book, before getting ready for work.
In 1968, the family moved to Christchurch, where the eldest four Sinclair children attended Cashmere High. It was the second week of term and the school’s roll was already full – but principal Terry McCoombs agreed to let the siblings enrol after finding out Ross had been dux at Taihape Primary the year before.
After leaving school, he led a somewhat nomadic life. He walked around the North Island reading War and Peace, and stayed with people he met on his travels who shared his love of literature.
He started an engineering degree, but quickly worked out it wasn’t the career path for him and dropped out partway through the first semester.
For much of the mid-to-late 1970s, while in his 20s, he drove a van for a venetian blinds company. He spent most of his pay on books.
In 1979, he returned to university, this time pursuing a bachelor of arts, majoring in English and history, before completing a masters with first-class honours, and a diploma in teaching.
Fresh out of teachers’ college in 1984, he shifted back to Wellington to take up a position as an English teacher at Wellington College.
His enthusiasm was evident from the first day he walked into the classroom. At 1.93 metres tall, he could have been an imposing presence, if not for the huge smile that was always on his face.
During weekends, he’d swap his suit and tie for head-to-toe leather to take his motorbike for a spin.
He was particularly fond of cricket, sometimes staying up all night to watch the Black Caps play overseas.
The young teacher quickly became known among students for having an engaging and entertaining style.
His lessons were by no means easy, though – Sinclair had high expectations and challenged the boys to strive for success.
At Wellington College, he met Vaughan, a maths teacher, who would become a lifelong friend. The pair soon discovered they shared a love of music and, along with another colleague, formed a band. In the evenings they’d jam together, Sinclair singing, while Vaughan strummed his guitar.
In the staff room, Sinclair developed a reputation as an open-minded person and good listener.
He could have a nuanced discussion with anyone, on any topic.
It was perhaps for these reasons, as well as his high intellect, that he was promoted to head of the English department relatively quickly. He held the role for more than a decade until he moved to Christchurch to become deputy principal at Burnside High in 2003.
While he remained dedicated to his students, he was even more devoted to wife Annabelle, whom he married in 1997, and their three children, Alexander, Charlotte and Emily.
Every summer, the family would escape the city for the tiny coastal settlement of Marahau, at the southern end of the Abel Tasman National Park.
There, Sinclair was at his most content. He’d while away the afternoon sitting in a deck chair, reading, a floppy hat perched on his head to protect his fair skin, with a transistor radio at his feet, so he could listen to the cricket commentary.
In 2008, the family returned to the Wellington region after he became principal at Hutt Valley High School.
When Sinclair flew in for the interview from Christchurch, his old mate Vaughan picked him up from the airport.
Vaughan remembers Sinclair being excited by the opportunity – an attitude that perplexed some of his colleagues.
The school had previously made headlines for a spate of bullying incidents. But where others saw a poisoned chalice, Sinclair saw potential.
Under his leadership, Hutt Valley High embraced a restorative justice approach to disciplinary issues.
Towards the end of his tenure, the school’s roll had grown to the point at which it no longer had capacity to accept out-of-zone enrolments.
During the past couple of years, Sinclair, now in his mid-60s, began suffering serious health problems. After major surgery, he soldiered on, continuing at the helm of Hutt Valley High, until his health declined more sharply towards the end of the past school year.
He died at Wellington Hospital, surrounded by relatives and friends.
His death, at just 65, came as a shock to many in the Hutt Valley community.
‘‘Ross had so much still to give to a lot of people. We have to somehow move forward positively,’’ Vaughan said.
A public memorial will be held at Lower Hutt Events Centre at 11am on January 26. – By Brittany Keogh