My mother, Brigid Knighton, who has died aged 86, was an inspirational teacher of history in south London secondary schools for more than two decades, after a first career in the civil service.
She was born Brigid Carrothers in Upper Norwood, south London, the only child of Eddie, a produce broker, and his wife, Helen (nee Bankes), who had met through amateur dramatics in Liverpool. Throughout her childhood, Brigid lived in Coulsdon, Surrey, where she thrived at Purley grammar school, though the proximity of RAF Kenley meant a short period of evacuation to Denbighshire during the second world war.
Brigid’s father was a polymath with a wide range of interests in theatre, music and literature who took her to see Olivier, Gielgud and Richardson at the theatre, Bradman’s Australian cricketers on their 1948 tour and Thomas Beecham conducting at the Davis Theatre, Croydon. Her aunt Mildred Mordaunt, an Oxford-educated barrister, impressed upon her the need for women to get a good education, and at Royal Holloway College, London, Brigid was tutored by Robert Latham, later editor of the first complete edition of The Diaries of Samuel Pepys.
When she achieved a first-class degree in history in 1954 (with top marks in all 11 final papers) an academic career beckoned. But as her father was in failing health she wanted to contribute more to the family finances, so she instead joined the fast stream of the civil service; she was quietly proud that she beat some candidates in the entrance exam who went on to become permanent secretaries.
Her department, Customs and Excise, was unused to accommodating young women, and she recalled the extraordinary concern to make sure there was a suitable lavatory available when she visited the Liverpool docks. She did have some regret that she had let down many women (including herself) by successfully proposing an increase in purchase tax on lipstick.
In 1957, she married William Knighton, later a senior civil servant in the Department of Trade and Industry, whom she met on a Treasury training course. When my sister, Harriet, and I came along in the early 60s, our mother started a new career teaching history, spending four years at Crown Woods, a large comprehensive school in Eltham.
Her real spiritual home was Mary Datchelor girls’ school in Camberwell, one of south-east London’s first grammar schools for girls, which she joined in 1970. She revelled in the school’s egalitarian ethos and standards and was passionate about giving girls equal opportunities whatever their background – she was known for her stimulating Oxbridge entrance classes.
After Mary Datchelor closed in 1981 she moved to James Allen’s girls’ school in Dulwich, where again she set the bar high, teaching A-level courses on politics and on Charles Darwin. Former students remember with fondness a diminutive figure who radiated intellectual rigour, irreverent humour and benign warmth. She had a long and happy retirement, settling in Midhurst, West Sussex.
She is survived by William, by Harriet and me, and by four grandchildren, Ben, Tom, Eli and Alex.
