For the last 34 years he has imparted his knowledge of history, from Slitrig Crescent to the Somme, on fresh-faced Teries, his unmistakable tones ringing in their ears as they left to make their way in the world.

During his tenure an estimated 7,500 pupils have been taught by Mr Landles.

But last Thursday, when another school term came to an end, so too did the 57-year-old's career and his love affair with the high school.

And yet, he revealed things didn't get off to the best of starts, when he first sampled life at the big school.

He told the Hawick News: "I first came through the door when I was 12-years-old in my first year. There was no primary seven familiarisation visit then.

"My first experience of the high school was getting my head ducked down the toilet by the sixth-year boys, that was your right of passage, initiation."

Unlike many, especially in the current generation, Ian knew exactly what he wanted to do from a fairly young age and it was in his second year, under the guidance of Andrew Erskine and Jock Houston, that he decided his future lay in the past.

"They were my teachers, but I'd actually made up my mind I wanted to be a history teacher before they came. I haven't a clue why," he said.

"It was there. My father was into poetry and had a great love for Hawick and the Borderland and my uncle was a stalwart of the archaeological society. It was maybe just lying dormant."

And so it was off to Edinburgh University for four years, followed by a year at Moray House teacher training college. And although he had digs up in the capital, his beloved Hawick was never far away from his thoughts, leaving every Friday lunch-time in his Morris Minor for the grey auld toon and returning for studies on the Monday morning.

But that did present some problems. He joked: "I could take you to 37 different bits on the old A7 where that car broke down, getting me to, or not getting me to, Edinburgh University. It was a car designed for five, one driving and four pushing."

When a chap by the name of Ted Hogan left the high school in 1975 to travel around the world, a vacancy arose in the history department. A vacancy which would be filled by one Ian Landles, although even that wasn't without event.

He explained: "There was a space and at that time there wasn't even a competitive interview. I must've heard about it and wrote and I got a letter to go to Boswells.

"(Ian's son] Mark must have been about one-ish and as we got to Boswells he was sick all over my suit just before I went in for my interview, but it mustn't have affected things."

The head teacher then was Mr Chambers and Ian recalled a particular early run-in with him.

"Our Sarah was born the second in-service day that we used to have at the start of term, before the pupils came back.

"She was born through the night and I phoned in to say I would be late because my wife had given birth to my daughter and Mr Chambers said he would accept that as an excuse with it being an in-service day, but had it been a full school day then it wouldn't have been allowed.

"I don't know to this day if he was joking but I've got a feeling he wasn't."

Changed days indeed. And as the head teachers have changed, from Mr Telfer to Mr Horne and latterly Mr Williamson. So too has the building. From former canteen huts to temporary classrooms alongside Buccleuch Road to the new modern classrooms the school can now boast.



One thing that has remained the same though is Ian's teaching philosophy.

As a history teacher it would be easy to glean this from the wise words that figures from the past have given us: Winston Churchill, Nelson Mandella or John F. Kennedy to name just three.

Instead, he chooses someone altogether different.

He said: "It's all been about fun, the whole thing. I've tried to bring fun in all the way through and my philosophy in life comes from Mary Poppins: 'With every job that must be done there is an element of fun'.

"It's a balance, but you've got to have a bit of fun, have some serious and a bit from the heart and that's the Landles formula, when it comes to speaking as well and life."

Of course, as he walked out the door on Friday Ian left a number of lasting legacies: the annual Burns Supper which has been ongoing for the last 20 years, the ghost tours in Edinburgh for senior pupils and the various Common-Riding competitions, both poetry and quiz. But arguably his greatest has been the battlefield tours, although again, even this had a fairly inauspicious start back in 1982.

He said: "I'd never been abroad and I took 43 pupils with me the first time I'd crossed the English Channel myself.

"It was an unmitigated disaster from beginning to end. It rained solid for five days. Two boys bought a bottle of vodka and went into the ferry cinema and had to be carried out. They bought bangers which they let off in the sanctity of the Commonwealth War Graves Cemetery. Two boys got caught shop-lifting in Brugges and we had armed police on the bus, and this was all on the first trip, it's a wonder we ever did it again."

But they did do it again, and almost 20 times since. And in September there will be 83 pupils taking the trip, which has also developed into adult tours as well.

It is on home soil, however, where Ian has made the biggest difference. And just like Bob Elliot and Rob Lyle were great influences on him, he too has been a great influence on many Teries.

It is a mutual appreciation. For as much as he was humbled to receive a special surprise leaving party from his Higher pupils, complete with banners, presents and a card with kind sentiments, it has also been a pleasure for him to see boys and girls becoming men and women.

He said: "We all bring our own interpretation into doing things. We all do things differently and I've somehow evolved this style.

"It reaches its audience in the after-dinner speaking, but the difference between that and teaching is that you're more or less guaranteed that folk will listen. In the school you're not and you have to win their respect by other means before they'll listen.

"It doesn't work with everybody. There are some classes you can't have fun with and some you don't win, but fortunately most of them I have won. I've won them over and I have them singing and doing all things.

"You get a lot of pride seeing boys and girls who you've had some influence on doing well and getting on in the world.

"You have your sad things as well, when you read in the paper and it's sorry to see that things haven't gone well for some folk and they've lost the plot a bit.

"But overall it's hugely satisfying."

Early retirement may have been accepted, but Ian still plans to be busy and as well as "one or two things planned with Alan Brydon", he is also heavily involved in the Vision 2014 project, has his battlefield tours to lead, countless after-dinner speaking engagements and the odd game of golf over the Vertish.

And he hopes to write about his own personal experiences in his beloved Hawick, while he has his name down for supply teaching just in case the school comes calling.

Ian joked that he would've liked to have marched out of the school on Thursday, but because of a pain in his back he would more than likely be shuffling out.

One thing is for sure. He could walk out with his head held high after a job very well done.