ABSTRACT
My first lecture as a student was a wretched experience. With 199 other students I counted myself lucky that I was in the main lecture theatre and not in the overspill room receiving closed circuit television. The lecturer was talking formulae as he came in, and for fifty minutes he scribbled them on the board as he talked, and we all scribbled more, in a desperate attempt to keep up with his dictation. My first lecture as a teacher was no better. For this group, I had a syllabus listing thirty or so topics, and a timetable of three lectures a week. Fresh from finals and desperate not to bore the seventy-odd engineering students with the trivia of introductory complex analysis I prepared reams of notes from several textbooks and my own scribbled lecture notes, entered the room talking formulae, and scribbled them on the board as I went.
