The rebellious teen who became a French Sir

When recently retired education specialist, teacher, and former Department of Basic Education official David Silman stood before French Ambassador David Martinon last month to receive one of France’s highest honours, he could scarcely believe he was there. 

“The fact that a shit-stirrer like me can end up getting a knighthood is beyond any kind of understanding,” he said. “How is it possible?” 

On 26 May, Silman was awarded the rank of Chevalier in the Ordre des Palmes Académiques, one of France’s oldest and most prestigious distinctions. Established by Napoleon Bonaparte in 1808, the order recognises outstanding contributions to education and culture and is considered the French equivalent of a knighthood. 

“It’s a rare honour,” he said. “There are very few South Africans who have received this.” 

Accepting the award, Silman reflected on the role education plays in transforming lives and thanked France for its support of educational initiatives in South Africa, including curriculum development, technical and vocational education, and the production of Ocean Studies textbooks for Grades 10, 11, and 12. 

“The Order of Academic Palms is more than a medal,” he said in his speech. “It’s a symbol of the enduring power of knowledge, of the belief that education transcends the limits imposed by personal, national, and societal boundaries, and that it improves the quality of people’s lives.” 

As he was receiving international recognition for a lifetime in education, Silman’s thoughts returned to the person he believes made that life possible, former King David Linksfield principal Elliot Wolf. “Elliot Wolf actually saved my arse by taking a chance on me,” he said. 

Silman describes himself as “a cautionary tale that turned out okay”. 

The story began nearly five decades ago when, as a teenager, Silman found himself struggling to find a school willing to give him another opportunity. “At that point most schools wouldn’t even grant me an interview,” he said. King David Linksfield did.  

Silman sees that decision as one of the defining moments of his life. “Wolf looked past the expulsions and saw I wasn’t a lost cause ‒ just a kid who needed a line in the sand and a chance. 

“Had he not done that, nothing I’ve done would have been possible. Nothing good I’ve done would have been possible. That’s a debt I can’t repay.” 

The years that followed would take him far beyond the classroom. 

Silman built a career spanning more than four decades in education, first as a teacher and later as a curriculum specialist and senior education official. He became known for his outspoken views and his willingness to challenge decisions he believed were wrong. “I’ve been a troublesome bugger most of my life,” he admitted during his acceptance speech. 

His reputation for speaking his mind often brought him into conflict with authority, making the knighthood all the more unexpected. “I’ve been a prolific critic of our current and former government,” he said. “It would never occur to me that that would put me in line for any kind of recognition, never mind a knighthood.” 

Reflecting on the honour, Silman was characteristically modest. “I’m just a school teacher,” he said. “I’m not some big deal. I’m just an ordinary guy who obviously caught people’s attention from time to time.” 

That humility was evident throughout his acceptance speech, in which he acknowledged the role played by family, colleagues, and friends. He paid particular tribute to his wife, Fiona, whom he described as the “tolerator of my all too many imperfections”, as well as his children and grandson. 

But when discussing the knighthood, it’s Wolf’s influence he returns to most often. The French Republic may have bestowed the honour in recognition of a lifetime’s contribution to education, but Silman believes the foundations were laid many years ago in the principal’s office. 

The lesson, he said, extends far beyond his own story. “If you’re dealing with a kid like me, don’t write them off too quickly,” he told guests at the ceremony. “Sometimes the worst troublemakers just need the right place to land.” 

For Silman, the ceremony at the French embassy marked the culmination of a remarkable career. Yet in his telling, the journey to becoming a knight began long before curriculum reforms, government appointments, and international recognition. It began when someone chose to see potential where others saw only problems. And nearly 50 years later, Sir David Silman has not forgotten it.