Teacher's tribute to a brilliant boy

I would imagine that a great many people recalling Damilola will remember the photograph which I've since seen countless times on television and in newspapers. The photo was taken about a week before he was murdered. A happy, smiling boy in mauve uniform who most people never knew. Just another victim.

This is not how I wish to remember him. Nor do I want my memories of the last time I was in his presence to be the prominent ones - the horrific experience of sitting in a fresh, sunlit church as his small, white coffin was carried to the altar by pallbearers amid harrowing scenes.

There are many happier things to remember about Damilola. He arrived at Oliver Goldsmith Primary School in September 2000 and smoothly integrated himself into a class of children of diverse backgrounds from mainly immigrant families. It occurred to me quickly that, although behind in several curriculum areas, he epitomised so many immigrant children with his strong work ethic and enthusiasm.

His academic promise was borne out by the fact that he had made large inroads into the task of catching up, particularly at science and maths. He was eager to adapt to changes around him and took up a healthy interest in computers. He'd often tear through maths tasks to gain the chance of accessing the Children's Encyclopaedia during the free time that followed.

He showed talent in a range of other areas, notably at art. I recall one superb sketch of horses, another of surgeons at work on an operating table, both drawn in his unusual, craggy style - Damilola took huge offence at the suggestion of another, not so skilled in the field, that they were tracings. It was only later I learned the connection between the latter drawing and his own personal desire, spurred by his sister's epilepsy, to become involved in medicine.

He was a very talented sports player. He'd often play basketball in school with children one or two years his junior at lunchtime. Comments made by children after his death made clear just how many younger children liked and looked up to him.

Damilola was one of the most talented and agile goalkeepers I'd seen in six years working in south London schools. He excelled in the position and won man of the match awards in the school football league. The Thursday before he died he produced an astonishing display in repelling what must have been two dozen or so shots on target to deny the league leaders victory. The match was on concrete, and Damilola threw himself left and right, full stretch, to great acclaim from onlookers.

My fondest memory of him at sport was during a game of rounders, just after he arrived from Nigeria. I don't think he'd quite picked up on the fact that in running the bases, you only had to run through them, not too far around them. He hit a mighty drive away down the ground, set off and ran the entire outer perimeter - about twice the necessary distance - with great booming strides and still got in for a home run, arms outstretched. Everyone around was engulfed in laughter, celebration and uproar at the sight of it all.

A keen sense of humour came easily to him. He had quite a few people hanging on the story that his mother knew a lady who, apart from being a close acquaintance of the Queen, had won £1 million on Who Wants To Be A Millionaire? Damilola told them that on the basis of this association, he would be receiving a large amount of money.

He was a terrific practical joker with a fine talent for hoodwinking. Once, Damilola had made it clear to a friend he'd give him £5 if he agreed to meet him at the nearby garage after school. The friend later admitted to having waited more than half an hour before realising he'd been fooled. Damilola played this prank on many children; it was his favourite. Better still is a story that many of his classmates recalled with affection. Damilola had told a number of children he'd brought in a Gameboy to swap at school, the problem being he had hidden it in one of the flowerbeds in school and couldn't find it. This resulted in all of them, including Damilola, digging around the flowerbeds for a week in a desperate attempt to find it. The Gameboy, of course, never existed and the only reason Damilola involved himself in the digging was to keep them all searching.

Like all boys, he occasionally became involved in arguments when standing up to others but retained a keen sense of justice and maturity in accepting mediation and moving on.

He had done very well to adjust to new and strange circumstances of a big school in a new country. However, while he was able to integrate himself well in school he would ultimately fall prey to those born and bred into an area of social and economic deprivation and disillusionment. He was eager to make friends anywhere, but as his aunt later told me, he was far too innocent and happy. He was unable to distinguish the right from wrong crowd when in trouble.

Our hearts go out to his parents. His killing shattered everyone close to him at our school - friends, schoolmates of a variety of ages, teachers and helpers. Paradoxically, the trauma and fallout from his killing has meant that many of the children who knew him well have since evolved into stronger and more rounded characters. But they will not forget as the years pass, that a boy of 10 was left behind.