Autobiography 3 – Kilkenny!

We moved once more, because my father got a job at St. Kieran's College in Kilkenny. I had no problem with that, and I was really looking forward to the big day. That day finally arrived and we were off to Kilkenny!

We rented a flat on Dublin Road and I attended St John's national school during that time. It was harder to get used to school at first, because I didn't understand what anyone was saying, and no one understood me, either. I remember my first week at school and we were out in the yard playing. The children were making fun of me, and I was like a trapped fox in the corner of the yard, all the children gathered around me, asking me to speak, so that they could imitate me and laugh at me. I didn't expect this, but I put up with it, because really, I had no second choice. The children had never heard my accent from the north side of Dublin before. I hadn't heard their dialect before, either. But, as soon as I was able to communicate more effectively, I had no problems making new friends. I need not say that I soon lost the Dublin accent, for nothing is more important to a young lad than to be able to fit in with his company.

After half a year or so, my parents bought a house on Waterford Road on the outskirts of the city, with St. Kieran's College close by. I started attending a new school, St. Patrick's National School on Cootes lane in the Village ('Village'), and I would walk to school every day, and even home at lunchtime. My father came home for lunch too, and it was nice for our family to be together like that in the day.

St. Patrick's School was a small national school, and I remember that two classes were held in the same room, with one teacher in charge. I well remember Brother Abban who was my first teacher. I thought he was very old, and I was surprised that someone of that age would still be alive. He was younger than I am now, no doubt!

At that time, there used to be corporal punishment in schools and especially boys' schools. Boys were usually sent to one school and girls to another. Often, men taught the boys, and women taught the girls. Boys and girls used to have different curricula, too.

Almost every teacher in the boys' schools used to have torture devices, and it was thought at the time that it was necessary to use punishment to discipline boys so that they would grow up to be strong men.

Abban's torture device of choice was an ash stick. I was scared when I saw Abban hitting a student in class for the first time. Maybe the student got the wrong answer to a question Abban asked him, or maybe he wasn't listening in class, or maybe he forgot his homework. Anyway, the poor student was shouting, begging Abban to stop, and trying to withdraw his hand, but his efforts were fruitless. Fortunately for me, I rarely got the rod, because I loved learning at school. But I felt sorry for every student whom he hit and I thought there was something wrong with that terrible practice. It was also difficult for me to understand how cruel God's representatives could be. Wasn't such behavior just against the teachings of the church?

Abban's other cruel practice added insult to injury. When his ash stick broke after a while, he asked his next victim to cut him a new stick, from the ash tree that was next to the school. Unbelievable!

Although we were weak, we took revenge on Brother Abban, another thing that contradicted the teachings of the church. But we couldn't care less about that!

There was a glass of water on the table in front of Abban, and he took a sip of water from time to time to wet his mouth. Whenever the glass was empty, Abban asked some student to get him a new glass of water. We also noticed something else about Abban – he was losing his eyesight. As it turned out, there was a pond outside the school near the ash tree and it had frogspawn and even tadpoles in it in the spring. These facts paved the way for playing a trick on Abban.

Once, when Abban asked a student to cut him a new rod, he did so but then caught a few tadpoles and put them in a bottle. Abban hit the student with the new rod as he was wont to do and continued to teach the class. After a while, having drunk the glass of water, he asked another boy to get a new one. Abban didn't see the student he hit, handing the bottle to the student who was getting him a drink. He did not see that student put the tadpoles in the glass. And he didn't see the tadpoles swimming in the glass when he lifted it to get a swig of water, either. Abban huffed and let out a big sigh. Then he continued to teach. We laughed and couldn't hold back. With every new rod he got, Abban got a few unwanted tadpoles. We justified our terrible misconduct with the idea that it was retribution for a crime. Maybe we were wrong to do that trick, and we did it over and over again until the metamorphosis was complete and each frog was a new frog! Unfortunately, the one thing every student in Abban's class has learned is that revenge is sweet.

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