When I was still attending primary school, and I was only nine years old, I had the opportunity to go to the Gaeltacht for three months under a scheme that Gael Linn had at that time. I agreed, without thinking, and then a new adventure began for me. I had no fear – I think I had a love of adventure, which I never lost! This was the first time I left my family and my home. It is not surprising, then, that I remember that time well, even though it happened almost sixty years ago. Rosmuc I traveled to Rosmuc with another boy of the same age as me, a gentle, well-behaved boy. We took one train to Dublin, and the next day, another train to Galway. A Gael Linn representative was waiting for us in Dublin, and he guided us both to accommodation for the night. The next morning, after breakfast, we proceeded to Heuston Station with the representative. He helped us get our train, and we arrived in Galway around lunchtime. Another representative was there to help us get a bus to Rosmuc – our destination. A car was waiting for us in Rosmuc, and another representative was there to drive us to our homes. My house was in Kilbrickan, in Rosmuc. Kilbrickan The lady of the house Máire Bean Uí Ghriallais gave me a warm welcome, and my Gaeltacht adventure began immediately. Bean Uí Ghriallais first gave me a bowl of soup but unfortunately it was so hot that I burned my palate badly with it. It was very painful for a week or so! It was difficult to explain in Irish what happened to me!

After the long journey, I had to go to the toilet. Máire led me out of the house to the ‘donkey's house’ (toilet), but it was pitch black outside. Because of that, I hit my knee against a wall and I was injured again! Although I had a bad start, things got better after that - and I didn't injure myself again either.

This house was not like my house at home. The facilities were very basic. There was no electricity, or central heating or even a telephone. The small toilet was in a hut near the house. There was no bathroom at all. But those things are insignificant compared to the language. I didn't speak much Irish, and when Bean Uí Ghriallais first spoke to me, I didn't even understand a single word she was saying. After a while, my Irish improved, because I had no choice - only Irish was spoken in that area at that time. After a while, I got used to things and also to the way of life, and I was quite happy.

School and Friends

There was no school bus and I had to walk to and from school every day. The school was three miles away from home, and although it was difficult at first, that walk became easy after a while. Although it was difficult to understand the teacher and the students at first, after a month or so I had no problem, and I was as comfortable using Irish as I was with English. In fact, I don't remember much about my school days, because nothing significant happened there.

There were a few other families in the area with kids my age. Whenever I had a chance, I got permission from Bean Uí Ghriallais to go out and play with them. I also spent a lot of time in their homes. It was too quiet for me in my own house, with only Bean Uí Ghriallais herself there.

Music

There were musical instruments in the other houses, and I was fascinated by them. There was a music box (concertina or button accordion) in one house, and a tin whistle in another. The men of the house used to play music from time to time, especially when neighbors visited. I learned a lot of songs by watching and listening to them. It was traditional music, and I was like a sponge, absorbing the language and culture of the country - almost without knowing it!

Time to go home!!

I was so happy in the Gaeltacht that I almost forgot my own family! My period passed quickly, and it was difficult for me to return home. But I had no problem with Irish at school after that, and I had a lasting love for our language and our culture from then on, thanks to my father and Gael Linn.

.

.

When I was in the sixth class in primary school, there was no question that I would attend Coláiste Chiaráin, the school where my father taught. I first had to take an entrance exam, which hundreds of other students were also taking. I was shocked when I found out that I got first place in the same exam. I was even more surprised to learn that I received a scholarship thanks to my results. I was offered a place as a residential student for the next five years, free of charge. What would I do?

Decision Time!

My parents were delighted and said that they would leave the decision regarding the scholarship to me. We discussed the pros and cons honestly together. I didn't have to take the offer, because I didn't live far from the school. Not only that, but I would have a lift door to door every day. Without a doubt, it would have been more comfortable and easier for me to stay at home, instead of the leap in the dark that would involve a new life as a residential student. There were strong arguments for staying at home. Was there any reason to enter college as a boarding student? I thought at the time that there were a few reasons. First of all, 'don't look a gift horse i the mouth'! I won this valuable prize, so why not take it? Secondly, I was an adventurer, and I was never one to turn down a challenge. In any case, if the whole thing fell apart me, wouldn’t I be able to return home again. I remembered my time away from home in the Gaeltacht, and I loved the independence it gave me while I was getting the education of a lifetime. It was not difficult for me to accept the offer. Although my parents were happy for me, they were probably also sad for themselves. After all, their first son was already growing up so fast, and now he would be leaving home on top of that. Perhaps my situation reminded my father of his own situation, when he himself was about fifteen years old and leaving home to attend the seminary school. I think he was of two minds about the time he spent in church-run institutions. Anyway, he accepted my decision without saying a negative word about it. My mother held her tongue too, I guess. Without a doubt, she was conflicted about it. On the one hand, she was sad that she would lose her son from home. But on the other hand, she was very proud of me, and she only wanted the best for me.

New School - New Identity

At the end of the summer, when the school holidays were coming to a close and all the preparation complete, I was very eager to start my new adventures. We collected my bits and pieces and drove to the College to register me as a boarding student. The College staff members welcomed us all and then our parents left. Roll was called and then we, the new residential students, were assigned beds. At first, I was not in a dormitory in the College itself, but outside in Desart Hall, on Lower New Street. But after a few days, I was put into a small dormitory at the College. There were only ten beds in St. Columba's dormitory, compared to a hundred beds or so in the other dormitories in the College. I had a bed and a small locker with a basin of water on top. There was an internal screen between the beds which gave us the least amount of privacy. It was cold in that dorm too, but my bed was just a sheet and thin blankets that were almost worn out. I would have a hard enough life here, in the absence of the physical comfort I had available at home. But things like that didn't bother me, and I continued regardless.

The Custom of Nicknames

It was a completely different life for us in boarding school, as we learned social skills so that we would be able to live in the new environment of the school. Everyone in the school, both teachers and students, was given a nickname, and often the same names were not too flattering. For example there was one student who had an intolerance to gluten. He could not eat white bread and had special brown bread. He was christened 'Brown Bread'. Anyone with the surname 'Ó Murchú' was called 'Spud'. In my case, when it was discovered that my father was a teacher at the school, and nicknamed Peadar, I was given the same nickname. I was quite happy with that, and with the new name and the new people and the new environment in the College, I lost one identity and took on a new identity. In that way, the new life of the school began for me.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.