Our relatives did not come to visit often because they did not live near us. It used to be a long journey for them in the sixties and seventies in the last century. Our relatives on my mother's side lived in Dublin, and our relatives on my father's side lived on the Mullet peninsula in County Mayo. There was no motorway in the country at that time, and the roads were of poor quality.

But from time to time, close intrepid relatives came to visit. They used to have to stay with us for a while, especially when they were coming from the Mullet peninsula, because that journey took one day coming to us and another day going home. When we (my brother, my sister and I) heard that relatives would be coming to visit us, we used to get excited in the days before. Sinful desserts would be available, biscuits of all kinds and delicious meals every day, because my Mum tried to do her best in the kitchen. Also, the visitors always gave us gifts, including sweets. We ate the sweets in an instant, and we were out and about and full of sugar. We were naughty then, running here and there, laughing, shouting and the like. It wasn't long before we were thrown out of the house, so that the adults could talk and chat together. After that, we were not able to spend much time with our relatives, because as soon as my mother saw us coming, she kicked us out without delay. The visitors made no effort to spend extra time with us either – with one exception!

Our Uncle John

When we heard that our uncle John and his wife Evelyn would be coming to visit us, we could hardly sleep. They themselves were childless and I think they treated us as if we were their own children. They brought gifts for everyone in the family, and they had not only sweets but toys and comics for us, the children. We weren't thrown out, either, because John and Evelyn gave us their attention, asking us questions, listening to what we were saying, and spending time with us. We liked them both very much, because we felt that they were interested in us. With most other relatives, we felt that they were not the least bit interested in us, but that we were a pain in the ass.

There is no doubt that Uncle John was the favorite relative for the three of us - my brother, my sister and myself. Although he was a big man - more than 6 feet tall and built accordingly - he was a gentle, bright, deep-voiced man who never had a bad word to say about anyone. He was my father's eldest brother, and my father had a lot of respect for John, no doubt.

The Walk!

Uncle John used to take us (the kids) for a walk to the city center once every visit. But it was not a boring walk, so we were excited about the same walk as soon as they came to visit us. Uncle John didn't lay down for us which route to take through the city, but he gave us that option. I tell you, we always had a great plan. We visited every toy shop and every book shop in the center of Kilkenny, looking into every shop window we could. When one of us would see an interesting toy or book, we would point a finger at it, and say something like: "Uncle John, isn't that a nice toy/book?" There was no need to say anything else and a few minutes later, Uncle John would come out of the shop, with the toy/book in hand.

When Uncle John asked us to wait outside the pub or bookie shop, we had no problem with that. It used to be a secret agreement, and we had the smarts to say nothing about it at home. Uncle John was on his holidays, and who would refuse him having a bit of fun too? As the old saying goes: Let he who is free cast the first stone! By the end of that wonderful walk, the three (four? ) of us would have nice presents, and everyone of us, including Uncle John, would sport a big smile.

We will never forget our wonderful uncle Uncle John, whose generosity touched our hearts. He is a good example for us, this great man who never ignored us as children, but always the opposite. Although I try my best to emulate him, it is not easy, because Uncle John achieved the highest standard, not only as an uncle but as a human being. We miss you very much, our Uncle John!

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There was a teacher in the college named Tomás Ó Murchú, who was originally from Cork. He dressed in colorful costumes and I saw him wearing a red and white striped sweater. Although 'Spud' was the nickname usually given to anyone with the surname Ó Murchú, Tomás got a new nickname thanks to that choice of clothes. This misfortunate man was christened 'Wasp'. He taught us Irish in the first year and without a doubt he had excellent Irish. We found out how appropriate his nickname was before long. Thankfully, Wasp didn't use the cane. Unfortunately, however, he didn't have to use it, as he had a far more damaging punishment – cuts! A single cut from the Wasp cut deeper than a handful of blows from the cane. Isn't that nickname Wasp cruelly ironic, with an evil sting more hurtful than any cane in the world! Wasp only wanted to maintain control over his class, and he had no intention of hurting anyone. We understood that, and were able to aswer his questions without any fear of retaliation. So, it was always a type of game, and without a doubt, you would have to have a sharp mind to get the upper hand against Wasp.

One of us

Wasp was one of us, as he was not much older than the fifth year students. He didn't use the cane either. And he also had a great sense of humor. We were learning Irish, unbeknownst to ourselves, because we used to have fun with Wasp all the time, and we weren't afraid of being beaten. To us, he didn't seem like a teacher, but like a friend. That style was very powerful, in my opinion. Although we were afraid to ask the other teachers questions, or to challenge them in any way, it was not like that with Wasp. We were able to debate with him, without fear or favor. That gave us confidence that we and our ideas had value, and that we didn't have to accept everything without question. Wasp was on our side! He was able to understand us! So, we had a special bond with this unconventional teacher. And we really respected him, and we listened to him and learned from him! Whatever he had to say seemed cool. Looking back, I see that he had a special talent, because he was a kind of mediator, between us and the authorities, between us and the world!

Persona non Grata

I felt like I was a 'persona non grata' or an invisible person. Although I really liked hurling and especially the skills involved in keeping control of the ball, at the same time I was a weakling. I came near death when I was stricken with pneumonia when I was only five years old, and I did not recover until I was an adult. It was not easy to integrate with the community of that school, especially when you had no hurling skills. Your hurling skills were your social currency at Coláiste Chiaráin, and I didn't even have a cent. It was hard to have self-confidence in a situation like that.

Saviour

Wasp recognized that there were a lot of us who didn't want or couldn't get involved in hurling, and decided to do something about it. He used his free time to teach chess, and put together a group to play chess games. Chess came easily to us, and gave an extra-curricular purpose to us who didn’t have the likes before. Wasp was a savior to us who didn’t play hurling. It was a pioneering approach, without question, because such extracurricular activities were not usually available in secondary schools in Ireland at the time. That chess club gave me a lot of confidence in myself, and even though I played hurling with difficulty, the same could not be said about me in relation to chess.

Passed on

I was sad when I read in 2021 the report of his death, written by another former Irish teacher, Micheál Ó Diarmada. Micheál recognized many exceptional qualities of Tomás Ó Murchú, and I learned that Tomás himself never stopped learning. He got a diploma in German in the eighties. After that, he spent a summer with his family in Germany traveling and practicing the language. Finally, he started teaching German at school. He was naturally enterprising, without a doubt. I will never ever forget Wasp, and I will be forever in debt to this pioneering teacher, and especially for what he did for me as regards developing my self-confidence.

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It took me quite some time to settle down as a boarding student at Coláiste Chiaráin, and it wasn't easy in a few ways. Without a doubt, it was cold in the winter, especially in our large dorms, because although there were radiators on the walls, there was no heat in the middle of those rooms. We only had light blankets on our beds, and cold water in our wash basins. The food we got in the refectory was not tasty, except for the desserts! But after a while I got used to those difficulties and after a while they didn't bother me. Unfortunately, I was a small, fragile boy. Therefore, I could not play hurling well as a team member, and whenever I tried, I got injured. But I loved to play handball, because it's not a contact sport. I was a pretty good player, and I really enjoyed that sport during my time in secondary school. The bullies at home were not able to enter the school grounds, and that was a big advantage. I was never bullied at Coláiste Chiaráin, and I think it didn't hurt that my father taught at the same school.

Teachers and Subjects

In primary school,we had only one teacher and we studied a few subjects in primary school - Irish, English, Interests and Religion. To tell the truth, it was too easy for me, and I was fed up with it. It was not like that at Coláiste Chiaráin at all. We had many subjects: Irish, English, Latin, Greek, French, Science, History, Geography, Art and Civics. I really liked all the subjects, and I loved learning all kinds of things. Between one class and the next, we used to have a little break, and when we returned to our classroom, another teacher would be waiting for us to teach us his subject. Each subject presented different challenges, and I could not contain my natural curiosity. I loved using my imagination and seeing pictures with my mind. We had a lot to learn by heart as part of our education, but I wasn't overly impressed with that aspect of it. I would rather understand the reasons and logic behind the information.

The enthusiasm of most of the teachers really inspired me, because they put their hearts and souls into teaching, and that was contagious. Those teachers did not use any corporal punishment because they had the skills to do a great job. That was a source of joy for us, and we were really looking forward to the classes with those teachers. Unfortunately, corporal punishment was common in Ireland at the time, even though it broke the rules of the education department. From my own experience, a few teachers felt that what they were teaching was not for the benefit of the students and often they had no interest in the subject they were teaching either. They would use the rod to force us to pay attention to them because they were rotten as teachers.

Noel's Story

I had one friend at the start at school – his name was Noel. He was a very smart boy, very strong, headstrong even. Well, we had a Latin teacher who liked to use corporal punishment a lot. At the end of each class, he would write vocabulary on the blackboard, followed by a number - 1, 2 or 4. That's how many strokes you would get for each word you got wrong in the exam that would take place in the next class. I well remember the slaughter that used to happen every class. The teacher was soon sweating from the work of administering the cane to the students, and a line of them waiting their turn. Looking back now, it was a barbaric, brutal and unbelievable act. Whatever happened him, Noel got a few wrong at the start of the term, and he was beaten badly. Everything was a mess then, and Noel started a peaceful counter-campaign in protest.

I think Noel didn't study for class from then on. He was beaten badly at the beginning of every class, and I remember him getting 32 strokes, and that happened more than once. But Noel was a very determined boy, and the more he was hit, the less he studied, despite the fact that we had the same teacher for three years! The stubborn teacher didn't stop his beating, either. But the teacher failed to break Noel down, and in that way, Noel thwarted him.

After the Leaving Certificate examination, Noel attended university, graduating with a bachelor of arts degree. He became a primary teacher as his profession and after a while he was appointed as the principal of the school. There’s no need for me to say that he never laid a hand on a child! But there is another twist in the story. One day, when Noel was in his thirties, there was a knock on his door. He opened it, and who was it but his former Latin teacher! The teacher did not recognize the former student whom he physically and mentally tortured at school. But Noel recognized his tormentor instantly! His nemesis began to speak. He was standing as a candidate in a local election and trying to attract votes. "Can I count on you to cast your vote for me?" he asked Noel.

"Well," said Noel, "If you were the last person left in the universe, I wouldn't give you my vote. Go now, you loafer, and never come back here!” His teacher was left speechless, and then he finally recognized his former student. But before he had a chance to say another word, Noel closed the door in his face. As the old saying goes: what goes around comes around!

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After the fact, it is easy to see a small number of defining moments that had a big impact on the direction of your life. In my own life, there are a few of them that have had a strong influence on me. Here are a few.

Introduction

First, I should pave the way, and give you an understanding of the background. I was a weakling when I was in primary school. I was even lucky to be alive, having had a bad bout of pneumonia when I was just five years old. I was sick again when I was seven, and after that my asthma was pretty bad. Therefore, I was not involved in field sports, unlike most of the students in the school. But I had a hunger for knowledge about everything, but especially about science. I got copies of 'Look and Learn' magazine every week, and I read everything in them. I was fascinated by the mysteries of the universe, and it was hard to believe that the stories in that magazine were true. But they were! It was unbelievable to me that we were all traveling on an insignificant little planet, revolving around an insignificant star, in an insignificant galaxy in the vast universe itself. When I looked up into the sky, I saw the stars and galaxies up there, and I knew even as a boy, that I was looking far back millions of years. That's a big concept for a little boy, and it gave me a comprehensive understanding of humanity and our small role in that big universe.

Inspector!!

One day, when I was in sixth class in primary school, an inspector came to visit. He was monitoring the class for a while, and writing notes. Then, he stood up and walked to the top of the class. He introduced himself to us, and then started asking us questions. Many pertained to Science and maths – playgrounds for me. The questions got harder, and before long, no one but me could answer them. I was able to answer them all. I remember a few of them well: How far is the sun from us? What is air pressure and what is the air pressure at sea level? The inspector was very surprised that I was able to answer his questions, and he praised me and said that it was the first time a sixth class student had been able to answer them. I was ecstatic. The inspector’s respect had a strong affect on me and it occurred to me that I had a great interest in science and mathematics and that they are worthwhile activities. At school and in the society around me, I saw how worthwhile sport was, and especially hurling. But now, I realized that there was a place for people like me, who were interested in learning, and that was a good thing, despite the opinions of many boys in the class. I felt reassured. It was only once in one day in primary school, but in that hour, some unknown inspector lit the flame of my interest in learning - a flame that grew over time, and a flame that encouraged me to concentrate on scholarship.

Confirmation

I don't remember exactly when Frank Dowling came on the scene as a new student - maybe in sixth class, or maybe in the first year in secondary school. Like the inspector, although he wasn't there for long, he had a big impact on me. He spoke with an English accent, as his family had just moved from England to Ireland. Unlike the other students, Frank did not play hurling, and was very interested in science. I could hardly believe that there was another youngster like me. Before long, there was a special bond between us. We used to have lively debates on science topics, and I learned a lot from him. I knew more about certain subjects in science and he knew more about certain other subjects in science. We were always learning from each other, which inspired both of us. I remember one time in particular, when Frank asked me pointing to my desk: "This table – do you think it's solid?" I replied that it was strong and solid. “Wrong!” said Frank. "There is nothing but empty space, and elementary particles whizzing to and fro, traveling through space at the speed of light!" I was taken back, because what he said went against everything my senses were telling me. But things are not as they seem, and I knew that everything was made of molecules; molecules made of atoms, and atoms made of electrons, protons and neutrons. So, what Frank said made sense, but I had never put those pieces of information together before. It gave me a great insight and I then realized that all aspects of science were very interesting to me, from things so small that they cannot be seen, up to things so big that they cannot be imagined.

Random Teachers!

The few random encounters mentioned above had a big impact on me, no doubt. The people in question did not ignore me completely, but (instead) they gave me recognition and praise and more importantly, they reinforced my attitude about science and its value. Therefore, my self-confidence and interest in science increased from that time. Looking back, it strikes me how important other people are in your life, apart from your teachers and even your parents. I believe in the old saying from the Buddha: "When the student is ready, the teacher will appear!"

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It is a pity that I had no sense or experience when I was a boy. If I had been more sensible, I more than likely wouldn't have been bullied constantly for years.

Bullet Head

I didn't have a lot of self-confidence as a boy, because I was a weakling. I was a small, short boy, and I had asthma to top it all off. Or, to put it another way, I was a bully's dream, with little chance of being able to stand up for myself.

I couldn't do physical feats, but I was loose tongued enough. So, I was able to call people bad names and throw insults at them. There were a lot of boys living in a housing estate near the Waterford Road, where I lived. Once, I met one of them, named Paddy Banahan, and I immediately noticed that he was almost bald, because he had received a buzzcut, which you rarely saw at the time. So, I called this guy Bullet Head, a nickname I screamed at the top of my voice the next time I saw him. I was happy with myself after that, and then I put it out of my head. Unfortunately, the damage was done, and there would be a high cost to pay for that bit of fun, I must admit!

Quinn looking for me

There was (and still is) a housing estate called Larchfield within a donkey's squeal of the Waterford Road. Usually, when I was going down to town, I would go through the same estate as a shortcut. The next time I went through the estate, I was met by a small contingent. In the blink of an eye, I was surrounded by them, with no way to escape. My heart almost jumped out of my chest with fear, but I was trapped. The leader was a boy named Tommy Quinn, and the other boys were in supporting roles. Quinn began with my interrogation. Where was I going? Why? Was I kidding him? Looking at him? Questions like that, imposing his authority on me in front of his squad. My answers didn't matter, because he didn't accept them at all. Suddenly, he hit me in the gut, and I couldn't stop him. He then continued, asking me questions and then giving me a proper beating. Before long, I was in a heap on the ground with my nose bleeding, and I was injured and in severe pain. Then they all attacked me and beat the shit out of me. The demons left as quickly as they came, and they left me on the ground, in a bad state. It was a great way to get to know my neighbors!

Lessons Learned

In the school of life, lessons occur all the time, but you need to pay attention to learn them. If you don't learn a lesson, you will make the same mistake over and over again until you do learn it! I learned a few lessons from this bad experience, and I never forgot them afterwards! They were captured well in a few proverbs, as it turned out!

Do unto others as you would have others do unto you!

I had no idea that there would be ongoing implications after I picked on Paddy Banahan. I hurt him, because I called him an ugly nickname, for no good reason. I bullied Paddy, because I thought he wasn't strong, and wouldn't be able to get revenge. Didn’t I misread that story! And doesn’t pride go before the fall too! Despite my cleverness at school, I was quite naive in other ways. In any case, I had no idea what the consequence of my foolishness would be, or why.

Look before you leap!

Decades later, I know very well what happened and why. We belonged to different classes, me and Paddy – with me in the middle class, and Paddy and their neighbors in the estate in the working class. When I insulted Paddy, himself and his friend took it that I was insulting them all. They thought I was acting in a superior way, as a middle-class boy. I did not understand the kind of connection between them, and more importantly, I did not understand the primal instinct that I had awakened in them. I didn't realize, either, that the class in question had different rules and different values. In particular, violence was more common and more acceptable in the working class than in the middle class. I was completely ignorant of matters like this, and I paid dearly for that mistake.

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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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