Catching the teaching bug

Sir — I always detested the word retirement and have given it a wide, wide berth — way off over the dim horizon…

It only seems like a couple of years ago since I trained in Mary I and graduated as a fully fledged primary teacher in 1973. All my hopes, dreams, aspirations from childhood realised — I was on the crest of a wave. Growing up in West Kerry, choosing to be a teacher was viewed as a very noble career.

I was hit by the bug very early in life. My late parents would recall memories of dolls, teddies, neighbours’ children lined up in their “classes” and any available wall, or boards, were used as a blackboard for tables, the primary cert exam, and call “the rolla”.

I suffered from travel sickness and knew I could never travel on a bus to Dingle or Tralee secondary schools. I worried about attaining a Leaving Cert, which would be the first step into teacher training college if the required amount of honours could be realised.

Countless novenas were made, St Jude stormed with a plea to come to my aid and help me find another route that would lead me on to that particular path I had aspired to... that saint of hopeless cases did come on board in such “an-out-of-the-blue” manner.

My parents, who always stressed the importance of education, were discussing my plight and asked how I would feel about going to Colaiste Ide, the only all-Irish boarding school for girls in the country.

This boarding school was a preparatory college to train teachers in the beginning of the last century and had a reputation for high entrants to Mary Immaculate Training College.

This was an answer to my fervent prayers.

I was very conscious that 90 guineas in fees, every year, would create a big hole in my parents’ small pockets — who were farming 40 acres on the foot of a hill which didn’t yield many green pastures and therefore “guineas” would be very, very scarce.

But they were both very selfless, hard-working people and I owe them so much today for the huge sacrifices they made in ensuring I wouldn’t be deprived of a secondary school education.

Unquestionably, they are the reason I have enjoyed a wonderful career for the last 45 years. I feel grateful, lucky and indebted.

The word “retirement” has raised its ugly head and entered my domain, blocking me in that path which I thought had no finishing line… it is for real… only a matter of weeks.

In September, my world will be a semi-silent place. The laughter, fun, constant buzz and chirping in an infant classroom will no longer be… little children running up to me on a Monday morning recounting — the visit to the cousins, the Friesian cow giving birth to Holly, the puppy that nearly got killed, the jobs done for granny, and daddy eating lots of biscuits.

The month of December will be very different.

All those years when I couldn’t wait for this month to arrive and tick it off. It signalled Christmas — my favourite teaching season.

Santa would settle himself into an unseen camera in my classroom and keep teacher up to date on all those who are good and working hard… also point out to me those who were stepping out of line... the Nativity play, those letters to Santa... he never disappoints and I was sure to find that out on January 7.

At spring time, it was the sowing season in the garden, seeds in containers in the classroom, drowned with water; experiencing the joy of a child reading that first book, getting a star, winning the race or prize in the raffle, baking and making the chocolate biscuit, cake or flap jack... all the time observing children blossoming, progressing, reaching milestones.

All will be no more, but I go on my way and be ever grateful for fruitful, fulfilling years. Mary Carr,

Golden, Co Tipperary