Recollections of Irishtown School
by Peter Ryan, Castlereagh
Taken from Irishtown Centenary Book
As far back as I can remember anything, I can remember my first days in Irishtown National School, where I was enrolled as a scholar at the age of four years in the year 1922. The school was divided into two parts, the outer part, where entrance was gained, was reserved for the senior classes and the inner part, much smaller, for the juniors. The school had a northern aspect and coupled with the fact that it was overshadowed by the nearby RC Curch it seldom or never got any ray of sunshine.
L/R: Fr. John Ryan, Peter Ryan, Jerry McTigue and Joe Ryan
on Ryan Farm, Castlereagh, Ballindine July 1995
I hasten to add that the inner classroom where the juniors were was always bright and cheery as it had a southern aspect and got all the sunshine that came. The floors were of wood and the walls were wainscoted to about five foot in height, all the rest was plain white-washed walls running to the ceiling of lath and plaster, which was also white. Two massive structures of wood supported the roof, wherein was imbedded a ventilator which gave out a weird sound when the wind rose to gale force. One wall was hung with maps and the other two supported three long high windows each, which gave adequate light to the room.
There were four heavy wooden desks mounted on equally heavy metal frames for the senior classes and three of the same for the junior classes. Round two of the walls ran a wooden structure which could serve either as a seating or as desks as occasion demanded and if the latter, there were a number of low forms which could be used for seats. There was also a press, heavy table and chair for the necessary use of the master or mistress. There was also an easel which supported a black board in the senior room and a swinging blackboard in the junior room.
At the same time the sexes were segregated, one half of the school being reserved for girls and the other for boys and fraternisation was frowned upon by teachers and priests.
Two turf fires, one in each class room, gave a totally inadequate rate of heat for such a vast area of space, and in Winter, the senior classroom in particular, was little better than an Eskimo's igloo. The turf was provided by the families of the scholars.
My impression of these years is one of gloom and hardship and without any redeeming features to look back upon with joy and pride. These years also saw the first native government in power and one of its priorities was the restoration of the Irish language. This added a huge burden to teachers and scholars outside the Irish speaking districts as the former and latter were brought up in English speaking households. The frustration of teachers and scholars was such that the cane was often resorted to, to break the tension.
Malnutrition, and if not actual starvation, was rampant in the Ireland of the late 20s showing in pinched nostrils and high cheek bones and in the inability to withstand any infection either great or small. (I have seen boys with used tea leaves in lieu of butter on their bread). Hygiene in school was unknown and the sanitary arrangements were disgraceful and would not be out of place in Belsen. The play fields were not satisfactory and let to trespassing on lands held by the Land Commission for division but this was overlooked by that body for the general good.
Arithmetic, writing and reading were the main subjects and I remember the names of the text books we used, to wit, "Red Blood", "The Dog Crusoe", and "Tales of Great Explorers". In Irish we had a text book of the name "Boru na Tire", a name I could never get a satisfactory explanation for.
These were the years when children went to school bare foot in Summer and Autumn, and shod with clogs in Winter, which though crude looking, were very warm, as the soles were made of wood. My class mates, most of whom were the sons of small farmers, had two burning ambitions, first to be rid of the restraint of school, and the second was to join their kinsfolk, older brothers, uncles and sometimes parents, in the sweat fields of Yorkshire, Lincolnshire and other agricultural Counties of England. About two percent of all boys in our school in a ten year period went onto Secondary Education as their parents could not afford it. Their Spartan childhood had, in a way, prepared them for an adult life of hard manual labour and the fittest and strongest eked out a life at bare subsistence level, while the weakest fell by the wayside. In brief, it was not a good time to be a child and it was little better to be an adult.
A childless couple, Mr. Michael Slattery and his wife, Tess, were in charge of the boys school, he taught the senior classes an she taught the junior boys. They were an excellent pair, religious to the point of fanaticism, scrupulously honest, they led lacklustre lives and in due course died and were buried in Irishtown New Cemetery. May they rest in peace. Mrs. Noonan, who was also a religious zealot, was in charge of the girls school, where she taught the senior classes and her niece, Kate Noonan, later Mrs. McManus, was in charge of t he juniors. These had passed away many years ago and were interred in Kilvine and Irishtown cemeteries, Mrs. Noonan in Kilvine and Mrs. McManus in Irishtown. May they rest in peace.
Round the wall in the senior classroom hung a series of pictures depicting the history of the Irish race. The first was of the primitive Irish slaying a large deer. The second was of the Danes coming ashore from their dragon shaped ships, with horrid horned helmets, attacking the meek looking Irish. The third was the Normans issuing from a castle draw-bridge on horse back with flags and pennants flying and watched over by another Norman guarding the draw-bridge. The pictures changed again showing Shane ONeill in native Irish dress at the court of Queen Elizabeth I and the last that I remember was "To Hell or to Connaught", showing a Cromwellian soldier in helmet and jack boots reading the proclamation banishing the Catholic Irish landed gentry to Connaught on pain of death. To add urgency, it was accompanied by the sound of trumpet and the roll of drums.
A totally unrelated picture of a chimpanzee, which hung over the entrance to the junior classroom was, to our infant minds, a picture of the devil and we reassured ourselves and anyone that would listen that a picture of Satan was on view in our school.
Another incident which gave us some concern at the time was one regarding a clock that hung on the wall behind the masters table and was regarded by the "missus" as a kind of icon, sacred to the master, and it would not work without his personal attention. One day when the master was absent from school and the "missus" was in charge but had gone into the junior classroom, my late brother James went up to the clock, fiddled with the pendulum and stopped it from ticking. The "Missus" on returning to the classroom noticed the clock had stopped and on enquiring found the culprit. She foretold dire consequences when the master returned. On returning home that evening a boy from the area came up to James and consoled him by the following statement; "sure it would bound to fail, wasnt failure writing on the dial?" This boy was no expert in spelling and he was confusing "Faller", the name of the clock maker, with failure. In after years the "master" and myself had many a good laugh about this incident.
For more article from the Ballindine Post and information on ordering see the Ballindine Post home page.
