Trip Down Memory Lane

Memories of a Past Teacher
Mary A. Madden (nee Keane)

It was a Friday morning, September 29th, 1950. I was on my bicycle to Drim National School to start my teaching career there. In those years, there weren’t many cars on the roads, so my thoughts were full of anxious anticipation about the day’s work ahead. Then the stillness was broken by the sound of the mill grinding corn as I passed by Riordans’ shop. A group of men chatted as they waited for their bags of meal which would be carried home in the horse-and-cart. A few house-wives were busily arranging their baskets of week-end shopping on their bicycle carriers.

Drim N.S. 1950 -'51

Then suddenly, Drim School came into view as I came around a bend on the road.“Here I am, Lord!” I approached the front door and the then principal, Mr Jim Keane, welcomed me as his new assistant. We were to work together for the next eight months, and it was he who guided me through that important first phase of my teaching. Ushering me to my class-room, he introduced me to about thirty children from about five to eight years old. Some wore great smiles of welcome. Others gazed shyly. I was left to it and we settled in very well. They showed me where to hang my coat. They found chalk for me in the cupboard. They told me about their reading lessons. Those children made me so much at home. I hoped that I would be a success for them.
However, as time went on, I got more involved in school-work and getting to know each child. The infants had their cláiríní and chalk and the old reliable márla. Chestnuts and cipíní were used for counting. My visual aids were pictures pasted onto cardboard. My own voice was the audio aid – in full stereo! Some children had quite a distance to walk to school but all did their best to attend.
Those were post World War Two years and we didn’t have all the material comforts of today. There was no running water or electricity. The children took pails of drinking water from a near-by spring well or from Riordans’ pump. The sixth class boys took care of that. The good old turf fire in the grate kept our class-room reasonably warm. Cart-loads of turf were delivered by parents for the winter fire and the children took dry bits of sticks to start it. When there was no fire to boil a kettle, Mrs Kathleen Gardiner from across the road brought in a jug of boiling water for tea. Jack Gardiner also always gave a helping hand when needed. As time went by, we progressed from turf fire to paraffin oil heater which often gave trouble - and then Jack’s expertise was invaluable.
Sometimes, the Inspector (Cigire) gave a surprise visit and stayed for lunch. It was then Mrs. Maureen Riordan sent down sandwiches and a pot of tea, and scones neatly arranged on a tray. God rest her soul. The thoughtfulness, kindness and hospitality of those and other neighbours like Annie Keane RIP I could never forget.

Drim N.S. 1967

From September 1951, my new principal was John Manning from Loughrea. John, God rest him, was extremely helpful to me. He gave me further guidance on the layout of the school syllabus and always had words of encouragement. As a lover of nature, he tenderly cared for his flower plots and shrubs in the school ground. As I came into school each morning, the senior boys were busy attending to flowers and sweeping leaves as John supervised and smoked his familiar pipe. I can still smell the aroma of the tobacco and hear the ‘gobble gobble’ of Mrs Gardiner’s turkeys across the road in the stubble ground.

Fr. Murphy was our school manager during those years. He paid his weekly visit to school and loved to examine my First Holy Communion class. He had a great sense of humour and enjoyed the stories of the young children. But of course, he would never ‘pass’ them on their religious knowledge on the first time being examined. Indeed, they would be left in suspense until the week before their big day. Then, each child made sure all prayers and answers were ready and, I’m sure, never to be forgotten.
John and I worked together for nearly twenty years. His untimely death on Easter Sunday 1970 was a sad day for the school. I acted as principal for nearly two years after John’s death. My assistant was Patricia Hayes (nee Riordan) and we enjoyed working together. I really got to know my senior classes during this time. They were bright and willing to learn. By this time, secondary school education was open to them and the future looked brighter.
I left in November 1972 to continue my teaching in Woodford N.S. In the meantime, another generation has run up and down those school steps. The computers have replaced the cláiríní. Central heating has replaced the paraffin oil heater. Le cúnamh Dé, a new era for the best has dawned.
Beannacht Dé ar pháistí uilig an Droma, agus i líontaibh Dé go gcastar sinn.

My Memories of Drim N.S.
We went to school in our bare feet,
With nothing much to eat,
On the way to Drim School,
This we found really ‘cool’.

The worst memory I had,
Was the day I was bad,
The Master was cold,
Because I was bold.

Instead of a clout,
A duster he gave to hold in my mouth,
And he made me stay,
‘Til the end of the day!
By Catherine Callnan
Memories of a Past Pupil.
Off to school we’d go each day,
Thinking of things on the way
We’d talk and laugh and have some fun,
Sometimes we were late and then we’d run,
Nine thirty came we’d settled down,
No more acting the class clown,
The day was long - we did not care,
The people we met are still here,
In our village it’s small but good,
It is all about our ‘neighbourhood’.
By Ann Gardiner

"My First Day at School"
By Desmond Donnelly. The nicest thing about your first day in Drim School in the late fifties was the six-penny bit (known as the tanner) which you got on arrival. Whether it was a bribe of encouragement or a reward for your first giant step it inevitably led to a celebration in Patch and Maureen Riordan’s shop just up the road. At the lunch play a senior pupil would escort you to convert your tanner into one of the many treats available. The usual choice was a wafer ice cream, which was quite new to the market. When Maureen knew it was that special occasion you got an extra large portion. She always advised that the ice cream should be eaten before returning to the school. Being stubborn by nature, I ignored her advice and decided to spare my special treat. And so I learned my first lesson in the schoolyard when a temporary friend who was only supposed to lick my ice cream got carried away and took a gigantic bite. Immediately my first “Seanfhocal” or proverb was learned:
'Eat it while you have it!’

"Memories of My School Days in Drim N.S. 1956 - 1964"
By P.J. Flynn TEACHERS: Mr. John Manning, Loughrea,
and Miss Mary A Keane, Derrybrien - later became Mrs. Mary Madden.
There were five girls and myself in my class. In Mr. Manning’s classroom at sums time, the teacher would sit at his desk and the pupils would do the sums in the sums book. The teacher would have the answer book open on his desk. We would take turns at going up to the master to ask for his pen-knife to sharpen our pencils at the fireplace. “Scian más é do thoil é, a mháistir.” At the same moment you would get the answer of the sums from the answer book. The teacher would never check the sums. He would just ask the pupils to call out the answers and if they were correct he was happy. One day the teacher called us all up to do the sums on the blackboard. We were not able to work out one particular sum, and then he got puzzled. It turned out that the answer in the answer book was incorrect. After this Mr. Manning kept the answer book closed on his desk. The girls then decided to send to Dublin for an answer book, which they got in the post.
Mr. Manning loved flowers. The boys were sent out to weed the flowers, while the girls were at sewing class. He showed them how to sew bulbs and flowers and the difference between flowers and weeds. Anybody who was caught walking on the flower-beds would be slapped. It was a bonus to be sent out to the ‘moot’ flower-beds outside the wall on the road-side where we could not be seen from the school windows, and could watch the people passing on the road.
Another job was to carry cans of spring water from Jack Gardiner’s well. The water was used for drinking and for washing the hall floor.
For lunch we had a bottle of milk, and two slices of brown bread every day. Everyone had the same. In wet weather we ate our lunch in the hall in the school. When the playsheds were built in 1963 it was a great improvement to be able to eat and play in the new building.
The boys had a dare, ‘bet a penny with each other’ to see who would leave their desk, run up, turn ‘on and off’ the light switch at the classroom door and run down again before Mr. Manning saw you. This was easy on the sunny day, but one dark cloudy day I was on the dare, the teacher saw the light flash and I got two slaps for my adventure.
The only hurling pitch we had was in Mick Sheil’s field next to the school. His house was in the middle of the field, and any time we broke a window, he took the sliotar and we were not allowed it back again for six months.
Mrs. Lynch came while Miss Keane went to college. Mrs. Lynch always gave us a lift home from school. One evening when we were passing Joe Duane’s she asked me, what were the vegetable stalks growing in the garden? I answered ‘praties’. She said “never say that, say potatoes.” I never forgot that lesson.
From time to time the boys would have a competition in the toilets - a shooting competition, to find out who could shoot over the seven foot wall. One day the teacher was out to call us in from lunch break, and he stood outside the wall, not knowing the competition was about to start on the other side. While clapping his hands as usual when lunch-time was up, he got an unexpected shower on the head. He looked in the door quickly, and caught the culprit in the act. Only one pupil could achieve this challenge. It was a long time until this competition was held again. The punishment was slapping with the ‘bata’ on the hands. “Dhá lámh le chéile.” The trick was to move one hand lower than the other as the ‘bata’ fell, and then you got slapped on one hand only, or keep your hands up high where he could not reach them easily. Some were better able to do this than others, and it really annoyed the teacher.
Mr. Manning always wore a grey suit, smoked a pipe, and drove an A40 Austin Car. Although he was often very cross with us, I always liked him and shook hands with him the day I left school.

"The New Slíotar."
By Desmond Donnelly. The first new slíotar came to Drim School in the summer of ’64. It was a special gift given to a small boy by Fr. Solan (RIP) for his prompt replies to questions from the green catechism. The little boy was covered in freckles and so he was nicknamed “Barmbrack”. When the priest departed, the master probably, feeling relieved gave us an early lunch play. But we had no time to eat lunch as the new slíotar proved a very popular attraction. It was a real challenge – much livelier and more difficult to control than the old black skud which was made from the tube of a bike. The teams were picked. Timmy and the Gardiners played down while Frances Comar led a bunch of outlaws playing up. It was a ferocious game which had a share of controversy and argument. Without the assistance of a referee, it at times looked like erupting out of control. Then just as the master made his way to call us in to school, Frances Comar hit a rasper of a shot which seemed to be deflected by Barmbrack and the ball went into Mikeen Sheil’s land. We had no time to search properly and anyway there was a travelling circus called the ‘Sullivan’s Road Show’, which had just set up in the field. Reluctantly we returned to our classroom but my mind was still focused on our new tan ball. It was a long hard slog until 3 o’clock. Then we raced to the field – imagine my disappointment to find an unrecognisable half-eaten slíotar – which had been chewed away by a dog from The Sullivan’s Road Show. He was still munching away under the caravan until – with the help of some “Rock diplomacy” – we convinced him to drop it. Then picking up the remains of what was a beautiful ball, feelings of despair set in. Suddenly an old lady peeked her head out. She must have been their fortune-teller because she had very large earrings and enormous eyes like crystal balls. I tried to explain what had happened and at least expected some sympathy. But her attention span was very short. She grabbed my ear and quickly marched me to the gate. Just to make sure I hadn’t any difficulty moving off she gave me another thump and off I went. My journey home that evening was just about as enjoyable as a bareback ride on a hedgehog.
What fool once said, “School days are the best days of your life”?