Moanaghan Man

Moanaghan Man

Sunday 13 August 2017

Above and Beyond

As a tribute to my first teacher, Mrs Anne Callan, who recently passed away, I would like to include the following post. In 2015, I had the huge honour of being asked to write a speech for my former primary school’s 50th-anniversary celebration. (The new school had replaced an older building which had stood since 1888). The following is an edited version of the speech. Sadly, the other teacher mentioned, Mrs Bridget McCole, is also no longer with us. May they rest in peace.


Preparing this has made me realise that I share much in common with the American astronaut, Neil Armstrong. For instance, his first spaceflight took place in the year of my birth. And, less than a year after his small step onto the surface of the Moon, I took a personal giant leap, when, with even smaller steps, I passed through the doors of our school for the first time. 

     The date was Monday, June 15th, 1970. I know this because I remember my brother talking incessantly about England’s defeat to Germany in the previous evening’s World Cup match. Incidentally, I would go on to marry a cousin of one of the England players who participated in that game in Mexico forty-five years ago. If you find the previous statement incredible, I hope it’s due to the coincidence, and not because someone actually married me. 

     I met two wonderful women and great teachers, Mrs Anne Callan and Mrs Bridget McCole for the first time that day, and received a warm and genuine welcome from both ladies. As for the building itself, I loved the newness of the place, the big windows, the different coloured chairs in the classroom, and the magical blackboard. A Saturn V space rocket could not have impressed me more. 

     I do, however, have one unhappy memory from that day, and that was being sick beside Mrs Callan as she was giving a music lesson. As this was the seventies, I was no doubt suffering from an early form of disco fever. For someone who could throw up in front of an entire schoolroom of kids, I was very shy during my initial days at school, but would eventually lose my bashfulness, and contribute my fair share of noise to the ‘Wee Ones’ Room’. To get a sense of what Mrs Callan had to put up with, imagine a youngster with all the decorum of a Sunday Game panellist – then multiply that by twenty. My time at primary school lasted throughout the seventies, and I’d like to give you an insight into Annalitten life during that period. 

    In the 1970s, the boys at our school followed the style of most young men and took to growing their hair long. I would theorise that our long locks were an act of rebellion against older folk. And barbers. We missed more cuts than Rory McIlroy at the Irish Open. It wasn’t just our hair that set us apart from our predecessors and successors. To say our clothes were distinct is an understatement. We were often seen in flared trousers and loud shirts with collars so large, they would embarrass Harry Hill. 

     Colours were different too. Yes, colours. I mean, we had blackboards instead of whiteboards, and our football team’s shirts were blue, not red. One year even the grass was a different hue, changing to yellow in 1976 because Ireland didn’t receive its usual above-average share from God’s watering can. This led to pupils in our school actually praying for some rain in Ireland.     

    That was a summary of the sights of Annalitten in the seventies. The sounds were something else, and the one defining sound was the ‘Annalitten Groan’. An excited groan is the best way I can describe this noise, which would be performed if we knew an answer to a question. Simply putting our hands up was not enough for us. We frequently made the school room sound like a cross between a Wimbledon final and a commercial for laxatives. Looking back, it’s funny how we never realised our chances of being chosen to answer would have increased had we kept our hands down and stayed quiet.

    A short-lived craze for boys appeared in the middle of the decade. Bubble gum picture cards of English Football League players were swapped like telephone numbers on a speed dating night. The deals that took place here would impress a modern football agent. Imagine it. Johnny Giles exchanged for Mike Channon, Steve Highway for Colin Bell, or Don Givens for the entire Luton Town squad. Football card swapping would disappear as quickly as Bay City Rollers fans, going to prove that youngsters can be fickle in any era. 

    Personal memories of this place are too numerous to mention in totality. I will say this: The relatively small events come to the fore as much as the major ones. For instance, I remember reading the school’s set of encyclopaedias as often as I could in order to indulge my passion for the solar system. This interest in the planets led to me being known by the affectionate term ‘Spaceman’ for a few weeks. Told you I had a lot in common with Neil Armstrong. 

     One of my favourite memories of Mrs McCole is when she taught us the poem ‘Daffodils’ by William Wordsworth. She was always a most knowledgeable and enthusiastic teacher, but, in my opinion, she reached new heights that day. Her love of the subject had me entranced. I have happy memories of Mrs Callan too. Perhaps my favourite is when she gave me my first ‘VG’ mark for a piece of writing I did entitled ‘My Clock’. I regard the moment Mrs Callan awarded me that mark as the start of my writing career, so now you all know who is to blame. Seriously, I will be forever grateful to Mrs Callan.

     All through my time here, the Old School stood beside the new one, sending out its own lesson to my subconscious, telling me how fortunate I was to go to a modern, centrally-heated school, to be able to see the local hills and the sky as I learned and to have more study space than the pupils who attended the Old School. To use the words made famous by Bernard of Chartres, Isaac Newton and Noel Gallagher, Neil Armstrong had “[stood] on the shoulders of giants” to reach the moon. We, on the other hand, followed in the footsteps of wee ones. But in their own way, they were giants too. 

     Many of those wee ones were our family and friends. I must add, I was surprised and delighted to learn that my own late mother and uncle had contributed well-written and interesting articles to the Folklore Commission in the 1930s when they were pupils at Annalitten.  

     My fellow pupils and I would use the Old School’s facilities for school concerts in 1978 and 1979 – a poignant coming together of the old and the new. I would return to the Old School as a secondary student in the 1980s, to take part in activities like basketball lessons run by the wonderful Pauline Devlin. I also attended a few discos which brought back memories of my primary school days, because my shyness had returned. This time around, asking girls to dance left me tongue-tied. Although I did get the opportunity to step on a few lassies’ toes, I was most usually found standing motionless in the corner, just like when I played Gaelic football on the school field.

     While today’s celebration gives us the opportunity to remember and thank all those responsible for both the Old and New School and to remember our past pupils, we must also think of our school’s present and future. Today, in Frank and Fiona McDonnell, we have two fantastic and popular teachers, just like when I was here. Let us hope this standard is maintained in the years to come. To present pupils, I say this: If you’re honest and try your best, you will go far – perhaps to the Moon, like Neil Armstrong. 

     Which brings me to the last, and the most important link I have with Neil Armstrong. Both he and I were blessed with brilliant, wonderful teachers. Mr Armstrong went above and beyond once. Teachers like Mrs Callan, Mrs McCole, and Frank and Fiona McDonnell go above and beyond every day. 

© John E. McBride (2017) 

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