Among School Children

Mairtin O' Direain

I walked the length of the Study Hall. The Pre Leaving Irish was on. Most of the boys were writing, or reading the examination paper. It was early February and as I looked through the long sash windows I thought of the lines from Yeats' poem: Among School Children:

I walk through the long schoolroom questioning;
A kind old nun in a white hood replies;
The children learn to cipher and to sing,
To study reading-books and histories,
To cut and sew, be neat in everything
In the best modern way - the children's eyes
In momentary wonder stare upon
A sixty-year-old smiling public man.

A hand is raised and I move towards the expectant face. More paper.

The well worn parquet floor catches my eye, as it always does and I am reminded of the many feet that have trodden these ancient boards.

My gaze falls on the blue examination paper. The words: An tEarrach Thiar, gradually come into focus. I stoop to read further. I turn to the boy,

"I did that poem myself when I was at school" I say to him, quietly.

"Any hints sir ?" he asks, with a smile on his face.

"Is it by, O' Direain?" I enquire.

"Haven't a clue, sir." he adds.

I move away. An t Earrach Thiar....

.....Fear ag glanadh cre ,

De ghimsean spaide,

Sa  gciunas sheimh

I mbrothall lae.....

...... A man cleaning clay
From the back of a spade
In the gentle quiet
Of a sultry day:
Sweet is the sound
In the Western spring.....(the Irish language version is truly lost in the translation.)

Classrooms above a chapel. We were in our Third Year.  Fr. Peadar Lavin for Irish....An Tarbh (The Bull)..we called him, secretly.....deciphering An tEarrach Thiar. The images conveyed by the language seeped into the depths of my memory and have lain there dormant until reawakened that morning, so unexpectantly. Clarity, vibrancy of colour, light, silence broken by turned clay, water splashing, womens voices. The world washed clean by the Atlantic seas and the bright sunshine.

Another raised hand, "More paper, Sir".

And My great school friends, Eddie and Jarlath(Chuck).....do they recall reading....

 

Fear ag caitheadh
Cliabh dha dhroim
Is an fheamainn dhearg
Ag lonrú
I dtaitneamh gréine
Ar dhuirling bháin.
Niamhrach an radharc
San Earrach thiar.

.... A man tossing down
A creel from his back
And the red seaweed
Gleams in the sun
On the white shingle
Glorious the sight
In the Western spring.

We, had all the adventures of young men, earnestly discussed  important things, lived football and loved music and girls........argued....

Mná i locháin
In íochtar diaidh-thrá,
A gcótaí craptha,
Scáilí thíos fúthu:
Támh-radharc síothach
San Earrach thiar.

....Women stand in the little pools
At low ebb tide
With skirts tucked up
Casting long shadows
On the peaceful scene
In the Western Spring.

.......and the school bell rings. My replacement arrives. I transfer my sheafs of writing paper to her, say something and I walk away towards the pale green door.

The corridor is quiet. Fr. Lavin's reading of the final stanza comes flooding back.

Toll-bhuillí fanna
Ag maidí rámha
Currach lan d’éisc
Ag teacht chun cladaigh
Ar ór-mhuir mhall
I ndeireadh lae
San Earrach thiar.

......Gentle lapping of oars
As a currach full of fish
Comes towards the shore
On a calm golden sea
At eventide
In the Western Spring.

Chuck has the ball under his arm....Eddie is calling me...."C'mon or we won't get a back alley.