A beautiful sunny morning. Alighting in Westmoreland Street from the number 11 bus from Ranelagh, I raced across O Connell Bridge turning down Eden Quay and, out of breath from the fags and lack of exercise, I boarded the number 27 bus, a red single decker parked at the terminus beside the river. Still panting, I requested the driver/conductor to drop me at the Artane Roundabout. "Where do you want to go ?" asked the driver. "St. David's, the new school on Kilmore Road" I gasped. "No problem" says he. "I'll drop you almost at the school".

I found an empty seat, lit up another fag and opened my Irish Times trying to look casual and sophisticated. Today the excitement was too much. I couldn't concentrate. The butterflies were tangoing in my stomach. The thrill of it. My first job.

I folded the paper and began to study the other passengers. They were mostly young, male, building workers from the country....judging by the accents. They all seemed to know each other and a chorus of slagging and Yahup ye boyo erupted as each new arrival boarded the bus. The Daily Mirror was the favoured newspaper. This particular newspaper had not featured on any of the training college reading lists nor was it the preferred breakfast reading of my parents. In fact I had never seen it in the 'flesh' until the morning. I sat open mouthed as naked breasts were evaluated and commented upon.

The young man next to me, seeing my curiosity, informed me that the Mirror was great for d'oul horses and the sport. We struck up a conversation. I told him I was starting in the new school in Kilmore Road. He informed me that he worked on a huge corporation building site quite near the Kilmore Road. The bus departed on schedule at 8.20 a.m. According to my calculations I should be at the Artane Roundabout at 8.40 or 8.45. A brisk walk down Ardlea Road should have me at the school by 9.00 a.m. at the latest, giving me plenty of time to meet my colleagues, get my instructions for the day, organise my room and prepare for my charges who were due at 9.30. My geographical knowledge of Dublin in those early days was confined to the area around the city centre, the dance halls and a corridor stretching from Drumcondra to Rathmines ....flatland. Fairview, Donnycarney and Artane were new territory to me. I studied the route with the enthusiasm of an explorer. At Buckingham Street a gleaming fire engine leaving the fire station temporarily halted the traffic. As I looked out the window I noticed we were stopped outside a small hotel called "Arravale". Coincidence !

I knew the owner of that hotel, Eddie Donoghue from Tipperary. I had lunch there on my first visit to Croke Park for a football All Ireland. 1963, Galway and Dublin. My home club was Arravale Rovers and here I was stopped in traffic outside the Arravale Hotel en route to my very first job. "Up Tipp" says I.

Fairview Park in the early morning sunshine was like an oasis in a grey city. The greenness of the grass, the beautiful flowers were a sight for sore eyes. By this time, I had relaxed sufficiently to try to read my paper. It was 8.40 and still no call from the driver. "He's forgotten" I thought. The bloody eejit has forgotten to call me. Panic !

I edged my way up to the driver and meekly asked if we had reached the Roundabout yet. "We're well past it" he hollered, "but we're heading towards that new school you mentioned. I'll tell you when to get off". Relief !

Most of the building workers had departed the bus by this time and were making their ways to the many building sites in the area. Finally I heard "your stop" !

Stuffing my paper into my new bag, I fled the bus in such haste that I neglected to ask the direction to the new school. I needn't have worried. All round me mothers were hauling young children to school. I headed off in the same direction. As I walked I began to look for bearings. I became quite anxious as I noted that many of the children were quite young and indeed some were girls. St. David's was supposed to be a boy's senior school. Panic bells again !

"Are we near St. David's School ?" I asked this woman burdened with three struggling children. "Whah, St. Whah ?" says she. "David's" says I. "Never heard of it" says she. "Hey Katleen" she roared to a woman across the road. "Any school called St. David's around here ?". "Naw, never heard of it" says Kathleen. Double panic !

"Where is it love ?" says Kathleen. "Kilmore Road" says I. "Never heard of that road, not around here anyways" says Kathleen. Ree ha, her friend, thought that Kilmore Road was at the other side of the Oscar Traynor Road, "Where are we ?" I asked. "We're dropping the children to Bonnybrook School" says Kathleen.

Donnybrook !!!!! Palpitations and hyper ventilation ! Shirt collar beginning to stick to the neck, sweat standing on my brow. The wrong side of the city. 9.10 a.m. in Donnybrook and me having left Ranelagh at 7.30 a.m. How did I manage it ? "Are you sure its Donnybrook" ?, I implored. "Ah no love, Bonnybrook" says she, "sure Donnybrook is on the south side" says she. Relief of sorts ! At least I was on the right side of river.

Further enquiries confirmed that Kilmore Road was not too far away ... at the other side of the Oscar Traynor Road. (Strangely enough, I had heard of Oscar Traynor. In my panic, I could not remember the context.) I made my way towards Oscar Traynor Road up past numerous building sites where Northside Shopping Centre now stands. Further enquiries elicited that the Kilmore Road ran at right angles to Oscar Traynor Road. It was now well past nine thirty ...... SCHOOL STARTING TIME. I mentally pictured the Head, Brother Cheevers, doing a staff roll call. "All present except O Braonain". The shame ! The imagination under stress can concoct the most outrageous images and on that morning the pictures I had of the reception that awaited me terrified me.

I passed St. John of God's School at a canter. I remembered being told that these were the neighbours. Not far now ! Ten past ten o clock ! My shirt was stuck to my back.

The school compound was situated at the junction of Ardlea Road and Kilmore Road. The prefabs were surrounded by a high wire fence. As I approached the gate I noticed that the area outside the gate was mobbed by mothers with prams and young children. Through the throng I could just about make out Brother Cheevers and Jim McGinley, the Vice-Principal. They were manning the gate. NO MOTHERS ALLOWED ! They were calling names from lists and assembling the children who answered in groups inside the gates.

They greeted me over the mayhem and welcomed me with a "cead failte romhat go Scoil Daibheid". Relief ! No tongue lashing, no having to explain my stupidity, no embarrassment. (They were obviously relieved to see me arrive.) "Your class are waiting for you!" No hint of reproach. No explanations requested. Oh relief !

I made my way through the assembled mass and squeezed in through the partially opened gate. Jim pointed out my prefab and left me to my own devices. As I approached the hut I sneaked a peep through the window. Curiously, there was no one inside. There was, however, a buzz of young voices. "That's odd" I thought. As I opened the door, the buzz stopped. There, facing me were my class.... all 48 boys sitting on the floor, legs crossed, being supervised from the adjoining room by Gerry Moriarty whose own fourth class were similarly seated. The furniture had not arrived. Teacher and pupils occupied the bare room.

I have very little recollection of what ensued that morning other than calling the roll. Twelve o clock heralded holidays. We all marched our charges to the gates to be collected by the mothers, many of whom were still there from early morning.

We cleared the compound and repaired to the staff room which we shared with the secondary school staff. We sat there drinking coffee and swapping stories and generally trying to establish relationships. Jim McGinley, the experienced man among us, quickly set about creating a good humoured light hearted atmosphere in the staff room. On that first day I came to regard Jim McGinley as a father figure...a roll he fulfilled for me until he retired.

Our banter was rudely interrupted by a sharp knock on the door. As the door opened we heard "Mise an Cigire. Ca bhfuil na…