School could make you happy or unhappy, recalls Mary McAleese. It depended upon the teachers.

I've always believed that it was no accident that I became a lawyer and my three sisters all became nurses. Our school - the Convent of Mercy Primary School - was sandwiched between Belfast's Crumlin Road Prison, the Mater Hospital and Crumlin Road Court House. The landscape of our early schooldays was dominated by these enormous Victorian buildings which entered our psyches in some subliminal way.

My time in primary school was schizophrenic: I had both happy and unhappy years. It depended entirely upon the attitude of the teachers. Some were wonderful and when I was happy I danced in to school, but when we had teachers who were angry or dreadfully bitter I would go in with a lump in the pit of my stomach.

In those days - it was 40 years ago - there was a lot of slapping and hitting of children. It was regarded as normal but I was terrified in that environment and felt its unfairness deeply.

For second-level I moved to St Dominic's High School on the Falls Road. The Dominican nuns were against corporal punishment and the atmosphere was more relaxed. I look back on those days with great fondness. I grew in confidence and articulateness. It was a place where you were encouraged to express your thoughts.

I had a long journey to school. We lived at the top of the Shankill Road and whenever I walked through the park I used to carry a hurley to defend myself against sectarian attacks. Belfast was very dangerous at that time. The first time I heard the word `Fenian' was when it was used against me in the park.

Growing up, I always lived in exclusively Protestant areas. Our neighbours on the Shankill Road were wonderful people and whenever I went to the park to play on the swings I was always accompanied by Protestant friends.

The staff at St Dominic's were great role models and it's no accident that so many of my colleagues went into the caring professions. The teachers were terrific. I'm always fired by people who are enthusiastic about their subjects but who can bring people on by being kindly and caring rather than by bullying and clamping down on them.

I was the eldest of eight children and in my final year at school my mother produced her ninth child. She was in poor health and my father was working extremely hard running the pub. I had to get the other children off to school, help with the baby and study for my A Levels.

In the two months before the exams Miss O'Friel, our English teacher, would call to the house every morning in her battered Morris Minor, take me across town to school and return me home in the evening. She never said anything, but she gave me a wonderful feeling that as a person I was valued and what I did was important.

Miss O'Friel was a key player in my life - she kept me focussed and taught me how one person's attitude to you in your life can be seminal. At school I loved debating, history, English and Spanish. It was here that I was introduced to Lorca, the great Spanish poet. I first visited Spain when I was 15 and fell in love with it - it's a dimension of my life that was sparked at school and is still with me.

My parents always wanted me to go to university. Neither of them had had second-level or university education but they believed that it was through education that their children would have a decent future. Our house was always awash with books and newspapers and both parents were great readers. They inculcated in us a sense of respect and reverence for education.

I loved Queen's University, where I studied law, from the first moment. No matter how many times I pass through the Lanyon Building, I still get the same flutter in my stomach I got on my first day.

Professor Mary McAleese is pro-vice-chancellor of Queen's University, Belfast. She is Fianna Fail's candidate in the presidential election.