Thank God for the pupils who say what we daren't

One of the joys of the multi-class situation occurs in September when the older pupils observe, with wry humour, the new arrivals trying to find their feet in a new classroom, with a new teacher. These wags can get away with comments and assessments which, if verbalised by the teacher, would be deemed insensitive and politically incorrect. When a petulant rookie in second class whined for the Nth time about not being able to find his copy, a sophist in fourth class remarked casually: "Are we going to have to listen to this all year?"

I had to restrain myself from shouting "Snap!"

The staffroom in early September is rather frenetic in a relaxed kind of way. Everybody has so much to tell and so many questions to ask and yet, like the junior infants, we feel we need to ease ourselves gently back into the routine after the long summer break. The priomh oide, wearing saffron shirt, blue slacks and open-toed sandals, has hilarious tales of his week at the Fleadh, peopled with Bohemian characters and Bacchanalian music sessions. Mrs H and Mrs T are deep in conversation about home improvements and both are feeling smugly comfortable with their recently-installed timber floors, which now seem de rigeur in any bourgeois home in this neck of the woods.

There is the inevitable talk, too, of points gained by past pupils and family members. We rejoice in our alumni, who have approximated the magic 600, and we positively glow at the thought of certain of our past pupils entering third-level institutions.

This is what makes our work so worthwhile and so fulfilling. Despite the fact that we have no caretaker, no secretary and a roof leaking steadily into a basin in the hallway, our educational ship has nevertheless weighed anchor, and we have set sail on the calm waters of our pedagogic ocean, hoping for a safe passage for our valuable cargo.

At lunch break, we hear the voice of the priomh oide recounting a pupil's dilemma in the English class: "What is the opposite of gay?"

Now, there's a question. Is it straight or is it lesbian or is it plain, ordinary, dull? Decisions, decisions. . . .