Where `community' is black and white

Many people's preconceptions of what a boarding school is like are based on what they have seen in the cinema or on television…

Many people's preconceptions of what a boarding school is like are based on what they have seen in the cinema or on television, but at Cistercian College, Roscrea, Co Tipperary, the struggle between stuffy, obdurate masters and rebellious youth which is the stuff of screenplay could not, apparently, be further from the truth.

"Every new year teaches you something - and if it doesn't it's time to leave," says Father Kevin Daly, a past president of the school and one of the Cistercian brothers who still have a large part in teaching and management at the school.

One of the attractions of the college, Daly says, is that it offers stability through both its country setting and from the "black and white" - the term for the influence of the monks, drawn from the colours of their robes.

Although there is clearly a spiritual side to this influence - morning prayers start every day and there is also an optional morning Mass - the most obvious impact the monks have is the collegial atmosphere they bring to the school.

READ MORE

"The community dimension is very central to the monastery as a community of men living together, and the school reflects that. There is a huge programme in living together," says Father Peter Garvey, the college's acting principal.

This collegial character is heightened by the fact that Roscrea is one of only three seven-day boarding schools left in Ireland. Outside normal holidays, the boys are only allowed home for one weekend a month and the school is quite strict about this, making exceptions only for those playing sports for their home clubs.

"They are living together all day, all week and all month, and they have to take ownership of the whole school," Garvey says.

Through the system of electing house captains and the existence of a student council, the students themselves play an important role in dealing with problems. "It is a very important characteristic of the school and integral to developing the boys," Garvey adds. The trust and respect between teacher and pupil is apparent in the relative openness with which the boys feel free to discuss the downside as well as the upside of boarding-school life. "You do miss out going home only once a month when most of your friends are going out every weekend," says the second house captain, Eamonn McQuinn. He also thinks that the senior boys ought to be allowed out to a social occasion or two together but admits that "relations between teachers and staff are much better than in other schools. All of them would know your name." There are sacrifices involved in being at the school, says second-year student John Ahern: "You don't experience as much as you would in a city school." His classmate Shane O'Sullivan reckons the school is good in that way - because there is less peer pressure on boys to do things like drink and smoke.

The school was established in 1904 and there is a strong sense of continuity about the place. When Garvey proudly says they have had three generations of some families there, Eddie O'Sullivan, the dean of residence, corrects him: "No, I think we're on to the fourth generation now."

The school has 310 pupils with 31 teachers and a total staff of 60. The high pupil-teacher ratio combined with a newly found wealth of facilities obviously make "Roz" a desirable place to send children and bookings have been taken up to 2010 - but there is more to getting in than money.

ALTHOUGH THERE is no hard and fast admissions policy - those with a family connection are in with a head start - families must be committed to the boarding-school ethos. Parents are expected to play their part in the school and parent-teacher days have, by all accounts, nearly a 100 per cent attendance rate. Many parents also play leading roles in coaching for sports.

"We don't want parents who come in and dump their kids. They should take part in the school," says Frank Smyth, the principal and dean of studies.

Although much in the school has changed since it was founded, it still has a strong rural base. "We would still have a lot of lads from farming families," Garvey says. About a third of the pupils study agricultural science for their Leaving Cert.

Almost all the boys go on to third-level education, and this is not surprising. "There is a very strong work-study ethic here. They are all conscious of where they are going and have high ambitions," Garvey says.

Where they are going is very often up. The school boasts among its alumni former Tanaiste Dick Spring and two members of the Cabinet, David Andrews and Brian Cowen. Many other pupils can be found in the legal and medical professions and in business.

Although academic achievement is an integral part of the school's aims, its seven-day character means that extra-curricular activity takes on a whole new meaning.

As befits a school that was runner-up in last year's Leinster schools rugby final, there is a strong sporting tradition in the school. As part of a multi-million development plan, a new £1.8 million sports hall opened there on Sunday. In Gaelic games, two boys from the school are all-Ireland minor players, five more play for their counties; three young men received sports scholarships in UCD last year.

The college boasts a wide range of sports and amenities. The sport centre has a room with not one but five pool tables. When the issue of this veritable pool hall and its connotations of a misspent youth are raised with development officer Katherine Donovan, she is unapologetic: "We have to have wider horizons than most schools."

While most schools content themselves with teaching their charges, and perhaps teaching them to learn, Roscrea must also take a large role in teaching them how to live. Students are given the opportunity to learn golf and work locally with the underprivileged and handicapped. Such a rounded approach to the development of the individual usually pays off, according to Frank Smyth. "Students don't come out with a Roscrea `veneer'," he says. "There is something in them, not on them."