On Friday morning we got up half an hour earlier and walked to school [we almost always drive, alas]. It was a lovely morning. Michael had floated the idea in the first place having been to a talk with the school for sustainable energy week. However, on hitting the pavement he was less keen drooping visibly and complaining of a sore leg. As good luck would have it, at the first traffic light we met a group of other parents and children and Michael was miraculously restored to health and they all went running off together sharing the scooters out amongst themselves.
One of the fathers who often organises vouchers for the teachers for Christmas, said to me, “We’re going to get a voucher for Máistir A [the boys’ teacher], fiver a head.” “Great,” said I mentally applauding his advance planning but not, you know, handing over the tenner on the spot. When we got to school it transpired that the Máistir had got a new job in Kerry [where he is from] and was starting on Monday. Although the school had been told a month previously, the children weren’t told until the day before to avoid distraction.
Apparently on Thursday a note came home in the school bags. But there was no homework on Thursday as the Sam Maguire and some of Dublin’s winning all-Ireland team had come to the school, so we hadn’t opened the bags. The children had been told but when asked whether there was any news from school they answered as follows:
Michael: Yes, I was put on the balla dána by Múinteoir S [a cruel and unusual punishment that you may have to google].
Not a word about the máistir’s departure which I take it means that they are untraumatised. I’m a bit shocked myself but that’s life I suppose. The boys are getting a teacher who is very popular – he was out for the start of the year having surgery on his leg and he is just coming back now. 3rd class are the envy of the school. It’s an ill wind, I suppose.