Educating Ourselves

There is an education debate taking place in the Republic which is every bit as lively and, on occasion, every bit as fractious as the one taking place in the North. The current issue of Studies (Summer 2008) addresses the debate in the Republic with a special issue entitled “Educating Ourselves”. The issue focuses on the challenges facing the education system in the 21st century while keeping in mind the system’s successes too: “So, though frequently reported only when there is failure or controversy, Irish primary and secondary education is characterised by commitment and creativity.” Amongst the topics discussed are “Catholic Schools: Schools for Catholics”; “ ‘Protestant’ Schools”; “Integration and the role of Catholic Schools”; “Intercultural Education – the School Response” and “Educating for Values: Philosophy and Religion”.

In his editorial, Fergus O’Donoghue, SJ, writes: “One of the objections to church schools is that they teach disproved doctrines and transmit outdated world views. From this perspective, the best education is rational and scientific, though the notion that science can be totally independent of its culture is truly risible. Putting ourselves at the top of the evolutionary tree is presumptuous and leads to hubris, whereas history, ancient or contemporary, shows that we are all too ready to behave irrationally. We need religion as part of our society. The majority of Irish parents recognise this and want a religious aspect to their children’s education. They are not troubled by diversity in the student body. They are very keen on local education (hence their enthusiasm for national schools). Their commitment to the transmission of religious beliefs is, however, less obvious.”

The full editorial as well as the essays are available on line at www.studiesirishreview.com

On a more personal note, the current issues also carries a review by Joan Hutchinson, rscj, of my book, Milltown – A Belfast Novella (Lagan Press). As the reviews from Studies are not on line, I am, very immodestly, going to reproduce it here.

Joan Hutchinson writes: “But what is it to be at home, Mr Tyler, what is it to be at home? A lingering dissolution,” All that Fall – Samuel Beckett, 1957.

Disintegration of an ordinary home and the memories which remain form the basis of this unusual book. The novella evokes in microcosm the divided city of Belfast. It describes Belfast over thirty years of violence and the changes wrought by the ceasefire. Pól Ó Muirí tells the story of Joseph McDowell, an only child growing up in a happy hardworking family in West Belfast. The ‘nets of nationality, religion and language’ are strong in this sectarian world but the soul of the boy is not entrapped by any of these.

Violence is pervasive, in school where the fist is used liberally, where the pupils are called ‘morons’, on the streets where the struggle between the British Army and the Provos lead to “an implosion of the city”. “Familiar streets and paths he had walked became out of bounds and families he had known disappeared”. Yet the author avoids the self-indulgent pity which plagues so much of the miserable Irish childhood literature.

The central character, Joseph McDowell, becomes a reluctant but competent teacher. He made his peace with teaching, reasoning that “it is not such a bad profession, the holidays are good”. He wished to be a writer but was not prepared for the academic snobbery of the university world nor exclusion by the self-regarding establishment of Northern letters. In the midst of the flux and change of life, the author portrays a home of humour, commonsense and deep affection. Catholicism is presented as a secure and kind presence ministering in a war zone.

Pól Ó Muirí has used the novella convention to great purpose, its spare prose restricted to the conflict situation in West Belfast, which leads to an unexpected turning point, so that the conclusion surprises, while it is at the same time a logical and plausible outcome of the tale. The recurring symbol is Milltown Cemetery and its association with violence and death. History, prejudice, bigotry, alienation, propaganda and betrayal ravage West Belfast and its people during this short narrative.

The impulse of the artist to create one city or country in imagination and in story is a compelling instinct and Pól Ó Muirí has recreated West Belfast in this short and deft novella. It is an elegy for a family, a city, a civilization.

Milltown – a Belfast Novella would be an ideal book for inclusion on the Leaving Certificate Comparative texts course, as it could introduce students to the history of Northern Ireland. Its brevity would suit them, as such precision demands great skill. I am reminded again of Beckett’s words: “Why say more, when less already says so much.”

Joan Hutchinson, rscj, works in Mount Anville Secondary School, Dublin.