Teaching is one of those professions that seems to run in families. You often hear things like, “My mother was a teacher, her father before her, and our family chalkboard goes back generations.”
Not in my case.
In fact, I remember my Carysfort College interview vividly. This was back in the '80s, when just getting enough points in your Leaving Cert wasn’t enough — oh no. You also had to survive a triathlon of interviews: English, Irish, and Music. I think I blacked out during "Báidín Fheilimí."
At one point, they asked, “So, any teachers in the family?”
I froze. “Eh... no.”
I was sure that was it. Career over. Thanks for playing. But miraculously, they let me in anyway — probably due to my heartfelt rendition of Doe, a deer.
Fast forward to today, when I was thumbing through Tales of Westmeath – History and Folklore from The Schools Collection by Shay Callaghan (yes, the same book that earned me "Topper Niece" status last week — I’m still clinging to that crown).
One entry caught my eye — a piece about the hedge schools that sprang up before 1832, when it was illegal for Catholic children to be educated. Despite the risks and the dire wages (we’re talking a penny a week, folks), brave teachers set up secret schools all over the place.
And there, in an account from Ballinvally Boys’ School, was mention of a Master Lynam. This is not too far from where Granda Lynam's people came from.
Cue dramatic music.
Could this be one of my ancestors? Is that where my teaching gene came from — smuggled down through generations like contraband chalk?
Granted, I’m not thrilled at the idea of being paid in pennies (unless it’s vintage coins on eBay). But the whole “residing in a rich man’s house in the district” sounds quite posh. Especially if that house includes central heating and someone else doing the ironing.
So maybe, just maybe, teaching does run in the family. It just took a couple of centuries to kick in.
Challenge Status: Still learning
Mood: Feeling oddly inspired… and also underpaid
No comments:
Post a Comment