In my BLOG I met a traveller from a Distant Land I recalled how the man
himself a distinguished journalist, diplomat and statesman, recalled having lunch with Eamon de Valera at Arus an Uachtarain. A Moslem, he had been taught by
Irish Priests in Calcutta under the Raj and both of his daughters were Convent
educated, one of whom, a close neighbour became Mayor of our London
Borough.
I have met many Asian,African and Caribbean people educated by Irish Catho
missionaries. They appreciated their experience. I would think those educated by
Protestant missionaries had similar good treatment.
As it happens I spent two years (1957-59) being taught at Rockwell College
by the Holy Ghost Fathers. In London a couple of years ago a Nigerian Holy
Ghost Father was attached to our Parish. I told him that I had been taught by
a Priest “Thady” O’Connor, who had been with Bishop Shanahan in Nigeria
before the First World War. He told me that Nigerian Catholics revered Bishop
Shanahan as the Irish revered St. Patrick.
Bishop Shanahan died in Kenya in 1943. In the 1950s he was reburied in Nigeria
in a site reserved for Nigerian Chieftains and Royalty.
Thady O’Connor died in the summer of 1959 at the age of 75, probably the best
loved teacher in the school. Not only had he taught to that grand old age, but he still coached Rugby teams. In 1904, as a student, he captained the Rockwell ream which won the Munster Cup by defeating Christian Brothers’ College Cork.
Also on the Rockwell team was the Student Teacher Ed.de Valera, who was to
become Thady’s life-long friend.
My Mother used say “Show me your companions and I’ll tell you what you are.”
No doubt that applies to friends. If the well-loved Thady was a friend of Dev, the
latter’s enemies, detractors and calumniators should rot in Hell.
Dev’ a modern, scientifically modernising man,shared a fault with my Engineer father. Dev insisted that his son Terry, who wasn’t scientifically minded be so
taught at Blackrock. My father insisted that I study Physics and Chemistry at
Rockwell.
Thady tried to teach me Chemistry. I failed that subject in the Leaving Cert,
the results of which came out the week he died. I would feel guilty if I had
passed, for that would certainly have killed him.
By some miracle I passed in Physics getting the 40% pass mark replied.
The best advice given by a teacher to a parent, who complained that all his
son wanted to do was play a tin whistle was “buy him one.”
The teacher was Patrick Pearse, inspired by a reading of HARD TIMES by
Dickens I’m convinced. The novel depicted Preston, home town of my
beloved wife, who was a teacher as were her two brothers.
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