St. Conleth's College 75 Year Quinquennial 2014

28
St. Conleth's College
1939 - 2014
St. Conleth’s in the 1960s
Hugh Feidhlim Woods, Class of 1966
I am from the generation who can immediately answer
the question “Where were you on November 22nd
1963?” It was, of course, the date of the assassination of
JFK. Forty years on, I suspect that Conlethians of 2014
might have to pause and wonder “Who was JFK?“
When I first heard the news of the assassination of John
Fitzgerald Kennedy, it was early evening and I was sitting
and watching a small black-and-white TV in the basement
kitchen of St. Conleth’s. No, I was not serving
detention : I had just set up the rooms for a showing by
the Film Society and I was waiting to open the doors for
the attendees. (And no, I cannot even remember which
film we were showing!) I must have been an ‘official’ of
the Film Society, as I was of the Debating Society. Involvement
in such ‘societies’ was very much a part of the
St. Conleth’s experience.
For several years in the senior school I was elected
class captain and, ultimately, in Sixth year School Captain
by the students of Fifth and Sixth year. I have little
memory of any details of my campaign to be School
Captain - I do hope that bribes were not changing hands
- and no memory of with whom I was competing. And,
I cannot, in retrospect, think why my fellow students
would have elected the Feidhlim Woods I remember, or
disremember, myself to have been at that time. I was the
youngest in my class; I was obese – what was called
‘puppy fat’ in those days and today would be a matter of
health concern – and I was a bit of a ‘goody-goody’.
I remember myself as something of a ‘bully’, though
in a fairly benign way, and certainly took my role as
prefect seriously. I paraded up and down the corridors
during break times, guarding the school against the
‘illegal intrusion’ of boys from the school yard. If the
students were confined to their classrooms for reason
of rain (as frequent then
as now) I circuited the
classrooms to maintain
some sense of ‘order’.
I rang the bell to indicate
end of lunch break. It
says something about
me then that I loved it
all. As I say, it is a surprise
to me now that my
schoolmates elected that
officious little bugger as
Hugh Feidhlim Woods their capatain!
I am the last of ten living
children, seven boys and
three girls. We last three
boys – my brothers
David, Philip and myself
– broke with a tradition.
The four older boys
boarded at Pres Bray.
Years later my mother (a
devout though liberal
Catholic) told me of her
decision and hinted at John O'Connor and Alan Morse
some of the reasons why
she chose to send her youngest three to a ‘non-religious’
lay school. I was, and I remain, thankful that I benefited
from that decision.
Although being, myself, gay and issueless, I am pleased
that David and Philip and my older brother Paul and
sister Niamh sent some of their children to St. Conleth’s.
Now, I even have a grandnephew, Naoise, at St. Conleth’s.
And all of these ‘next generational’ Woods and
Hurleys (I’ll leave it to one of them to count how many!)
tell me of their mostly happy times at St. Conleth’s and
their gratitude for a liberal education. They are all fine
people of diverse character and achievement.
In 2006, I flew over from Hong Kong where I was living,
to join the 40th Reunion of the Class of 1966. As
I remember, there were 18 of the original 24 Sixth class at
the reunion, some with their partners. It turned into a
fairly boozy night and I keep telling myself that I should
re-establish contact with some of those eighteen. I wonder
how many we will be for the 50th in two years’ time.
I think that occasion had something to do with my decision
to retire early and return to live in Ireland in 2008.
The school now– the building itself, that is – is a barely
recognizable maze, excepting the old house. The smells,
however, are still the same : testosterone driven pheromones
overwhelming any osmic influence of the girls.
There were, thankfully, no girls in my time and I have to
admit to the reactionary view that, at a time when adolescent
hormones are raging, teaching boys and girls in the
same room is not ideal and is, probably, an ordeal.
None of the teachers of my era remain. Except, ofcourse,
Mr. Kevin Kelleher! Isn’t he amazing for his age? Recently,
I discovered some 35mm slides taken at a Sports Day –
probably in 1962 or 1963. There was Dr. Golden, the
‘Butt’, with cigarette in hand in those less politically
correct days; also, somewhere in the crowd, John Quinlan
(Irish), John O’Connor (Maths and the Sciences) and
Michael Murphy (Deputy Headmaster). I can’t find
Michael Gardiner (History and English), my favourite
teacher and probably the one who inspired me most.