Firstly, the inspiration behind this blog post. I wish I had been inspired to write this because I’d bumped into an old friend unexpectedly or stumbled upon my uniform during a clear out, however that’s not the case. Whilst I do indeed still have my school blazer (and the 50 badges attached to it), the premature passing of my secondary school form teacher is the brainwave behind today’s ramblings, a man I would very much hold accountable for many of my achievements to date (alongside the various other teachers who’s heads I melted on a regular basis). Mr McAleese was the first face we met every morning, and the last to wave goodbye every afternoon, every school day for 7 years. He listened to our highs and lows, our ups and downs, with patience, humour and enthusiasm. They say teaching is a vocation rather than a career, not the job for everyone, but anyone who knew Mr McAleese would back me up in saying he was without a doubt the perfect fit for the role.

A few of my classmates reunited earlier this week to say goodbye to a teacher we all loved and appreciated, this being the first some of us had seen eachother since parting ways in 2015. We caught up, we laughed, we looked back on so many memories made in the corridors of St. Genevieve’s. One thing I took away from our time together was the pride at how well everyone is doing for themselves in adulthood.

I still remember the day I walked through the doors of ‘big school’ for the first time. Something just felt right. A wee 11 year old from a tiny local primary school, the assembly hall in my new school was equivalent in size to the entire playground at my primary. The shy 11 year old went on to be Deputy Head Girl, standing at the front of that same assembly hall, speaking to a full audience without any hesitation. I really did grow up there. The highlight of day one was probably the homework diary, I can still remember the pure delight at this wee book I could personalise and carry around with me, it all felt very professional. You’re right, I’m the 24 year old with the Filofax that I note my whole life inside, probably could’ve seen that coming. I spent hours printing out the finest quality google images back in the day so everyone in the school would be fully aware of my favourite singers. Now I have my Caffè Nero loyalty cards and a Polaroid of my dog in the Filofax, priorities change I suppose.

If you were lucky enough to have taught my class at any stage during the 7 years we roamed the corridors, you’d agree we were a good laugh. To name but a few fond memories, the whole class got a break-time detention because the lights were turned off in the PE changing rooms, and we once told our RE teacher we were doing a sponsored silence for the school charity solely to avoid having to speak to him for the hour. Approximately half of the class got out of PE every week. To be fair to myself, I broke my thumb during an attempt to be scouted for London 2012 when gymnastics was the week’s lesson of choice, my Mum refused to collect me early as I wasn’t on deaths’ door and I had to go to a Technology & Design class with the poor finger in agony, wasn’t a fan of the whole PE carry on after that. Wasn’t really the subject for me. All of the above were probably issues our poor form teacher had to deal with, completely unbeknownst to us.

In my head I finished school about 3 weeks ago, in actual fact it has been over 6 years since I last strutted down to the bus stop with my badge-covered blazer on, running late for the good old 10H. Chatting about our school days got me thinking, what exactly is it about a memory that makes it unforgettable, engrained in our brain never to leave. I just remember being happy, so happy every single day, even when all sorts were going on outside of the school gates. The stresses of exams, personal life struggles, the many worries of a typical teenager. I really did love school. Was this down to the teachers I had, the school I attended, the fantastic group of friends I was surrounded with? Most likely all of the above. School was a solid life highlight for me, and I do completely recognise how lucky I am to be able to say that.

Life wasn’t necessarily a subject in school, but I had many a teacher who taught it in their classroom. The life advice we all needed to hear, even if we didn’t particularly always want to listen. Teachers can, and really do, make a difference.

I did make it to uni in the end, mainly with thanks to Mr McAleese for listening to me yapping on about the constant issues arising whilst completing my UCAS form (and in turn sorting said issues out). Probably would’ve scrapped the whole thing before I had even applied if he wasn’t around. We don’t know if he ever heard how we all did at uni, what careers we’re all striving for, but I’m sure he’d have found it hilarious that we all hold down full-time jobs without the appearance of a handwritten note of some kind claiming we can’t participate for whatever stupid reason we made up while on the bus up the road.

Let’s raise a virtual toast to Mr McAleese, a man who always had time for everyone, brought great craic to the classroom, and an unmatched enthusiasm. A smile goes a long way, especially in the eyes of a child going through the many struggles that go hand in hand with growing up. I probably wouldn’t have a degree without him, and reading the news of his passing hit home with me, with all of us. We all stopped for a moment to realise just how much he influenced our paths. An amazing man, an amazing teacher, and most importantly, a good laugh. A man who went above and beyond for every single student. Undoubtably a huge loss to the school. In the eyes of our wee class, and every other student who ever walked through the doors of his classroom, all we can say is thank you.

I don’t know if anyone other than the bribed few actually read my blog posts, but if you’re still in school and have found yourself here, I hope you get to experience a teacher who impacts your life like Mr McAleese did ours’. To my friends now teachers yourselves, please follow his lead. Fourteen year old crying-over-GCSE-science me never would’ve thought I’d utter this generic overused phrase, but without a doubt guys and gals, your school days are the best days of your life. Pity they don’t take you back in your twenties, I’d be there in the morning.

Nora xx

BSc Communication Management & Public Relations First Class Hons. Instagram – @noraellenb / Twitter – @noraellenb / LinkedIn- Nora Ellen Brennan.