PRGRADUATE

September 2008

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.

It’s all character building!

You’re wondering what on earth this post is about with a title like that… It’s something I heard over and over again from my lovely Mum. Nothing much was ever anything to worry about, all just building character. 

Since reaching the end of my educational journey so to speak (unless I actually do that Masters I’ve been threatening for months), I often find myself thinking back over the many years spent at school and visualise a long list of things I would love to have told my younger self. 

The current crisis has thrown plans in the air for so many people. Exams cancelled, next steps uncertain, unemployment, an empty job market… so much worry caused by something that quite literally came out of absolutely nowhere. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m all for a lazy day on the sofa with a cup of coffee and a share bag of Maltesers, but 14 weeks is pushing it. 

Today’s post was inspired by the many updates I have seen flooding my social media timelines for the last couple of weeks, surrounding the future of education. So many years of school and third-level educational life are filled with ups and downs at the best of times, never mind experiencing the above whilst enduring a global pandemic. 

Looking back on my teenage years, there is so much I would love to have been able to tell my younger self. Life lessons, experiences that lay ahead, and achievements that baby me never could’ve imagined she was capable of. So, for anyone reading this who may either resonate with this feeling, or may be stumbling through those early years of constant change, your journey wouldn’t be normal if it made total sense. 

Dear little Nora,

Firstly, the more you go on to learn about the world, the more you begin to realise that you in fact do not know everything. You’ll learn that you’re not always in control, but your knowledge is power. You’ll not understand so many events in our crazy world, but the key is to attempt to educate yourself. 

30 isn’t old. You’re not going to be married by 25 and will still live at home at 23. This is completely normal. Your 20s are funny, everyone you know is at different stages of their life.

Don’t be afraid to be yourself. There’ll be a few years that you’ll spend analysing every inch of yourself and wondering if changing how you come across to those around you will get you further in life. Truth is, later on down the line you’ll realise that the best version of yourself you can be is the one that comes naturally. Get to know who you really are, this will be the turning point. These years of uncertainty will mould you into the person you will eventually become.

You were put in the highest reading group in primary school, and huffed for weeks because the lower group got a better book. You’re going to learn that the opportunities you’re given are yours for a reason. Don’t waste time on what others do or don’t have, worry about yourself and the pieces will fall into place. 

Success is 20% strategy and 80% mindset, if you want it enough, it’s all yours for the taking. You will fail. You’ll not always be in control. However, you’ll learn how to take these lessons and use them to your advantage. Don’t let the pressure get to you. GCSEs are tough, then A-Levels come along and they’re 10x worse, then you get into University and find yourself sitting in the back row of your 9am lecture wondering how you got here, why you’re here, and how you can strategically nip out to the bathroom through the door conveniently positioned at the front of the lecture hall. Fun fact: all of the above are the toughest mountains you’ll have climbed to date at that particular time. Don’t feel bad for struggling. 

Take off the neon rainbow eye-shadow (or at least master the basics of makeup first and then try again).

You’re going to accomplish your academic goals. You mightn’t be completely satisfied with some results along they way, but don’t be disheartened, you’ll get your degree. Continue to treat your teachers well, you owe so much to them. Appreciate everything, and trust the process. It’s OK to feel however you truly do feel… it’s OK to be disappointed, angry, sad… emotions in general are OK.

Never ever settle. Don’t get too comfortable. Keep growing, keep thriving, and never stop dreaming. You may not reach every goal as and when you decide you’d like to achieve it, please don’t take this as an opportunity to lay down foundations at the point you’re at. Never loose your vision. You will go against your gut on so many occasions, simply choosing the easier option, but as the saying goes ‘…the worst mistake a person can make is being afraid to make one’.

Not everyone will have your best interests at heart. Be accepting that this is simply another aspect of normal life. Don’t let anyone rent a room in your head free of charge, don’t focus too much on what others think of you (within reason of course). People will walk in and out of your life as the years pass by, and your circle will get smaller as you grow older, but smaller doesn’t necessarily mean worse. You will learn to put yourself and your own happiness first, and this is a life-changing lesson. That friendship group you stumbled upon in school, spoiler alert: you’re stuck with them for life. You got lucky. Appreciate them now, you’ll all stick by eachother through it all. You will meet a few more pals through the years who’ll go on to become some of your closest and best friends, you’re so lucky.

Don’t let brilliant opportunities pass you by because you don’t feel you’re good enough. You are as deserving and capable as the next person. You don’t have to take everyone’s advice. Always be thankful and show appreciation for the input of those who care about you, but you’re your own person and sometimes decisions can only be truly made by you.

Your love for dancing will never leave you. However, one piece of advice: don’t get too hung up on results in your competitive career, enjoy every second because it’ll be over before you know it. The experiences are what you will remember. 

Go for that coffee date with your Mum that you might feel you’re too cool for at the time. This trip will grow into a lifetime love for those little caffeinated beans (and possibly a minor financial problem). By 2020 you won’t have to order in various coffee shops due to visiting that often that they now already know what you want, consider it a plus.

Lastly, something you will still have to repeat to yourself everyday in your 20s; nothing worth having comes easy. You may not be where you want to be right now, but you’re closer than you were yesterday. Regardless of everything, be proud of yourself, always. 

Life is a mystery. Living it is a blessing. You have the best group of friends, an incredible family, and are qualified for a career that will (hopefully) eventually fall into place. So hey, don’t panic too much about the future and just enjoy the journey, it’ll all be absolutely grand.

Be kind, and keep turning left.

Nora xx

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

HOW DANCE CHANGED MY LIFE

A time for reflection

Quite a lot of things have changed over the last two months; furlough, working from home, one trip to the shops per week, no school, and a serious lack of hugs. Besides the obvious reality that I definitely spent way too much time in Sainsburys pre-Covid, one factor that personally resonates with me has to be the large group of people going without their much-loved hobbies and activities. I for one would’ve been absolutely distraught if such a thing had taken place during my dancing days. 

As usual, something will fleetingly pop into my head and my brain then goes off on a tangent. I began thinking about how my years of dancing have shaped me as a person, how I have never lost my love for dance, and that I doubt I ever will. As the famous Dr. Seuss quote reminds us, “sometimes you will never know the value of a moment until it becomes a memory”.

I danced for quite a huge chunk of my childhood, but looking back the years really did fly by. I danced right up until my education got quite full-on and required a bit of serious attention in order to achieve my goals. Giving only a fraction of my attention to something that meant so much to me just didn’t sit right, and I decided to hang up my shoes with memories of only ever giving 100%. I had a successful dancing career, went on to have a successful educational career, and can only hope to say the same about my ‘actual’ career in the future. 

The hidden language of the soul

It has been a while since I’ve thought about dancing on a personal level; of course I keep up to date with the dancing world day in day out on social media, but this is a completely unrehearsed exploration into the impact it has had on my life. I owe so much to each and every person who was part of that journey.

In particular, the people responsible for my love for dance, my incredibly talented and hard-working teachers.  

The weekends dedicated to competitions, sometimes missing birthday parties and a list of other activities, taught me commitment and the ability to prioritise at a young age; to understand that sometimes decisions have to be made by our present selves to pave the way for our future selves. Thank you for showing me that nothing worth having in life comes easy.

The nights I had class were a quick turnaround between school, homework, dinner and getting myself sorted and out the door. Thank you for teaching me the ability to multi-task, alongside commitment and productivity; we all have the same amount of hours per day, and what we choose to do with those is what shapes our being.

Thank you for making me a motivator. There’s a solution to every problem, and criticism can be constructive. Thank you for challenging me to constantly better myself, for showing me the sun cannot shine without a little rain. For inspiring me to be a leader, and to never give up or look down on anyone. You taught me confidence, one of the greatest gifts I could’ve ever received. 

Thank you for teaching me that winning isn’t the be all and end all of life. Taking part is just as (if not more) important. 

As a 23 year old, I couldn’t list my placements over the years. What I can recall in detail; the memories inside and outside of class, the friendships, the costumes, the competitions, displays and functions, the days spent drilling the same 10 seconds of a step, this is what I remember, and I know I’m not alone. In these moments there was nowhere else in the world I would’ve rather been.  

Dance gave me my ‘can-do’ attitude. The courage to be brave enough to fail at something new. The same attitude I see responsible for my other achievements, both academically and personally. Mistakes, mishaps, bumps in the road don’t define you, your ability to get up and keep trying does. 

Practicing so hard and not placing as highly as hoped… totally unfair and outrageous, right? An excuse to walk away? Wrong. That’s life. There’s ups, downs, and everything in between. Failure, disappointment, sadness, all general everyday emotions. I was lucky to learn this at a young age. I was lucky enough to learn that every disappointment isn’t a personal attack, every feeling of failure wasn’t reason to give up. For every down day in the world of dancing came 6 good days, because for every 7 it remained my most favourite thing in the whole world. Thank you for the blessing of persistence.

I write from personal perspective of an Irish Dancer, however all is relevant to any hobby, activity or pastime that takes up a place in your heart never to be lost. My dance teachers were a few of the first people to believe in me, and responsible for some of my earliest and most memorable achievements. Thank you for giving me a purpose in childhood that has motivated my drive to always have a purpose in adulthood. 

So for all of the above, I thank you. 

“It’s not where you are in life, it’s who you have by your side that matters.”

I still run steps to burn off energy, especially now while stuck at home all day. I put my shoes on at the beginning of lockdown for the first time in a few years, and it was as if no time at all had passed. Dancing continues to brighten my mood, my mum still displays my winnings as though more are due to appear, and I will always call myself a dancer.

It can be hard sometimes; friends from outside of the dancing world won’t always understand why you choose to devote so much free time to something they don’t appreciate in the same way you do. Life will give you the choice to sit it out or dance; I’m glad I gave so much of my time to something I loved, I’m glad I made sacrifices, I’m glad I have these memories. I may not have chosen to go professional, but I can confidently say that dance made me into the person I am today, and I will always be grateful for that. 

To each and every dancer who may be reading this. You will be back. Stronger, brighter, and more determined than ever. Remember, enjoy every minute, because in no time at all you’ll find yourself looking back.

Finally, always #bekind.

Nora xx

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