Kingsland School

By Frank Harrington

Kingsland school can mean so many different things to so many different people depending on the generation they’re sprung from, but also on many other things as well. For me as a four-year-old, coaxed and cajoled with many promises of the good life in store for me when I started school, it might have been fairyland, so well had my mentors done their work. When the great day finally came for me to take my first steps along the educational road and I crossed the threshold of the huge grey building on top of Kingsland hill, as so many had done before, it surely was something else. My childhood mind was in turmoil. 

The school and the whole idea of it filled me with dread, and fears and fantasies surfaced as never before in my young life, but I had no choice. I was compelled to grapple with them and put them to flight. It was my first real test - the fledgling was out of the nest. Could it fly? Of course, it flew and so did we all into the widening consciousness of our growing years and the deepening appreciation of what school was all about. And with the passage of time, and, for me, the hindsight of half a century and more, Kingsland school, our childhood academy, is seen in a much broader perspective. To the adult mind, it is simplistic to see it as just a building that gave rise to butterflies in our tummies, in any case, it has occupied three different buildings since its establishment close to a hundred and fifty years ago. Each of these developed its own personality as it were, in keeping with time, its teachers and its pupils. So, what is it then, essentially and fundamentally, and where is the common ground for the estimated 4,000 people, covering six generations who have passed through its doors in the momentous century and half of Irish life.

Common Ground

And, of course, common ground is there in abundance. For all of us between the ages of 4 and 13 (give or take), Kingsland school was to be about twenty five percent of our lives. Together with family and community, it would, in these crucial formative years, constitute the three most powerful and dominant influences which would mould and shape the adult people we would become. And for every boy and girl that has emerged or will emerge in the future, from that school, whatever its location, exactly the same thing can be said.

As four-year-olds, we’d naturally already be familiar and feel at home with the family, even the extended one. Aunts, uncles, cousins etc., would have crossed our path and we’d have adjusted to them. So, we were ready for the next step to widen the experience and add another increment of growth. That step had to be school: The wider community was the challenge here but specifically, our peer group and contemporaries. We had to meet these, assess them, and let them grow into us. For the next several years, these youngsters, essentially so like ourselves, growing step by step with us, physically and emotionally, caught up in the same environmental mix of joys and sorrows, action and inaction, worktime, playtime, laughter and tears, fantasies and fears would be our real teachers. In turn, we would be theirs. We’d quarrel and fight with them, laugh with them and make fun of them, play games, form close friendships, envy them, love them, hate them even sometimes. Through it all, we’d learn what society was all about, what good neighbourliness meant and how, as individuals, we must dovetail with others. By the time we emerged at the other end at 14 years of age, a lot of corners would be nicely rounded with the shape and form of the future adult becoming quite clear in outline. Overall there was the dawning realisation of something greater than ourselves - than our world. There was much talk of Supreme Being. He was God the Creator, the Omnipotent One, the beginning and the end, the alpha and the omega. This consciousness of the Divinity would deepen and strengthen and remain with the vast majority for the rest of our lives. Here, indeed, is common ground for all pupils of Kingsland N.S., past and present, regardless of where it might be located or housed. Here is the shared experience, set in the heart of rural Ireland and it binds us together as few other things can. It gives us, too, that sense of belonging and keeps us in touch with our complex and intertwined roots intricately laced and interlaced down the generations and the centuries of time. 

Origins 

So, it is only natural that, just as we treasure and dwell on any information in regard to our family and community heritage, we are likewise drawn, with some nostalgia, into the old school, and its background. One hesitates a little to put a date on its origins because in doing so, one ignores the fact that, in all likelihood, the first permanent, housed school was proceeded by one or more hedge schools in the parish. Therein lies the real roots of Kingsland school Unfortunately, any factual information in regard to them now, almost certainly, irretrievably lost but as we push back the frontiers of time in the remembrance of things past, let us pray in silent and prayerful tribute to those who have gone before and their years of struggle in their efforts to cross the threshold of literacy and master the three R's. In those days, that was as far as the educational vision went, or more correctly perhaps, needed to go. There was no technological revolution to cope with and life was relatively simple in all its dimensions. Nor was that vision to change much during the whole of the 1800's and certainly it hadn't changed when the hedge school was swept aside by a country wide, educational revolution brought about by the Westminster Education Act of 1832 and the establishment of the Board of Education. O'Connell's Catholic Emancipation Act in 1829 had finally put paid to the penal laws and re-opened, for the downtrodden masses of the population, the prospect of progressive improvement in lifestyles and expectations. And what masses of people there were at the time when the awesome population explosion of the period from c. 1700 to 1847 was at its peak. In that period the population of Ireland shot up from around 1.5 million to 8 million, virtually all on the strength of the humble "Spud", and its one variety "Lumper". That is just by the way, of course, but it gives some background to the scale of the problem facing an impoverished country at the time, in the educational field alone. 

Board of Education 

This education al revolution filtered through to the parish of Breedogue (or as it may have been then known, Kilnamanagh) during the 1840's. Callow school proceeded Kingsland by a few years for reasons unknown, but Kingsland followed in due course and opened in August 1848. 

For the establishment of any school at the time, the initiative had to come from the people, led, invariably, by the priest of the parish. In Breedogue, at the time, was one Fr. Michael Dillon and on his shoulders fell the burden of organisation and establishment. There was no committee. Once established, the procedure was to apply for grants undervarious headings to the Board of Education and subsequently, after inspection, and assuming that everything was found to be in order, the school was registered by the Board and grants paid. One of the conditions was that school would have no connection with religious houses and the other principal one was that the patron would be responsible for fitting out the school and maintaining it in good condition. It would appear that the patron in this case was Stafford King Harman, and, reading between the few lines that appear in the archives, the most likely scenario appears to be that Fr. Dillon and the landlord put their heads together and came up with the building that remains to this day, and is now a slated barn at the bottom of Kingsland hill adjacent to the old Post Office, run by the Drury family during the first half of this century. It appears from the archives that one John Naughton, as tenant of Stafford King Harman, had authority to sublease the building, which he did, to the Board of Education, but only after it was fitted out as a school. The landlord, apparently, was generous in the matter of outfitting and funding was not required from parishioners. 

The First Building 

The 1848/49 report to the Board of Education states that it was built of stone, had a thatched roof and was in good condition. It consisted of one room measuring 36' x 12' x 8'. The furniture was all new, there were 6 benches and seats measuring 8' long and 20' of other seats. The highest of the benches were 2'9" and the lowest 2'6". Wire nails were provided from which to suspend the writing tablets. There were windows, described in the archives as "lights", three at the front, measuring 2'4" x 1'7" and two at the back measuring 1'6" x 1'5". The accommodation was considered adequate for 90 pupils. This then was the "locally established" school opened in 1848. After the official' inspect ion and favourable report to the Board of Education, it was duly registered by the Board on July 5th, 1849. This made it eligible to receive books for 100 pupils and grants towards teachers’ salaries together with other minor payments. John Naughton, the lessor of the building, was appointed teacher on the recommendation of Fr. Dillon and for the first two years until 1850, he was the only teacher for the reason that the average number of girls attending did not warrant the appointment of a work mistress, as the term was.

Staffing 

John Naughton must have enjoyed considerable local standing at the time. A man of about 30 years of age, Fr. Dillon was able to vouch for his character and ability. He had no training as a teacher, of course, nor had anybody else at the time, so it must have been very much a trial and error situation. The fact is, nevertheless, that John Naughton served for 29 years until 1878 when he retired due to ill health. He started at a salary of £10 a year which had risen to £30 when he retired. His retiring gratuity amounted to roughly three years salary or £90. It is recorded that he had a family of five daughters and four sons and was attended by Dr. Gillespie, Frenchpark during his last illness. His teaching career was unblemished except for one minor reprimand. Books were supplied for 100 pupils. They are listed as Baxter's Arithmetic, Murray's English Grammar, Murray's Spelling Book and O'Reilly's Catechism. Irish books are not mentioned and this, perhaps, is not surprising given the attitude of the colonial government, at the time, to the language and also the fact that the people themselves had begun to realise that the way to whatever progress could be made in their material affairs was, almost exclusively, through the use of English. It can be said that, just about the time the school was established, the Irish language as the spoken tongue, was well and truly on the slippery slope. Religious instruction was given every Friday between 2.00 p.m. and 4.00 p.m. 

Progress 

From 1850 on, the school appears to have made rapid progress. On May 1st, 1850, a Bridget Sharkey was appointed work mistress at a salary of £6 per year. In September 1851 a Pat Murrin was appointed monitor at £8 per year. After three years’ service Miss Sharkey resigned and a Bridget Drury was appointed at £8 per year. In the same year, 1853, a clock was purchased for the princely sum of £1.12s.5d, the equivalent of two months’ salary for the headmaster. In 1854, Fr. Dillon became quite ill and was unable to continue in charge. He was replaced by the P.P., Fr. M. McDonagh. Pupils generally paid fees at the time and these were, per quarter, one shilling (5p), one and sixpence (7½p), two shillings (10p) or two and six (12.5p), depending, presumably on ability to pay. There was provision for 20 free places. In this context, Fr. Dillon's reply to a Board of Education questionnaire, when he was applying for registration of the school is interesting. One of the questions was how many well-to-do families there were in the parish at the time. His reply was "none - they are all poor, very poor, very ignorant but very willing to learn". His figure for the population of the parish at the time was 3,000. He must have been quite a man, quite a priest. His compassion comes through from the archives and perhaps, well it might, given the dire plight of the population in the devastating and traumatic famine period of 1845-49. It is perhaps a period best passed over, for now, except to pause and wonder how anybody in the aftermath of that holocaust could find the inspiration, the courage and the determination to light a candle, rather than curse the darkness. And yet there were such people and Fr. Dillon was one of them. He was a true shepherd of his flock and the 1848 school might be said to be the candle he lit. Ar dheis De go raigh a anam.

Set Back 

From 1854 onwards until its closure in 1877, there is nothing further in the archives relating to the first school. In April of that year it was struck off the register by the Board of Education because of its condition and the extent of the deterioration had had set in. An additional blow, at the same time, was the ill health of John Naughton and his imminent retirement (1878). One can only deduce that the school closed because the new school, this time on the top of Kingsland Hill didn't open until 1883. Curiously enough, this gap in continuity ties in with the local tradition in the parish that there was, at one point, a school run by a Ms. Murray and it seems a fair bet that the Po in t School opened when the first Kingsland closed. The proof of this theory might be the listing of Ms. Murray's name as a member of the staff of Kingsland school, but there is no, record of that in the archives. So, there's no certainty but, nevertheless, if, in fact, such a transfer did occur, it must be seen as logical and enterprising on the part of Ms. Murray. 

Second Building 

The new two roomed school on the top of the hill opened on August 13th, 1883. It was built by local subscriptions and the two names associated with the plot of ground, as per the archives, are one Matt Flanagan and the landlord, Stafford King Harman. A Fr. Luke Carlos was now the curate. The plot comprised 1 rood, 25 square perches. The building erected thereon is described in some detail in the archives but there is nothing particularly noteworthy about it except that it was so much more spacious than the previous one much better catered for in regard to window space for daylight access. 

New Staff 

The first principal was John Forde, a young man of 25 who came from Cloontagid N.S., Co. Longford. He was joined by Bridget Higgins, 39 years, who came from Callow N.S., Ellen Flynn, 22 years, from Bella N.S., and Pat Cregg, 19 years, who had also served in Callow N.S., as monitor. Fees varied form sixpence (old) 3p, to two shillings and sixpence (12.5p), per quarter. On October 6th, 1883, the year of opening, there were 140 on the roll and a daily average attendance of 110. 

John Forde apparently finished in 1909 for reasons unknown and was replaced by Patrick Kelly. From that time on almost, this second school is in living memory. It cannot, therefore, have the same aura of mystique surrounding it as the first. After Fr. Carlos, the next curator or, perhaps, second next was Fr. Roddy and again, in this area, we are virtually into living memory. Master Kelly retired in 1949 and this second school closed in December 1960 to be replaced by the present building, opened in January 1961, this time by Fr. J. Kerrigan. The site for the new school was donated by Mr. Joe Mahon, Kingsland. Big Changes Oddly enough, just as the first school in 1848 was part of an educational revolution, this third school more or less coincided with another immense change, namely the introduction of free secondary education in the sixties. That, too, was a giant step forward, so great that it must rank second only to the independence movement among the positive events that did most to change the face of Ireland during this century. Unfortunately, there is also the negative side, the single factor in Irish life that comes close to outweighing the other two. That can be the ongoing haemorrhage of emigration, the draining away of the life blood of a people who were once, and still are, no more or no less than the salt of the earth. The west of Ireland was in _ grave crisis a hundred and fifty years ago when Fr. Dillon lit his candle and so many others like him, lit theirs. When he did, the darkness began to lift. The crisis today is no less severe, as rural populations dwindle and begin to reach the point of no return. Perhaps the newly established Western Board with the Government and E.U. backing is the beacon of the future. As Shakespeare put it "It is a consummation devoutly to be wished".

As a final word in regard to the old school, it's interesting to speculate how the c.4,000 who passed through might have been affected by, or involved in, Irish and world events in their time.

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