Omnibus – Pride becomes bród

REGULAR readers know I've been proud in the last two columns. Pride not in myself, let me add, lest I be headed for a fall, but in certain things about this country of ours. On this St Patrick's Day I'll chance a little pride once again, and risk a few raps on the knuckles into the bargain.[private] This is a day when many hands are put to the wheel in this office, or more exactly outside it. Our excellent photographer Ray Ryan has many gifts, but bi-location is not one of them. So he graciously admits me, and one or two others, into the ranks of the honorary press photographers so that we can take in as many parade venues as we can. I saw two parades this year, those in Tuam and in Abbeyknockmoy, and while you'd expect a town the size of Tuam to put on a good show (although the performances in the Square should be strictly limited in time) it's often the smaller centres that produce flashes of genius. Abbey had a terrific selection of elaborate and witty floats this year, ranging from the Queen's visit to the highly topical theft of some ash trees. I'm sure the other towns and villages had lots of laughs and imagination as well, and fair play to them all for their creativity and hard work. They have a right to be proud of themselves, as I am of the whole range of communities this newspaper serves. I felt a little shiver of pride as well at the 10.30 Mass in Tuam Cathedral on St Patrick's Day. As is traditional, it was as Gaeilge, and it was lovely to hear the responses given with gusto by a large part of the congregation. I did my best to add my voice, with the assistance of the mass leaflet. Phrases like 'Agus leat féin' are easy enough, but when it comes to something like 'A Thiarna, ní fiú mé go dtiocfá faoi mo dhíon, ach abairse an focal agus leigheasfar m'anam' a mental run-through or two in advance helps to avert a twisted tongue. It all has to do with what you're used to: the volume for the ÃÂr n-Athair was higher than for most of the other prayers, and no surprise â€â€ we all learned the common prayers in Irish in primary school. But I'll bet that most people in the Cathedral who had got through Pass or even Honours Irish in the Leaving Cert would be hard pressed to fully translate the readings. Which is a bit ridiculous when you consider we studied the language from the age of five up to 18 or so. Twelve or 13 years of daily immersion and we cannot, most of us, carry a conversation in Irish beyond a few stock phrases. What has gone wrong? I haven't a clue, but I know that when I learned my first words of Irish at school I couldn't wait to get home and recite them for my mother. A few years later and Irish was the one subject I detested. Is it that Irish is a fiendishly difficult language to learn? Even now, safely beyond the grasp of any teacher, the idea of the módh coinniollach and the tuiseal ginideach makes me slightly queasy. (They are the conditional tense and the genitive case, in case you never had to learn Irish.) On the other hand, I can reel off the first few lines of the ballad Anach Cuain or Anois teacht an Earraigh without too much pain and I could sing Bean Pháidín, if pushed hard enough. I strongly believe that everyone who goes to school in Ireland should learn some Irish. It connects us to the heritage of this island in a very visceral way. For instance there is a great pleasure in using even the vestigial vocabulary to translate placenames. Knowing the old myths and legends brings another layer of meaning to certain landscapes. But whether or not I had a command of the aforementioned módhs or tuiseals has made not the slightest difference to my life since I shook off the shackles of the Leaving Cert. So I'm inclined to support the proposal that Irish should not be a compulsory subject for the Leaving Cert. For those who love the subject (NBâ€Ë†subject, not language) it would be a pleasure to study it to that level. For those whose talents lie elsewhere, the time wasted on studying a detested compulsory subject would be far better employed on the subjects chosen voluntarily. By all means let Irish be compulsory for the Junior Cert. But be more imaginative in the way it is presented. For the academic types and the proto-gaeileoirí lay the emphasis on the grammar; for the rest, work on a programme more related to the general Gaelic culture. Make them learn certain songs and poems by rote; teach them how placenames have an ancient lineage; introduce them to the Brehon Laws and the lifestyles of our ancestors. You could even give a premium, to be carried forward to the Leaving Cert, for attaining a certain standard, equivalent to the premium you might give to those who study Irish to the final examination. And to keep the mná tí in business, encourage all children to spend time in the Gaeltacht. The definition of stupidity is to keep on doing the same thing in expectation of a different result. We have been behaving stupidly regarding Irish for the past 80 years or more. In fairness to the language, the culture and our children, we need to do something new. â€â€ David Burke[/private]