Literary Magazine 2014 Edition. by St Gerard's School

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Introduction

‘Reading maketh a full person; conference a ready person; and writing an exact person.’ Francis Bacon

I think this is a most appropriate quote with which to introduce our Literary Magazine for 2014. This academic year has seen the most wonderful successes for our various debating teams. Their reading and research has prepared the students to write with precision, perception and erudition and has most certainly enhanced their ‘conference’ and indeed confidence. You will find samples from these debates within this magazine. However as always this publication endeavours to showcase an eclectic mix of genres from poetry to prose, from persuasive pieces to debates, across all year groups. As ever the standard of the pieces is exceptionally high and highlights the great talent in St. Gerard’s. As Joseph Addison said ‘Reading is to the mind what exercise is to the body.’ There can be no doubt that the regular reader performs best in exams. We are aware of the increased emphasis the Department of Education is placing on literacy levels amongst our young people. Yet reading and writing should not be seen only in terms of exams and points. Reading for pleasure is exercise for the mind, it is escape, it is cathartic in an increasingly hectic, technology driven world. We are lucky in the school to have such a comfortable and well stocked library and I would encourage all students to avail of this wonderful room. No matter what your interest, be it sport, biography, fiction or travel you will find a book to suit your tastes. The rewards will last a lifetime. ‘Children should learn that reading is pleasure, not just something that teachers make you do in school.’ Beverly Cleary. My sincere thanks to the great team for all their hard work in promoting and cajoling, for typing, editing and designing this magazine. Editor: Maddie Dunne Kirby. Ferdinand Emmet, Aoibhinn Gilmore, Danielle MacMahon, Emma Nolan, Eavan Noonan, Clara O’Shea Collins. I am always fascinated to see the creativity involved in designing a unique cover each year. This year Erin Keating is our designer and artist, ably assisted by Maria Fitzgerald. Both have risen to the challenge superbly!

er w o P e t u l o s b A tely u l o s b A s t p u Corr Our story begins in a time before time. The sun rose, the sun set, and there was nothing in between. The world was empty, not yet destroyed by the human lust for power. A small village existed, the first kind of civilization, and here was where power first began. At first everyone lived as equals. The hunters, the farmers, the mothers and even the children were seen as the same. Until one day a hunter returned to the village looking wide-eyed and demonic. He managed to convince the village that they needed him to rule them. They needed him to thrive. And thus the first dictatorship was born. A few years later a little boy was born to a poor peasant family. Klaus they named him. Already having seven children, the boy received little and he felt bitter towards his parents and other siblings. Years passed and his jealousy grew towards the king. He wanted what the king had. He wanted power, to be adored, and to be wanted. One day while he was out hunting he came across a cave. Intrigued, and feeling compelled to discover what lay inside, he entered it. It was a long dark cave and as he ventured further and further in, he began to regret his decision. His torch was burning low and he knew he’d never make it back out. ‘Klaus,’ a voice hissed through the darkness, just as he was turning back. The voice didn’t scare him, and, as if enchanted, he followed the sound of the voice until he reached the end of the cave. A cage sat there with the key lying only metres away. In the cage sat a man. Or at least that was what it was trying to act like. Occasionally the image of the man flickered, showing the creature’s true appearance: a thin little thing with such little meat on it, it was practically a skeleton. Klaus thought it looked like some sort of hell-demon his brothers told him stories about as a child. ‘Power,’ it croaked as Klaus came nearer. ‘I can give you power.’ ‘How?’ Klaus asked, ignoring his better half that

was warning him to leave. ‘Set me free,’ it whispered, ignoring Klaus’ question. ‘And I will give you all the power you desire.’ Klaus picked up the key which was so old that you could barely see what it originally had looked like due to the rust. ‘Just like the king,’ the creature whispered. ‘The king?’ Klaus asked, his interest peaked. ‘I gave him what he wanted but he didn’t set me free.’ The creature laughed maniacally and looked up at Klaus. ‘Now hell awaits him. But that won’t happen to you if you let me go.’ Klaus moved forward again a little uneasily. ‘Promise?’ The creature smiled. ‘Promise.’ Slowly Klaus moved forward and unlocked the cage. As the cage door swung open, the creature ran out pushing Klaus over, the picture of the man disappearing as it became the demon. It ran off on all fours, leaving him alone. Klaus stood up, and turned to leave. However all he faced was a cave wall. Turning around in circles he found himself trapped in a tiny cave. By the ground beside him a tiny pool formed. ‘What have you done?’ came a voice. Klaus glanced around but couldn’t see anyone. The cave was empty. The flame from the torch reflected off the pool that had now completely formed, before finally going out. Now in the darkness, Klaus shivered as the voice spoke again. ‘Do you have any idea who that was?’ Klaus opened his mouth to reply but the voice didn’t wait. ‘Asmodeus, the demon king. He’ll bring lust for power everywhere he goes.’ ‘I didn’t know,’ Klaus replied quietly trying to push back the guilt. ‘No,’ the voice replied softly. ‘You let your need and want for power control you. Power brings nothing but corruption. And for this you must be

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r Yea punished. You’ll stay here for as long as power controls mankind. You’ll not age and you won’t die,’ the voice told him. ‘You’ll watch power corrupt others and you’ll know that you caused it.’ Klaus’ heartbeat sped up as panic set in. ‘No,’ he whispered as the pool shimmered and images of the great king were seen. He was sentencing villagers to death and smiling with joy. ‘Wait!’ Klaus shouted but received no reply. He was alone with the images in the pool. For years, centuries, and even millennia Klaus watched power corrupt the human race. He watched power take over millions of lives and time after time regretted the day he walked into the cave. He watched Napoleon try to take Russia and stared helplessly at those who lost their lives because of him. ‘Power is my mistress. I have worked too hard at her conquest to allow anyone to take her away from me’ he had said. ‘It’s not truth that matters but victory’ Hitler said as the need for power took over and corrupted him. Klaus watched millions being slaughtered in the name of power. Klaus watched mankind destroy themselves as they fought each other for power. Their corrupted minds led them to believe power was the most important thing and that without it they couldn’t survive. Eventually the earth was destroyed. The humans had killed it with their constant fighting. The wars had ruined the landscapes and the nuclear bombs polluted the water. It didn’t take long for humankind to die out. At long last Klaus sat back and closed his eyes. The pictures in the pool had stopped. The voices echoing in the cave were gone. He took his final breath, at last at peace.

Conno r Mem some

I will get up and go now, go to Delgany I will go to the bakery where cakes and breads are made, Then to the butcher, where all the hams will be glazed in sauces such as gravy. And it shall be peaceful, because all the cars drive slow, Driving around the winded, narrow bends. Not many people walk because the footpaths all say no, But people cycle around yet.

New York Secon

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Adam O’Reil ly

The city that never sleeps, The subway rumble, The streets a neon jungle, Bumping into people, Causing them to tumble. More light than the sun, Outsiders look up, Locals look straight, Taxis go past at snail pace, The city that never sleeps.

Extracts

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” d o o G n a h T m Har e r o M s e o D Opposition ”Aid

Thomas

Laura

Half of the world’s people, one in two men, women, and children, live below the poverty line. Aid helps those who are suffering, and does not exist without a fundamentally constructive basis – Seeing a problem, Offering a solution, Observing the effect. As author Wayne Dyer once said – “When you live on a round planet, there’s no choosing sides”. Today we acknowledge that our planet is troubled, and the best solution to solving its problems is aid. Alone we are weak, but together we can make a difference. If the world community, our global village, unites today, we can truly see things change for the better. Today we’ve come to an intersection between selfishness and altruism, receiving and giving, right and wrong. We’re not here to tell lies that aid is perfect – we’re here to say it’s the best solution available to a world in crisis. The Irish seanfhocal ‘Gioraíonn beirt bóthar’ says, to shorten the road. The Swahili proverb ‘Haba kibaba’ has an identical meaning. Regardless of culture or language, people around the world understand that a united approach is essential to solving any problem. We acknowledge that aid is imperfect, but rather than dismissing its benefits, we need to work together to repair this path towards eradicating poverty.

Ladies and gentlemen, we acknowledge that we at home have problems of our own, however, we must recognise the true scale of the problems in the undeveloped world. For every one homeless person in Ireland there are 25,000 homeless people in the Third World alone. How can anyone argue that we simply forget about the 100 million homeless, according to the UN, until we eradicate homelessness in Ireland. How can we ignore the 30,000 children that are going to die today from curable diseases? How can we ignore the 30,000 children that are going to die tomorrow and the next day and next week from curable diseases? Ladies and Gentlemen it is our responsibility to give overseas aid to help those who are so desperately in need. I would like to remind the opposition that NGO’s are included in the Irish Aid definition of overseas aid and therefore they should take into account the work of NGO’s as well as governmental aid in their arguments. Whether you measure poverty by the one and a half billion people living on less than a euro a day, the one billion who go hungry each day, or other indicators such as the eight million children who die each year from preventable diseases such as pneumonia, diarrhoea and malaria, poverty on the scale it exists today is an affront to our common humanity. It also carries a significance beyond national borders and is therefore of global importance. International water day, last Thursday, highlighted the 33 members of our global village that live without water. A child dies every 20 seconds from water-borne diseases, according to UNICEF, that means in the course of my speech 12 children will have died.

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Before the proposition accuse us of crippling these countries even further, have they asked the people of these respective countries their view? Have you asked them their views on the clean water providing health and hygiene for their towns and villages? Have you asked them about the education systems in place providing their children with a brighter future? And have you asked them about the thousands, if not millions, of lives we are not only improving, but saving, with medical care and attention, schemes and additional extra help. Without such stepping stones across such a vast lake of poverty, they’ll drown in the corruption and hardship threatening to destroy their country. We agree that independence should be there, and encouraged, but you can’t mend something without giving support to help it stand on it’s own two feet first. Sustainable development through aid creates stronger economies, with more consumers to trade and do business with in our interconnected global marketplace. This, in turn, creates growth opportunities at home and abroad. Effective development through aid directly improves the lives of the world’s poor and contributes toward a thriving international economy that serves our shared economic interests. That’s why, even in these tough times, as Laura has said, foreign assistance is a good investment and, when done right, delivers results. There is no Them. There are only facets of Us.

Let’s look at UNICEF in the recent Typhoon in the Philippines. Over 6000 people died when this violent storm hit their country. Harmful, would you not agree? UNICEF immediately got on the ground with relief packs for all. These packs contained clean water filters, nourishment, and a blanket, as well as giving out vaccinations to protect children from the outbreak of measles and polio. This direct help had a huge impact on the destroyed lives of the people in the Philippines, and all of the money, was raised by people like us. The power of charity really assists the destruction of poverty, and with meaningful local work, they understand exactly where the money should go. I find it ludicrous to believe that these great bodies are harmful. With experience and the right knowledge, it’s organisations like this that defile all the propositions arguments. So I’d like to leave you with a quote from the Buddha. “Thousands of candles can be lit from a single candle, and the life of the candle will not be shortened. Happiness never decreases by being shared.” We must share our help, and we MUST aid those in need.

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Let’s face it, most of us are self centred these days. We give and we get, that’s the way we see it. We never think beyond “getting” but we really should consider the benefits of giving without the selfish notion of wanting in return. Of course, it is easy for me to sit here and write this, but harder to put into practice. So it’s my job to persuade you of the huge benefits to ones life in giving and not receiving. When we give we naturally think of what we could be receiving, we never think of just giving and feeling satisfied that the other person has received something. Think about how you feel when you receive something, you feel great and really appreciate that person’s thoughtfulness. So why wouldn’t we give more to others when we know the wonderful effect it has on us when we receive ourselves. Take for instance when you see someone standing in the rain shaking a box trying to get money for charity. As you walk over to this person and drop a few coins into the box as soon as you’ve heard the clatter of the copper coins you immediately become overwhelmed with this warm feeling that no one can describe. No matter how small the amount is, as Anne Frank said “No one has ever become poor by giving.” Giving puts you in a happy and positive mood so why wouldn’t we give more often? We are in a mega crisis at the moment. People have no money. They need our help, and they need our support. Our hospitals can’t bed our sick patients, our charities can barely raise enough money, our elderly people are at their wits end having lost all their bank shares and pensions through the horrific banking crisis that has engulfed our country. And the government? Are they more interested in sending millions of euros to war torn countries like Syria when the real help is needed at home. We can hardly support our own people so why

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It’s Better to Give Than to Receive

send money abroad when we need it right here? Charity represents care and consideration towards others. We need to have charity at home before we begin elsewhere. It doesn’t matter how much you give, as Mother Teresa said; “if you can’t feed 100 people then just feed one.” As a nation we are spoilt with the continuous receiving of gifts, Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, birthdays, Christmas, need I go on? All these conventional holidays are invented by industries just to make more money. Years ago you used to get one orange in your stocking for Christmas, but even that idea now is laughable. We’ve become selfish, we need to learn again to give rather than to receive. Thousands of charities are giving today. They are teaching us how to be charitable and thoughtful, so learn from them. Charities like St Vincent De Paul help people in need and give back to the community, they are continuously giving and they don’t expect anything in return. Now it’s time for the people of Ireland to turn the tables and start giving, it will definitely leave everyone feeling better about themselves and make a difference in the world. Life is like a boomerang, what you give you get back a thousand fold.

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Afghanistan

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Afghanistan, the country of camel riding terrorists with loaded AK-47s, who wouldn’t want to pop in for a quick kebab? Trepidation overwhelms your average Joe Bloggs when they think of the Middle East but personally, I find their controversies fascinating. I would give anything to go. I believe the world is like a painting and those who do not travel see it only in black and white. It is hard to pinpoint my precise need to go to Afghanistan. Maybe my yearning sparks from the countries colossal history. It is a nation that has undergone extreme social, economic and natural disasters in recent years alone. In some parts of the country, poverty practically grows on trees. Yet, like the temple of Banyan, through much oppression and bombing Afghanistan and its people still stand strong. Their resilience, forbearance and hope are admirable and I must admit I have a burning desire to meet them, to listen to them and most importantly to learn from them. I wish to embrace their old fashioned Eastern traditions into my materialistic Western life. While Ireland offers us its own landscape that is lush and green it is my notion to seek a different climate and surrounding. The clime of Afghanistan is unique and like no other. It ranges from -5°C to 35°C which means one minute I could be sporting a tan and the next I could be skiing (well realistically sliding) down the Pamir Mountains. Other activities I intend to try when I get there include; sandboarding in Registan, dog sledding in Bamyan Province and dune bashing in Dashti Margo. Who wouldn’t want to experience these once in a lifetime opportunities? Not only do I regard Afghanistan as the motherland of distinctive weather and diverse activities but also the home of exclusive and elegant attractions. In my opinion, from the religious emblem of Minaret of Jam to the archaic zoo of

Kabul to the awe inspiring region of Reddit, one is always entertained. From towering mountains to meandering rivers to oceans of sand, Afghanistan has a vast array of sites I want to see. I believe that images I have viewed on the internet fail to truly captivate the incredible landmarks the country has to offer. I do not know about you but food plays a major role in my life and Afghan food is one of favourite kinds. It is a tasteful fusion of the Middle East’s most delicious home grown produce and as much as I crave Marks and Spencer’s numerous packaged attempts I have a mouth-watering aspiration to try real Afghan food, food that has been seeded, blessed and freshly cooked in its homeland. Ranging from shorma to mauta to korma there is something to satisfy each of my taste buds. We have all been born with an innate nomadic instinct. It is what drove Bartolomeu Dias to Africa, Sir Wally Herbert to the North Pole and what will drive me to Afghanistan (when I am eighteen and my parents can no longer dictate where I travel). Although I am only seventeen years old I have to come to the understanding that it is memories we cherish rather than materialistic goods so while Afghanistan may not possess the sky rise shopping malls of New York or wifi, the country offers customs and a completely disparate walk of life. I believe that the experience will provide me not only with the wealth of a new culture but also a colourful perspective of life. I look forward to going there in what I hope to be the near future.

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A Visit from St. Nicholas

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At quarter past ten my mother did say, ‘To bed with you now, it’s almost Christmas day!’ My whole being was tingling with thrill and delight As I ran to the stairs like a robin in flight. I flung the door open to my precious bedroom, With its holly and baubles of which it festooned. I flung my pyjamas on, turned out the light, Then jumped into bed for a long, sleepless night. Lost in my reverie, I didn’t first hear, The jingle of sleigh bells and snorts of reindeer. It was five minutes later that I did realise, Santa was here, what a nice, sweet surprise! I knew he was here because in the darkness A voice was whispering in tones full of stress, “What shall I do?” his voice did say, “I’ve run out of presents to give away!” Then a small gasp did escape from my lips, I said, “How could it be that I should be missed?” The person stopped talking, and out through the door Came a tall, portly figure that I did so adore! “I heard you, dear child, and now do please say Do you really think you’d be forgotten this day? A day full of happiness, pleasure and joy, A special day to every girl and boy.”

Santa then turned to me, and he did say, “Now, my child, please look this way, Your house is the last at which I shall stop, So I’ll find you a present if I have to shop!” “Shop?” I enquired, full of surprise. I thought, “What does he mean by this enterprise?” “But Santa,” I murmured, “You never shop, Your elves make the gifts – oh do they not?” That’s the last I remember of that special night, And the very next morning I did get a fright! For under the branches of the Christmas tree Was a crimson red sleigh with a small note for me. It read, “Sorry dear child, I heard what you said, And after I had put you into your bed I thought ‘I am Santa! I do not shop! ’So since you were my very last stop… I bestow upon you my very own sleigh Should you ever need to make a quick getaway. Please take good care of it as I need it each year, But, for the moment I don’t need it here.”

is an Acceptable Defence for War Crime

The greater the power, the more dangerous the abuse. The true fault of what we’re discussing today lies not with those who follow orders, but those who give them. My name is Thomas Rafferty, and with my partner Ferdy, I’m here to propose the belief before us today, that “I was just following orders” is an acceptable defence for war crimes. We have to ask ourselves, what are the underlying doctrines of armies? Keeping peace, fighting for justice, or a happy medium between the two? One thing that is certain about times of war is that rules and regulations are imperative to effectiveness. When countries are in the throes of conflict, the last thing troops should have to worry about is the outbreak of another war, inside their own ranks. Therefore, because of the important duties armies have to carry out, it’s only natural that stringent regulations are imposed. What the army does, is strip away the self-centered nature of soldiers, and move them towards altruism. Everything about the army is selfless; working in a team, relieving the burdens of others, fighting towards a common goal. This leads us to what is a simple logical conclusion – if soldiers work and fight on behalf of the army as a unit, can an individual really be held accountable for actions taken with the common good in mind? Ideally, we would live in a perfect world. However we cannot just pretend we live there. Yes, soldiers shouldn’t have to abide by morally questionable orders, but in the army there is often no alternative. Furthermore, numerous aspects of legal systems apply to the motion before us. Consider the defence of duress for example. This defence operates in favour of those who commit crimes because they are forced or compelled to do so by circumstances, or the threats of another. The principle we believe in today is not revolutionary

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”I Was Just Following Orders”

or insurgent, but one already upheld by worldwide law. Ferdy will expand on this point. The defence “I was just following orders” has been depicted by the opposition as a false way out of a tricky situation, but in countless cases, this is simply not true. The opposition completely disregards the real human people behind these court cases. Take a look at the US Army’s website, and immediately appears the soldier’s creed, an ethos taught to, and upheld by, every soldier. It says, “I am a member of a team. I will place the mission first. I will follow the orders given.” Today, we defend those who commit atrocities in war, not because they decided it’d be fun to do so, but because they are taught to follow orders, and do just that. What we have come to, is an intersection between principle and practicality, risk and fear. If a soldier is told to “PULL THE TRIGGER”, they reach a heinous dilemma – They can follow orders, and kill who is branded as evil by their ranks, or they can run the risk of being stripped of responsibility, being tried by a court martial, and in some situations, even being killed. The reason we oppose this motion is that this dilemma is reality for countless soldiers. The opposition tell us that they should act autonomously – but when you’re told to jump from a cliff with a gun to your head, you jump. Why? Because justice and law are supposed to provide a safety net. All we ask is that this be kept in place. As Winston Churchill said, “A man does what he must. That is the basis of all human morality”. When faced with moral conundrums, we have to separate practicalities from principles, the ideal from what’s real, righteousness from human nature. By proposing this motion today, we do what we must, in solidarity with those who do the same.

Fight

The ride home from the hospital was quiet. I kept running the doctor’s word through my head again and again. The words blur together. Severe Frontotemporal dementia… two months at most.. make him comfortable.. try not to stress.. symptoms will worsen.. I’m sorry. I don’t sleep that night, even though I’m exhausted. The walls are thin but I don’t get up to comfort my Dad when I hear him grieving in the other room. We both need time alone with our thoughts. The next morning I drive to school. Peter and Paige, meet me at the doors. “Are you alright?” they ask. “I’m fine” I lie. Peter then begins to complain about chemistry and I’ve never been more thankful for him not pressing, for not asking what I know he wants to. Paige smiles and I can see the relief in her eyes. I spend most of the day numbing my throbbing mind with the balm of useless chatter. It’s in history that everything goes wrong. Paige nudges my arm. It’s my turn to read the next paragraph. Looking down at the little black and white characters, I start to read. I’m reading. I’m reading but the words aren’t coming out. My tongue lies useless and heavy in my mouth, the few words that do come out are slurred and scrambled. I feel my breath hitch and I can’t see. The world is blurred. Suddenly familiar hands are guiding me out of the classroom into the hallway. “Just breathe Derek. Derek can you hear me?” the words shift and tremble as they enter, distorted, in my ear. “Peter he’s burning up, we need to take him to a hospital” I tried to dismiss the words but I can’t speak. My tongue is like lead in my mouth and I want to cry because my mum had years, why do I only have months? Suddenly I feel myself being supported and taken somewhere. I don’t fight

them. I’m too nauseous, too dizzy, I feel myself being lowered onto a seat. I hear a door slam and an engine start. Before I know it, I’m at the hospital and nurses are rushing towards me. Peter lays me down on a stretcher. I want to open my eyes but I can’t because every movement makes me want to get sick. A soft hand squeezes mine for a second but then like a ghost it’s gone and I’m alone; The pinprick of a needle and then comforting darkness. When I wake up I’m covered in a scratchy hospital blanket. I turn my head and see Peter and Paige asleep in the chairs next to my bed, both asleep. The door opens and a doctor walks in. She walks over and places a hand on my forehead. “Your fevers broken, you’ll be fine” she whispers. I really don’t care, “Where’s my Dad?” “With another doctor, he’ll be here soon”. Just as she says that, the door is opening again and Dad is walking in. He looks older. He doesn’t bother being quiet as he pulls up a chair. Peter and Paige start awake. They smile when they see that my eyes are open. “Kids could you give the doctor and I a moment alone with Derek?” I take a deep breath. “It’s alright Dad, just tell them. They’ll find out soon enough anyway.” Dad rubs a hand over his face and the room is silent. For a moment I think he’s going to start speaking but when he opens his mouth no words come out. My mouth is dry. “Do you remember when I went in for the MRI?” I ask, not looking at them. “Well, they found something”. I look pointedly at the white wall at the white wall at the other end of the room. “I have what my Mum had, exactly what she had”. The silence is deafening. “How long do you have?” Peter asks, his voice is hesitant, muffled, trembling and laced with pain. I don’t reply. I look at my Dad expectantly. He looks at me and takes a deep breath.

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“Something like what happened today only happens in the late onset. They’re saying that you have two weeks… maybe less”. Two weeks. I look at my friends. Peter’s fists are clenched. Paige’s eyes are void of emotion. I turn to the doctor, “do you think you can get out of here? I feel fine. I just… please?” she nods and leaves the room. “Can you give me a minute to get dressed?” I ask. Dad nods and walks out, shoulders hunched. Peter follows him out. “Paige?” I ask. She’s standing frozen at the door. “I don’t care anymore” I whisper. “You can’t be dying,” she whispers, obviously in denial. “Well I am and I’m going to die alone and afraid because I won’t remember any of you. Do you want to know how I know that? Because that’s how my mum died and Paige, that’s how I’m going to die and…” I shake my head “I don’t care anymore”. “You can’t think that…” she says, turning to face me. “Can’t I? You don’t care, you never have! You didn’t notice me until you needed me! And now I’m dying” I roared “so I can think what I damn well want… I won’t be thinking for much longer”. I breathed. Paige walked up to the bed and placed her hand my cheek. I saw the tears rolling down her cheeks. “When I was ten years old, I saw a boy. He was this little ball of energy that terrorized adults. Of course I noticed you. I’ve always noticed you. I noticed you even more when you suddenly started growing up. You’re not that gangly little boy anymore, you’ve become, as clichéd as it sounds, a hero”. “I’m not a hero”. “But you are because no matter how and things got, you kept smiling because we needed you to.

You’ve always done everything for us, Derek, and now it’s time to let us do something for you”. “There’s not much you can do”. I whisper, blinking back tears, Paige lets a sob escape her lips. “I can be there for you until the end. I’m not going to let you die alone, I promise”, she says. I pulled her into my arms and hugged her tightly. I decided there and then that I would yet again put others above myself. No matter how much I wanted to succumb to the darkness, I would fight, Fight for Myself. Fight for Paige. Fight for Dad. Fight for Peter. Fight for Mum. Fight for Us.

Young people today have lost their individuality

For my eighteenth birthday, I was gifted with a small notebook from one of my best friends. At first, I did what all spoiled teenagers do in that situation and adopted the facade I like to call, “It’s exactly what I wanted!” Sure it was. For my eighteenth birthday, all I wanted was more paper. No, thank you, I had seen enough notebooks and paper at this point, all courtesy of that ominous Leaving Certificate. Yet, this notebook was different. It was a journal and at the top of every page was a neatly typed question. Three hundred and sixty five questions. Five years. One thousand, eight hundred and twenty five answers in order to recognise how you evolve over time. The idea of the journal struck me as particularly unique and as I turned to this morning’s date, the question simply read, “What makes you you?” The question sat open upon my desk which was inundated with past exam papers, Chemistry and Physics textbooks and the ubiquitous, half-empty Bic biros and I was suddenly struck by this question. What does make me me? What makes each of us unique in a world where conformity is mandatory? Every other Leaving Cert student in the country was faced with the same overwhelming exams that I was and sat at home surrounded by these oppressive books. Just as I was. So where in this assiduous, modern world, has our individuality gone? In this global economic crisis, it is no wonder that we spend so much time desperately attempting to stalk celebrities “exciting” lives. Our lives have become increasingly uniform and ultimately, boring. Despite being all unique, we are all somehow, in some bizarre turn of events, beginning to look, sound and act increasingly similar. On Instagram, Facebook and Twitter we are rewarded for conforming. Thankfully, I never jumped on the “Tweet a picture of my breakfast” bandwagon. In fact, I alighted the Twitter train as soon as possible. Yet, in the time that it takes me to write this sentence over 45,500 tweets will

have been posted through this particular social networking phenomenon, and don’t get me started on Facebook. To this day, I struggle to see the individuality expressed in any such a website that demands around the clock updates. Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram have become purveyors of the interesting. In a world, where a myriad of individual lives have become one massive smear on a blue and green background, we strive for the abnormal. In a recent book published by Murray Davis entitled, “That’s Interesting!”, the author details how our lives have become a vicious hunt for something out of the ordinary. We are on a manhunt for the interesting and yet, in my opinion, we’re hunting in all the wrong places. Davis references some of the greatest theorists to have walked the planet, including the likes of Sigmund Freud but proposes an interesting idea. “It has been long thought that a theorist is considered great because his theories are true, but this is false. A theorist is not considered great because his theories are true but because they are interesting.” We are on the hunt for the interesting, the aberrant, the extraordinary. Ultimately, we are on the hunt for our individuality. It can often get a bit overwhelming for young people surrounded by such a dizzying array of influences. Unfortunately, it becomes the easiest option to simply, follow the crowd, no matter where the crowd is headed. Underage drinking has become an increasingly pressing issue in Ireland, today as a result of the lurking demons of peer pressure. When part of a crowd, it is easier to share the blame among all the members. My mother’s adage has quite simply become, “Well if so-and-so jumped off a cliff, would you?” The answer, I’m afraid is, quite possibly we would. In an episode of ‘Dara O’Briain’s Science Club’, the concept of crowd behaviour was explored, much to my intrigue. A group of participants were placed in a hall with two emergency exits at opposite

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ends. The crowd was simply told to walk around and mingle and in an anomalous game of musical chairs, when the alarm sounded they were to run to the north exit. It seemed easy enough. However, two or three participants were instructed to surreptitiously leave through the south exit. Of course, when the alarm sounded over two thirds of the crowd ran through the south exit along with the handful of instructed individuals. Science journalist Alok Jha later remarked, “We are all intelligent individuals and we like to think we go through this world making rational decisions about what we do. What this research shows is, subconsciously, we love to be part of the crowd more than we think.” Sorry, mum but yes there is a high chance that if a group of my friends jumped off a cliff, I would too. In a crowd, a large amount of pragmatic and logical thinking seems to evaporate and is replaced by an inherent need to fit in. We have become part of the blur, part of the masses. Instead of searching for the individuality in our own lives, we search for it in others’. We find comfort in conforming. As Rita Mae Brown once said, “I think the reward for conformity is that everybody likes you except yourself.” There is an inherent desire deep rooted in mankind to be unique and to be ourselves. Yet, we remain trapped within the parameters of society’s conventions. I hope you pardon my cynicism because in many respects, society does reward individuality. At the end of the day, it is those who are brave enough to rebel against the status quo and harbour enough courage to proudly be different, who always seem to live life to the full. Of course, I feel obliged to drop names such as Steve Jobs, Walt Disney, Nelson Mandela, names that will be scattered across all Leaving Certificate English essays, come June. These people didn’t follow the paths that were set out for them. Steve Jobs, the iconic college dropout has become a resounding name

in every household around the world for almost singlehandedly revolutionising the technology industry. Admittedly Jobs has left many iconic quotes which have been exhausted with overuse in every speech ever written and yet Jobs clearly recognised the dangerous path to uniformity that we are on. “Here’s to the misfits, the rebels, the troublemakers, the round pegs in the square holes... Because those who are crazy enough to think that they can change the world, are the ones who do.” Thankfully, these handful of people manage to cut through the curtain of conformity hung by Facebook, Twitter and Instagram. Their entreaty for mankind to retain individuality echoes across the world to this day. Ironically, in many respects the question can be raised, are we once again conforming if we emanate the work of these inspirations? Is there no end to the copy-cat effect? However, in an age where discrimination is being slowly filtered out of our societies, there seems to be an optimistic turning of the tide. For our generation, we have been raised as more accepting personalities who are capable of appreciating individuality in society, whatever glimmers do remain. It seems to me that we have become more tolerant of individuality in all its forms. Despite our innate desire to be part of a crowd, there is also a burning passion to belong to something more. If we must remain in groups, at least we can work together towards a more positive future. So as I stare blankly at this journal in front of me, I have something of an epiphany. What makes me, me? My avidity and hunger for taking the road less travelled by. Even if I share my journey with others, I am striving for a better world. I am striving to be a leading light for individuality in all it’s forms and that will make all the difference.

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“All our dreams can come true – if we have the courage to pursue them.” Walt Disney, iconic internationally for his philanthropy, good heart and for creating the Disney studios, spoke these wise words about his vast experiences in animation. Of course nobody believed his goal of creating and producing successful animated movies. Everybody probably mocked his aims but he didn’t let that put him down because he knew that one day they would all be kissing his feet. This is a life lesson for all of us. A lot of people are terrified of sharing their hopes and dreams for the risk of being teased and called naive or crazy, however it’s the crazy and the naive that makes this world what it is. They don’t care what anyone thinks because they know that they will live up to their aspirations and that nobody can stop them. It’s these kind of people that are the driving force to a brighter future. The entrepreneurs, the scientists, the artists, the musicians, the dreamers. Nobody ridicules the boring but who wants that? Stuck in a dead end job, doing something you hate, barely paying your bills. It is the people who try to make something of their life, to stand out. Those people who work and strive to see their name in lights will one day be the next generation of role models, whilst doing something they love. Let’s take Jennifer Lawrence for example. She didn’t just wake up and become an Oscar winning actress overnight, she went to countless auditions and worked diligently to perfect her craft. Yes, it only took one movie for her to become a star but do you know how hard she had to work to get that role? Nothing comes easily to anyone but life is what you put into it! The harder you work, the more likely it is for your dreams to come true. I’m not saying that somebody who doesn’t already have a talent for singing can be a singer just because they work hard, I’m saying that if you

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have the guts to go out and tell the world “I want to be an artist” without being afraid, nothing is impossible. Everybody has a goal of some shape or form but only the people who work hard day and night will have a chance of them coming true. How can you work hard if you’re too scared to even talk about what you strive to become? Life is short but this generation has the opportunity to do what they really want to whether it’s becoming a footballer, a businessman, a teacher, a parent or whatever you want to do. It is hard to imagine that in two years-time we will all be sitting our leaving cert after being in school for over ten years and that in another three we will hopefully be in college studying our dream course. Add another ten years and the future that we are currently speaking of now will be present. Nothing lasts forever and we don’t always get second chances. I think people will be surprised by the amount of respect they will get once they are honest to themselves and are not afraid to tell everyone what they strive to become. Walt Disney wasn’t afraid so why should you be?

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The world is a very big place Colossal in fact. So when asked where one “has never been to but would like to visit” I cannot help but step back and ponder for a few moments where this place may be. In our modern world, the new phenomenon of the internet provides us with a medium to voyeuristically browse all corners of the globe. It might be my own pessimistic outlook, but I cannot trust the idyllic images of these so called “beautiful places”. Being an Irish person myself, I cannot quite digest the Instagram filtered images of the Cliffs of Moher with the sunrise creeping over the horizon. I have been to the Cliffs of Moher and was exceptionally underwhelmed by the sight which stood before me as I observed it through the misty rain and crisp autumn chill. My anticlimactic voyage to this Irish landmark sparks the desire in me to actually travel somewhere and judge for myself whether or not it deserves to be credited as one of the most outstanding places on earth. Our planet consists of 510,072,000 km² and has a population of 7.046 billion people. No matter how vast your resources or how long you live, it is impossible to visit every place or meet a person from every culture. So unfortunately the only thing we can do is choose wisely and hope that the places that we do decide to visit are as enriching and fulfilling as we had hoped. One of the places which I would have a particular curiosity in visiting is the Caribbean. The general area has an air of bliss and tranquility. Although it has been commercialised in the past few years with the emergence of countless holiday resorts full of dewy eyed honeymooners, it maintains its sense of intrigue in my opinion. The entire sea is spotted with hundreds of islands all comprised of a myriad of cultures. From Jamaica to Barbados, the variety of languages and types of people is vast indeed. The people of the Caribbean from the outskirts at least, give the impression that they are a “happy go lucky” bunch. (I must admit however, their outlook does not seem unusual given the magnificence of their location. Who wouldn’t want to dabble in the crystal clear waters every

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morning or stroll along a white sandy beach each evening?). Cheerfulness and optimism appear to permeate every facet of life in the Caribbean. Flicking through any travel brochure, you are supplied with countless images of grinning locals just enticing you have a chunk of the juicy watermelon that is the Caribbean experience. As a self-admitted Bob Marley fanatic, I find the prospect of visiting the home of reggae music very exciting. The Rastafarian who infused his music with a profound sense of spirituality could even serve as my sole reason for wanting to see Jamaica. I have the impression that the pace of life there echoes the slow tempo of the Nyabinghi drum and all of the words spoken are something along the lines of “let’s get together and feel alright”. The meditative tone of the music captures the serene atmosphere of the place and the inclusive lyrics depict the welcoming nature of the inhabitants. On another note, I also believe the Caribbean to hold an element of adventure and mystery. This proclamation may just be a direct result of my fondness of the “Pirates of the Caribbean” movies; however the prospect of surfing, water skiing and other outdoor activities would serve this fantasy. The whole Caribbean package replete with the coconut sun cream and Havaiana flip flops seems to me like the perfect getaway. We all want to sip the tropical cocktails as the sun sets or lounge under the palm trees. We all want to witness for ourselves the panoramic views and splash in the turquoise water. The Caribbean is almost on as a high a pedestal in my imagination as Neverland. Arguably it may not be wise to venture to the area for fear that the reality may shatter my illusions and will no longer serve as the place of refuge in my mind. Yet, if the experience is even a quarter as spectacular as my expectations it will most definitely trump my dire trip to the Cliffs of Moher and I consider that a success.

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Maggie

Piece Writt en for the First Year Drama Produ ction ”What Are They Li ke?” “Maggie was always… creative. Her mind was open to new ideas and new things, something I had myself. When she was younger, she was very close with her grandmother. She begged and pleaded for me to take her to my mothers. Sometimes I thought, she loved her more than me. Well, after she died, Maggie was heartbroken. But like some children, Maggie got back to her old self. She played in her room, drew pictures, danced around. I thought she was happy... “About a year or so after, I saw Maggie sitting on the ground with a tea set I had gotten her. She was talking to someone. I asked her who and she said ‘My best friend, Jamie!’ I thought it was cute, so did her father. We knew Jamie was a replacement for my mother. We didn’t mind. We knew it was a toddler thing. Or so we hoped. “Maggie’s now fourteen. We’d noticed, well I did anyway, that Maggie didn’t really go out. The girls in her class would ring the house and Maggie would make me answer it. I asked her, would you want someone over? Or have a sleepover with your friends? She’d always reply with, ‘I’m too busy’ or ‘nah, it’s grand mum.’ Why didn’t she act like other girls? Wearing makeup or going to parties? Maybe it was just not the right time. “Maggie started to talk to someone in the car the other day,who wasn’t me. I looked in the mirror and saw she was talking to someone next to her, but there was nobody there. It scared me. Maggie who are you talking to? I asked. ‘Jamie,’ she replied, a smile on her face. This isn’t right, I thought. This can’t be right. She’s fourteen for god sake! The car trip was silent, but not with the usual feeling it gave me. Usually I’d be happy to see my baby girl, but now I was scared, confused and angry. “A week of this, her coming home and talking to Jamie. I told her this has to stop, but each conversation ended in an argument. I hated it. She hated it. But when Friday came round, something

happened. She ran up to the car, a smile on her face, a REAL smile. I was glad that she was actually happy. I pulled down the window. ‘Can Shannon come over Mum?’ I couldn’t believe it. She made a friend, a real friend. She came over, and they sat in the room, chatting, and I sat downstairs, smiling. “We dropped Shannon home. I looked at her through the rear view mirror. ‘No Jamie?’ I asked. ‘He’s found a new friend.’ She looked at me with a grin.”

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Always there Evelyn C linton

She always holds my hand, No matter how little I am. She always cheers me up With her wonderful bird Galte. She always gives me a tune With her lovely blue ‘Ute’ for The Island on the Blue Bay. It’s most definitely her, With the pride filled water. The mint from her lips, and the flowers in her hair. I always hear laughter In the air.

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Places one has never visited often hold a certain mystery or fascination

Ever since I was a little girl, I can vividly recall dancing around my living room, much to my parent’s annoyance. I was fixated by a sound which I thought was magical and for much of the early years of my childhood; it was. My obsession began when I was three or four, when I saw it on one of my favourite television programmes airing at the crazed hour of seven am. Looking back on it, I don’t know who in their right mind would be up that early for their favourite show, the thoughts of that time now do nothing less than make my stomach churn but what can I say? Dedication isn’t the word. Let me present to you the place which in my opinion holds an abundance of mystery and fascination, the place which I have a burning desire to visit. India. I can’t quite pinpoint my exact attraction to this age-old country, that I find so captivating. First discovered in 1498 by Portuguese explorer Vasco da Gama, India is home to over one billion people, more than a sixth of the world’s population. This great nation has more than two thousand ethnic groups, every religion represented, and the four major families of languages, and for me, this maintains India’s alluring sense of intrigue. You don’t have to look far to realise it offers a wealth of cultures and I have a yearning to experience a culture completely removed from my own. In my mind this exotic and flamboyant country offers the potential for an experience unlike any other. One aspect associated with India is it’s cuisine. The unique dining experience one has whilst in India is truly one of a kind. The idea of sitting cross legged on the floor, trying an array of dishes with traditional herbs and spices, many I probably can’t pronounce the name of, really appeals to all my senses. Indian cuisine has always and will always be a firm favourite of mine, and if you haven’t tried it, well you must be crazy, because you’ve no idea what you’re missing. Not only does India offer wonderful restaurants

and bars but it also provides a once in a lifetime view of the world’s most famous architectural wonder, The Taj Mahal. Although the internet has provided me with a medium to voyeuristically browse all corners of the globe, I cannot help but find myself constantly seeking for images of this magnificent structure, all the more reason why I want to journey to India and judge for myself whether or not it deserves to be credited as one of the most outstanding places on earth. The Taj Mahal is considered the finest example of Mughal architecture, a form combining elements of Persian, Indian and Islamic architectural styles. In 1983, The Taj Mahal became cited as “one of the universally admired masterpieces of the world’s heritage”. The general area is known for its air of bliss, of tranquility, an archetype of solitude which I am constantly longing to experience for myself. The combination of everything India has to offer for me really is the whole package. Whether its culture, cuisine or charming serenity, there really is something for everyone. However, I sometimes wonder if it may not be wise to venture to this beautiful country, for fear that the reality may shatter my childhood fantasy and will no longer serve as the place of refuge in my mind. Yet, if there is one thing to go, which reinforces my longing to visit this majestic place, it’s Mark Twain and his notion that “our most valuable and most astrictive materials in the history of man are treasured up in India only”.

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I find there to be a dull sort of irony in relation to this phrase. I think it is an undisputable fact that young people today, more than ever, struggle to achieve some form of ‘individuality’. Yet when everyone tries to be ‘different’, they tend to all go about in the same way, and ultimately end up more identical than they ever were in the first place. How ironic. In their quest to be different, they have abandoned their true individualism for something they believe (and hope) no one else has. I wonder readers, would we be more individual if we all just remained as we are and discarded this new-found desire to be as different as possible. You see, this notion of ‘being weird to be normal’ is a gross juxtaposition in itself, and one that for someone with a dry sense of humour like me, is actually quite amusing. Don’t get me wrong readers. I believe in individuality as much as the next person, I just feel that young people are trying too hard to be different and that they only end up losing their true personalities in the process. In their quest to be ‘alt’ or ‘hipster’ or whatever it is they like to call it these days, most just end up coming across as more pompous than diverse. Again reader, one has to love the irony of it. Yet there is a flipside, and to be frank I simply can’t decide which of the two is more frightening. For the sake of the wider world community, I sincerely hope that the teenagers of the Western world, particularly the girls, find a third option, and fast. For this new, rapid-spreading army of identical minions is something that I can’t quite decide how to react to. Do I laugh or would I be better off running away in terror? For this zombie-like army of white girls kitted out in skinny jeans, some form of brown fashionably-adapted hiking boots and a green trench coat are fast approaching. Oh, and let’s not forget their deadly ammunition readers, straightened hair and a Starbucks coffee. However, that’s not to suggest that my friends are

all carbon copies of each other. In fact, within said group of friends, everyone is extremely different. Some of us like sport, some like baking, I like sarcasm yet we all still get on. Our individual likes and dislikes make us who we are but I think there is a fine line between embracing these differences and exploiting them. Exploring them, or another preconceived notion of which pastimes are ‘cool’ ‘alt’ or ‘different’ and which aren’t. We are different because we just are and that is why it works. If we all ran around actively trying to be anything but the same, I reckon we’d have no energy left over for just being a friend to someone. Oh how sentimental of me. Within this group, I have a friend who is highly opinionated when it comes to music (as is his right to be I suppose) but if you say you like a certain song to him, you’ll most likely get a condescending “really?”, as if your taste in comparison to his superior one, is simply not ‘alt’ enough and in fact, you’ve become far too mainstream. Yet readers, you must be wondering, how can I argue that young people are losing their individuality while criticising this very different music taste my friend has. You see, it’s because I secretly wonder if he likes the music because he just does, or because its different and, you’ve got it, ‘alt’. I mean who am I to judge his music taste, and I am merely using him as an example, I just worry that in an age where teenage culture is becoming a bigger and better phenomenon by the day that we are losing a hold of who we truly love in the process. Because let’s face it readers, now more than ever, is the age where we can experiment. We have the excuse of being “old enough to know better but young enough not to care” so now is certainly not the time to conform to the gross stereotype that we in fact need to be different. Although, with increasing globalisation and

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celebrity culture, I suppose it must be hard for the fast-spreading, Starbucks clutching zombie army to escape. For it is everywhere they turn. This media culture promotes perfect hair, flawless make up and a generic fashion sense. And, with a Hollister, a Starbucks and a Mac in practically every town and city worldwide, one could argue that it is not just us youngsters who are losing our sense of individuality. Globalisation is a brilliant thing readers, but with it does come a noticeable loss of Irish culture because I’ve found that with each new Starbucks that opens, our ‘Irishness’ gets diluted just a little bit more. We get just a smidge more generic and just a little less traditional. That isn’t to say that everyone has lost their sense of individuality though, in fact some people strive to embrace it. Standing out and being an ‘individual’ is becoming an increasingly popular thing. On this note of ‘being different’, one needs look no further than Karl Lacey, All Star Gaelic footballer and recent winner in the All Ireland’s. Lacey has been bringing his individuality to the pitch ever since 2006 when Adidas sponsored his football boots. Any fan of Gaelic could tell you the colour of Karl’s boots, white. The polar opposite to black (the traditional colour). Karl’s individuality has inspired young people all around the country to be different on the pitch, from pink gloves, stripy boot tape to two toned gum shields and fluorescent yellow under armour. The need to be noticed has grown and is continuously growing in the eyes of teenagers. Yet reader is this where you must turn around and ask are his actions putting pressure on young people in Ireland to have a flair for difference? Does it put pressure on parents to purchase, more elaborate, colourful sporting equipment every year? Because it is for this exact reason that the GAA has now decided to bring in a rule that at least 90% of the boots worn by all must be black! And with rumours of the football world

to follow suit (with the likes of Sir Alex Ferguson speaking out against brightly coloured footwear) one must wonder if this is a positive and needed development or simply a little overkill. So really readers, there are two sides to this argument that young people are losing their individuality. On one hand, many youngsters experience a desperate desire to fit in and will therefore willingly conform to what they think is cool and normal. Then, on the other hand, you have people who try so hard to be different that really, they end up taking the same drastic measures as everybody else, and in the process only become less and less individual. I know I keep saying it reader, but honestly, you have to love the irony of it. But the ultimate truth is that somewhere amidst the Starbucks culture, and globalised cities, with the same dreary school systems and media storms, young people are losing their individuality. And while it’s positive that we all try to make small rebellions to be different, I genuinely believe the best way we can be different is through our authentic likes and dislikes. I respect individuality if it’s done correctly. I don’t understand why people put metal bars through their nose and eyebrows to be different though. So I guess what I am trying to say readers is be different in your personality, that way you get people by surprise. With me, they think “Oh what a seemingly nice, mannerly young person,” then BAM I get them with my sarcasm. I may be twisted but at least I enjoy it. So you see readers, the point I keep trying to reiterate to you all, is that by going out of your way to be different, you have abandoned all hope of ever having the increasingly alien entity. Individuality. It seems the more you try to obtain it, the less chance you have of actually reaching it. So readers, my advice to you is simply quit now, while you’re ahead (or just not miles behind) and stop trying to be an individual and just be one. Just be you. Or is that too mainstream?

The Cave

There was not a cloud in the sky. The sun shone radiantly over the sea making the tiny ripples in the water sparkle. The wild wind blew my hair in all directions as the smell of the coast tickled my nose. I had longed for weather like this all summer, and it was perfect… but then Luke shook the kayak. “Luke!” I shouted as I steadied myself, “stop doing that!” He mocked me as he giggled, “Well excuse me, Ms. Daydreamer, but I was stuck here with no one to talk to.” He flashed his deep, green eyes at me, and smiled. Then sniffed. “You’ll pay for it,” I jeered. I reached my hand into the icy water and splashed him. “Harriet!” With the paddle, he flicked it up, spraying me with millions of droplets, soaking me. The battle was on. The boat shook madly as we rocked from side to side, drenching each other. I shivered, from the cold and from the excitement, when Luke smirked at me. “Oh, no, Luke! No, no, no…” He heaved his weight to his left, and the kayak flipped over, hurling me off it in the process. My body chilled as I entered the water, and Luke was in fits when I floated to the top. I started to laugh hysterically too. Luke was brilliant; he was the only person my age I could hang out with that summer, and he was so nice and witty. Not only did Luke make me smile; the fact that it was the first time in weeks, which felt like years, since the sun was out gave a lovelier atmosphere to the beach on that particular day. Luke even had a cold from the wind, rain and storms before. So, at last, it felt like Summer and I felt like a weight was lifted off my shoulders. When we were back in the kayak, Luke stopped and stared at something behind me. “What are you looking at?” I asked as I turned around. There was a cave in the wall of the cliff, one we had never seen before, now visible because of the low tide, more than likely. I also noticed that we were

a long way from the shore, from our families, and I became anxious. “Have you ever seen it before?” I glanced back at Luke, “No, I haven’t.” “Come on, let’s go in,” he said, after a few moments of gazing. There was an eerie ambiance from the cave that made me feel unsure about going in. “Everyone could be wondering where we are, we should head back.” “Ah, come on Harriet, you have your phone don’t you? If they ring, we’ll head back,” he showed off his pleading puppy eyes to me, “please Harry?” Luke was the only one who called me Harry, and he said it rarely. He was always looking for an adventure, for something new to find or discover, and I suddenly felt a pang of guilt for always turning his ideas down. Just because I was fearful. How silly I was. “Okay, but only for a few minutes,” I told Luke. It was dark and breathtakingly cold in the cave. We pulled the kayak onto the small beach and sat down on the cold sand, my wet skin sticking to it. I loved that feeling. “Not much in here,” Luke said, observing his surrounding. The walls of the cave were the same rock as the cliff, and the water gently drifted in and out in front of us. There were also large rocks behind us, big enough to climb. “No, not really,” I responded, although secretly I was incredibly fascinated by how huge the cave was. “It’d be a fun hang out; we should tell everyone about it.” Luke turned to me, our arms touching. “Or it could be our secret hideout; somewhere we can escape from the mad world,” he stretched his arms up and laid back, his head on his hands. He was so calm; why couldn’t I be like him? I crawled over to the kayak to get my phone from my hopefully waterproof bag. It wasn’t wet luckily, but the time read 3:27pm. We had come out of the water at around three. “We’ve been out here for ages, we should go back…” I was interrupted by Luke’s unexpected

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shushing as he sat up. “Did you hear that?” He asked quietly with a panicked expression on his face. “No what was..?” “HIDE!” Luke whispered loudly. I quickly jumped up, confused, and helped him hide the kayak behind the rocks. Hide from what? I struggled to ask him as I kneeled down beside him; he kept pressing his hand over my mouth. I finally realised what his fuss was about when I heard a deep husky voice. “I’m going to miss that restaurant. That beef stew was delicious.” “Shut up, Steve. Food is the last thing on my mind right now,” another, deeper voice said. I swiftly peeked over the rock. The two men were pulling a rib up onto the sand. They were wearing dark clothes and black hats, and they were both quite tall and muscular. Luke lightly tapped my shoulder signalling to come down in case I’d been seen. “Now, where did we bury that box?” “In the sand over here,” their voices came close and closer, my heart now beating fast. Then they stopped, and I heard one of them kneeling down and another with a shovel, digging up sand. I breathed a soundless sigh. After several minutes, their digging came to a halt. “Ah, here it is finally!” One of them muttered. I heard a key being jiggled around in a lock and a lid, possibly, creaking open. “Wow, the fence is going to be impressed with all this jewellery or whatever you call it. We can sell the lot for thousands! We’ll have enough to leave the country!” I was so scared, but Luke held my hand and squeezed it. “I can’t believe how easy it was to rob those jewellers.” The men sounded thrilled. All of a sudden, Luke sneezed, and my heart stopped. “Who’s there? Come out before we have to come in and find you!” Luke abruptly let go of my hand and mouthed to

me: “stay there.” He went out to the men, the robbers. What is he thinking?! I thought . I tried to shriek at him but my voice was outwardly silent. “Wow, we have a visitor Dave,” said one of the pair - Steve, I guess, “Grab him!” I peeped above the rock. Luke was helplessly trying to get out of the robber’s grips. I had no idea what to do. My mind went black; I just crouched there, transfixed. One of the men - Steve - grabbed ropes from their boat and tied Luke’s hands and legs together. They shoved him aside and I was really starting to worry now! Then an idea came. I checked my phone; I had just one bar. The robbers were arguing over what to do with Luke, but I couldn’t tell exactly as I wasn’t listening properly. I dialled my Dad’s number discreetly, my hands trembling. “Hello, Harriet? Are you alright? Where are you?” “Dad, help us, we’re in trouble! Call the police, and tell them to go to the cave in the cliff on the left side of the beach, quick!” I whispered, the men too loud to hear me. “The thieves stole jewellery and they’ve tied Luke up…” “Oh dear God, Harriet…!” “HURRY!!!” I begged - just as my phone went dead. Where are they? I was thinking over and over, biting my nails. It was a terrible habit of mine. It had been almost ten minutes. Steve and Dave were now questioning Luke. He said he saw, practising for a competition and stopped at this cave to rest. Luke was so brave. “Well, little boy, we’re going to leave you tied up here for intruding in on our private place, alright?” Luke said nothing. I peered over the rock and saw him staring unflinchingly at them. Then, at last, I heard a boat driving into the cave and saw a flash of light shine directly on the men. “Stop right there and raise your hands!” a voice yelled through a loudhailer. But the men began to run to their rib.

Her met Ferdy Em I had to think quickly. I looked down at the kayak and spotted the paddle. I was really thinking of fantastic ideas that afternoon. With ideal timing, I flung the paddle towards them, as hard as I could. The thieves’ feet caught underneath it and they both landed head first into the shallow water in front of them. Some of the guards jumped off the boat into the sea and got a hold of the men. I laughed, completely stunned by what I had done. It was hectic. The guards came over to thank me and asked if I was alright. I was fine, I told them, but my mind was only on one thing. I rushed to Luke. He was standing up, untied by one of the police, and I threw my arms around him. “I’m so sorry Harriet; I got you into all that mess! I…” I shushed him.

A girl I never met,

Dad twisted open his Coke can, letting out a fizz of bubbles. “You two must be the bravest kids that ever existed.” The sun was setting on the horizon, the sky a beautiful shade of dusky red and pale pink. Luke, our families and I sat in a circle of beach chairs chatting about our strange encounter with the jewellery thieves. “I guess we are,” I blurted, sipping my lemonade. I didn’t have much to say; so many feelings were being thrown at me: happiness, relief, excitement, but most of all, pride. I still couldn’t believe what I did. It was so unlike me. I thought I would have screamed and panicked and got Luke and myself into trouble, and we would have been screwed. But I didn’t. I felt like a new person. I didn’t feel timid any more after that action packed day. I looked across at Luke. He was drinking Fanta, sitting on the picnic mat, and our eyes met. He winked at me. I winked back.

That she’ll never see

Known by people I barely knew, Killed herself one night. Of course I stalked her Facebook That’s what one does. I googled her, There were no reports. I don’t know why she did it, But she did. Something made her. Her friends all put up posts Of photos and love Because she’ll never know How loved she was. I never met her. I may never have. Yet she’s left an impact. I guess that’s all it does.

Fifth Yea

The Box ear First Y

Grandfather

more h s A on Dilli I will put in the box The graves of forgotten soldiers

Carolin e Blenn erhasse tt

A tear from a mourning wife The groans of dying men

Second Ye

I will put in the box A mother with a waiting son A recession which will cease to exist

My hand disappears in his two

A ceasing hand which takes your child

Capable hands, still giant,

I will put in the box Dictators who shall rule no more The darkest thoughts of men alive And the belt that hits the child who cries

He is still a giant, A towering encyclopedia and yet shows so much delight In any little piece of news of me. Eyes still strong,

My box is black

Catch mine intently

With fears inside

I would want him as my friend

Its key destroyed, the box never opened

For his eyes alone,

wide

For his wisdom

I shall bury this box Under the hardest of stone Then leave it there alone

No price would be too high to pay. Slippers aloft A book rests in his lap As the record turns.

The box was opened once again

A fine head of hair

And that is the world we live in

Still crowns him.

Free education

Ladies and gentlemen, I am here today to present a case for free education for all in Ireland. First of all, I would like to delineate the basis of my argument. It is important to acknowledge that education comes in many forms. I am not suggesting that everyone should be provided with the same education. Variety is the spice of life, and we certainly do not all fit the same mould. Rather, I am suggesting that free third level education - vocational, apprenticeships, classicalshould be available to those who wish to avail of it. I am arguing that it is a desirable goal and that it is something to strive for in the future. I am not suggesting that it is attainable at the moment, with the economic situation that way that it is today. During my speech, I intend to address the benefits that free education would bring about, both for society and for the individual. I will go on to discuss the practicalities of it. I hope that you will see why it is of paramount importance to continue to move towards the realisation of this goal. It is a common misconception that Ireland offers free third level education. Indeed, we have boasted of it since 1996. However, the ever-growing “registration fees” have climbed to almost €3000 now, and it looks like they will continue to rise for the foreseeable future. The governing bodies of the main Irish universities have openly admitted that registration fees are merely another form of college fees. Something that costs €3000 euro is certainly not free. It is an unfair burden to place on families, especially those with many children. Indeed, it is a sufficient price to put many families under immense pressure. Others simply cannot afford it. It is sometimes argued that education is solely a “personal investment” and that the recipient should pay. This is, however, an impractical view point and it ignores the wider social effects. It also fails to address the multitude of benefits that free education would bring to all strata of society. Open access to wider educations benefits even those who don’t receive it. Although it

sometimes appears unjust that low-paid workers are funding the education of the youths of today, it is not as simple as it seems. We are all intricately interdependent. Think of the bin man paying tax, which is contributing towards a wealthy doctor’s son to attend medical school. On the surface, this may appear unjust. However, in the future, this newly qualified doctor will pay high tax on his high income which will go on to contribute towards the bin-collector’s pension. Money spent on society is money well spent. The money invested in the education of young people is never wasted. These youths will go on to get jobs, to be leaders, to pay taxes and to ultimately fund the pensions of the citizens who paid for their education in the first place. It is a cyclic process and no man is an island. Surely this type of interdependent process which effectively offers a free education with the presumption that you will repay your debt to society later in life in the form of taxes is far preferable to a system where college graduates emerge carrying huge debts alongside their qualifications. We live in the era of the smart economy. Historically, Ireland was known as “The Land of Saints and Scholars”. Although the saintly aspect has fallen by the wayside, largely due to the scandals that have emerged recently in the Catholic Church, we are still a country that places a huge value on the merits of education. As a result of this, we have a large educated workforce which, in turn, has brought many multi-national corporations to our shores. These giants employ colossal numbers of people, from low-paid service providers to whitecollar professionals, and they are of extraordinary importance to our economy. It would not only be a case of false economy, but it would be incredibly foolish to neglect to nourish the very trait that first drew them to our shores. Think of the countries that we are competing with on the international market. Our standard of living is such that we cannot think of effectively competing in the trade of menial factory work.

r Yea

be McCa Aine

h Sixt

We have an educated workforce and we are breaking new ground in every field imaginabletechnology, pharmaceuticals, you name it- we’re competing with the best of the best. The only way to sustain this intense, healthy competition is by continuing to train a skilled workforce, trained to compete with the best of the best. This is not confined to professionals- we will need service providers of every type. The greater our educated workforce becomes, the greater potential we will have to attract lucrative industries. Likewise, education is a necessary tool if we are to continue to nurture our homegrown industries that provide innovation and employment. Everyone, from specialists to workers in the low-skilled sectors benefit from knock-on effects to the economy. Education is of huge importance to individuals too. Although free primary and secondary education is available in Ireland and we are lucky to boast one of the highest literacy rates in Europe, the truth of the matter is that a third level qualification is a basic requirement for the majority of jobs nowadays. It is of utmost importance that we do all in our power to prepare our young people for the lives that lie ahead of them and equip them with the necessary tools to take on today’s world. We don’t want to approach a hypocritical two tier society as depicted in Orwell’s “Animal Farm” where “all animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others”. By providing our youths with education we are allowing them to set out on a level playing field. Inevitably some will succeed, some will fail and the majority will lie somewhere in the middle of the spectrum. The important point is this- if presented with the same opportunities in so far as we can- young adults won’t be marginalised or forced to abandon education due to its cost and their backgrounds. Isn’t that the society that we’re all striving for? The alternatives to free education are poor in comparison and often rife with perverse incentives. In our world of rampant youth unemployment, universally accessible education is not only a good idea, but

necessary in order to allow our young people to prepare for their futures. While I have hopefully convinced you that the provision of free third level education for all is desirable, I, myself am yet to be assured that it is attainable. While it undoubtedly would provide us with an array of benefits in the long run, perhaps the financial implications would be too serious on our country, as we struggle to drag ourselves out of the depths of recession. While we try to steer ourselves onto a bright path to a better future, we must keep the development of this area in mind. In my eyes, our first priority should be those who could not afford an education unless it was provided free. Of course, merit must be rewarded too in order to encourage everyone to strive to do their best. I would like to see a system of free third level education introduced in the upcoming years, based on a combination of necessity and merit, encouraging student to strive to do their best and to appreciate the significant financial investment being made on their behalf. Slowly, as we grow as a nation, I would like to see that system grow and develop until we offer free education to all. This is a goal that our society should set its sights on in the upcoming years. It was a term on the Proclamation of the Irish Republic read by Pádraig Pearse on the steps of the GPO in 1916 that we will “cherish all the children of the nation equally”. It is my firm belief that, through providing free third level education for the young people of Ireland, that we will fulfil the vision central to the creation of our country. It is our duty to the young generation of today to provide them with the necessary edge to make an impact in today’s world, and the only way to do so is through education. As Martin Luther King famously said “Education is the most powerful tool that you can use to change the world”. Let’s provide free education. Let’s cherish our children. Slowly, piece by piece, let’s change the world. Thank you.

Fifth Year Gatsby Competition This year as part of our study of The Great Gatsby our English class created projects showcasing the society, culture and politics of the US during the 1920s. We all took great enjoyment studying and researching such a decisive time in American history and the more artistic among us created collages and sketches of famous images from the time. The standard was high but ultimately Mr Carr narrowed it down to Laura Finnerty, Deanna Kissane, Aoibhinn Gilmore, Caroline Hewitt and Olivia Flanagan as the winners of the competition.

Winners of the Second Year Shakespeare Competition

Sam Hennessy, Aimee Oâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;Caoimh and Amy Carroll

onan n No Eava

Competition Winners

S IEW ERV INT

What is your favourite book? My favourite book would be Shakespeare’s “Macbeth”. I did it for the Leaving Cert and I still have my own school version of it at home, with all my handwritten notes in the margins. I loved it.

Who was your favourite character? Lady Macbeth, of course, being a woman! She is strong and feisty and very ambitious.

Are you reading any books at the moment? I’ve have just started “Star of the Sea” by Joseph O’Connor, so I’m looking forward to that. It is totally different to my usual choice of book.

Who was your favourite author? I like all the thriller writers - they are the books I tend to read and particularly I liked Kay Scarpetta series of books by Patricia Cornwall. - I have read them all!

What was your favourite childhood book? Oh, that’s easy! “The St. Claire’s” series by Enid Blyton. Myself and my sisters used to devour them all. Also books to do with ponies and horses. If it had a horse on the cover.. I read it. We were also encouraged to read the newspaper at home every evening, and I still cannot go a day without reading the newspaper.

What is your favourite quote? My favourite movie quote is the one from Dirty Dancing; “Nobody puts baby in the corner.” My favourite literary quote is from Lady Macbeth “We fail?.. but screw your courage to the sticking place and we’ll not fail” - she would have been a great lady to have on any sporting team!

Patricia Wyse

INT ERV IEW

What is your favourite book?

“Pride and Prejudice.”

What is your favourite film adaption of a book?

What’s your favourite quote? My favourite quote is; “There is no elevator to success. You have to take the stairs.”

What is your favourite cookbook? Nevin Maguire; “Macnean House.”

Who is your favourite author? Agatha Christie. I like to read books about lives that are worse than mine, so I like a good murder.

What is your favourite poem? “Scaffold” by Seamus Heaney..

Ciara O’Connell

“Les Miserables.”

S IEW Are you reading any books at the moment?

INT

ERV

What is your favourite Spanish book? “Pedro Paramo” by Juan Rulfo.

Yes, “Poetry and Prophecy.” What is your favourite book? “Pride and Prejudice.”

What is your favourite poem? “Inversnaid” by Manley Hopkins.

What is your favourite quote? Marian Williamson’s quote: “Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

Who is your favourite author? Louise Hay

Catriona Molloy

INT ERV IEW S What is your favourite book? Hmm...My favourite book would have to be ‘The Kite Runner’. It gave me an insight into what was going on in the Middle East, from the perspective of a young lad. It follows him growing up, from when he was a child all the way to when he was an adult. It was just a really nice read. I read another one of his books, ‘A Thousand Splendid Suns’ and found it a bit depressing. It was a little bit heavier, but still a nice read.

Are you reading anything at the moment? I’m actually going to start a book, ‘The Hundred Year Old Man Who Climbed Out the Window and Disappeared’, I think I’ll start that once the summer holidays hit.

Síle Ní Chéidigh

Who’s your favourite author? Jojo Moyes. She wrote a book called ‘Me Before You’.

What was your favourite childhood book? The Famous Five! I loved all of the characters, especially Timothy the dog. I think it just reminded me of growing up as a child, just having adventures out around the fields and having a bit of fun, so yeah that was probably my favourite book when I was a kid.

IEW

Winner of the ‘Teacher Interview Competition’

Are you reading any books at the moment? I am reading ‘American Caesars’ by Nigel Hamilton, a cracking book on American Presidents, starting with Franklin D Roosevelt and carrying through the different eras. I am also browsing through T.W Moody’s chronology ‘A New History of Ireland’ (Volume VIII), and I have ‘Christine Falls’, a detective novel set in 1950s Dublin, ready to go when we get our holidays.

INT

What is your favourite quote? I understand why quotes are important for students to demonstrate they have read their plays or poetry, and as such they are necessary. But I have never had a favourite one. I think quotes can be overused, even abused. They are sometimes rote-learned and used to conceal what one doesn’t know rather than using academic accuracy to demonstrate real knowledge and control over a topic.

ERV

Kieran Roche

Who is your favourite character? I don’t have any favourite character either, though there have been books where particular characters have been very effective in conveying the hopelessness of a situation. Rashers Tierney from ‘Strumpet City’ or Captain Boyle from O’Casey’s play ‘Juno and the Paycock.’ I rarely read fiction now and if I do it is to relax so I love books of the murder-mystery genre. Inspector Morse of the Colin Dexter novels was a great character.

What is your favourite book ? I don’t have a favourite book as such, but there have been books from different genres that I have enjoyed. As a young teen I enjoyed the thrills from Robert Ludlum’s ‘Bourne’ trilogy and the earthiness of Behan’s ‘Borstal Boy.’ Later I read plays to get an insight into the society and people behind a particular historical epoch. Sean O’Casey’s plays are fantastic and a must read for any historian. James Joyce’s ‘Dubliners’ is remarkable and probably one of the best books I’ve ever read.

MARCH 2014

E NGLISH ST. GERARD’S SENIOR SCHOOL

TRIP