St. Gerard's Senior School Literary Magazine 2017

Tá tír na nóg ar chúl an tí, Tír álainn trína chéile, Lucht cheithre chos ag Siúl na slí, Gan bróga orthu ná léine Gan Béarla, acu ná Gaeilge

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...W hy, the beans he had thrown out of the window into the garden had sprung up into a big beanstalk which went up and up and up until it reached the sky

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Literary M a g azin e Te am 2017

i n t r o d u ct i o n to t h e L i t e r a ry M a g a z i n e 2017 Mr. Eamonn Carr

‘Books are a uniquely portable magic’ - Stephen King.

If I had a euro for every time a parent told me at Parent Teacher Meetings that they are frustrated that their teenage son or daughter no longer reads I could possibly be writing this introduction on my own private Caribbean island! Like any English teacher I can share their frustration.

I can tell my students that reading is of benefit not just in my subject but in all subjects. I can tell them that my subject is an enabling subject, helping them to achieve those extra points, those elusive college courses. I can tell them that a 2013 study showed that people who read fiction performed better on tests measuring empathy, social perception and emotional intelligence. I can tell them that reading can give a historical and cultural perspective of what life was like through the centuries - if we stop reading classical literature a sense of our past.

Mr.we Eawill monlose n Carr

attention… The whirlwind of social media…

The persistent phone hopping with Snapchat messages… The colour and choice offered by Netflix… The speed and busyness of life in 2017.

However I would argue that precisely because of all these fast moving and competing ‘noises’ out there that reading is more important than ever. It is an opportunity for quiet. It is an opportunity to pause. It is an opportunity to slowly find out about other people’s lives and worlds. Or maybe even one’s own.

So at PTMs, we say to parents that is is vital to keep trying… Leaving that book about their favourite sports personality lying around…

Keeping an ear out for those writers that appeal most to teenagers at particular times: the next Tolkien, Rowling, Collins, Meyers, Green… If it’s the right book or author teenagers will read them, most especially if their mates are reading them or Hollywood makes them ‘cool’. Reading is a habit and a learned behaviour so a house with books is more likely to house readers.

I hope you enjoy reading the ‘portable magic’ produced here by our students. I hope it encourages other students to aspire to have their pieces published next year. My thanks to the Literary Magazine team: Anna Byrne, Natasha Bernon, Georgia On a practical'B level, them to our well ooksI can are atake uniquely port ble magic' - Ferguson, Joshua Dargan stocked and cosy school library to select aanovel.

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01

The Final Moment Jenn Swan First Year

We do our best to figure out what the problem is, but we are running out of time. We have approximately twenty-three seconds until we hit the ground. Mark has tears streaming down his face. He was the first one of us to get married, and his wife just recently announced that she was pregnant. I lean over to him and place my hand on his knee. “Don’t worry” I whisper, barely able to contain my own tears. “We will get you home to your baby.” He tries to smile but he is still crying heavily. Twelve seconds. “Guys” Annabella croaks, holding back tears. “It’s… it’s been a pleasure to know you all.”

Images flash in my head. My Mum, my Gran, and of course my little sister, Mollie-Jane. I remember when my Mum told me that she was pregnant with Mollie-Jane. I remember holding MollieJane’s hand for the first time, when she wasn’t even an hour old. I remember her first steps, and her first word “Moma.” I go back even further in time. I remember my first day at secondary school, my first disco, and of course the agonising wait as you anticipate your Leaving Certificate results. I remember playing with my dogs in the park on a warm Summer day. I remember being loved and loving others. I remember my Granny’s special Digestive biscuits that she always let me have when we visited her. I remember the warm glow of the sunset as it sinks below the hills outside my house.

The tears begin to flow. I’m not ready to die. I have to see my family again. I have to feel the sun on my face, at least once more. Two seconds. “I love you guys” I call out. “Love you too” Lelia croaks back. We join hands, all eight of us. ‘Ha’ I think. ‘If you wanna’ separate us, you’re gonna’ have to do a better job than that.’

Then the rocket makes contact with the ground and I feel Leila’s hand slipping out of mine,

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despite my actions to cling on. I feel my body being thrown dozens of meters into the air, and I feel the force of gravity pulling me back down to Earth. I land hard on my left shoulder, and I cry out in pain. I keep my eyes close, too scared of what I might see if I open them. What seems like hours pass, but it must only be a few minutes.

I hear alarmed voices calling in the distance, calling out to us, telling us that it will be okay, but I know it won’t be. I try to sit up, but a hand presses onto my right, unbroken shoulder, and gently pushes me back down. I feel a cool hand take my own, but it feels unfamiliar. I hear a gentle, but anxious voice telling me that it will be okay, but I know that they are lying. My left shoulder is definitely broken, and my head is throbbing unbearably.

I try to find my friends, but I can’t move my arms.

My whole body seems to have stopped working, my lungs just barely inflating, my heart just barely pumping. I try to call out, but I just manage to inhale lots of dust and rubble. I try to open my eyes, but the smoke and fires blaze bright and my eyes start watering.

“Hang on guys, it’s okay,” I hear a weak but determined voice call out. This one sounds familiar. “Annabella?” I croak but the calm voice tells me to be still for once, to stay alive. I feel my chest just barely moving, and the pain in my head is becoming unbearable. I take one last deep breath and force myself to open my eyes. I catch sight of the Sun, one final ray sinking behind the hills. My eyes try to close, but I won’t let them. I can’t hang on. My heart pumps one last time, my lungs take one last breath. My eye start to close, and I feel myself slipping away from the world.

“Goodbye Mollie-Jane, goodbye my friends, goodbye world,” I croak, and then my eyes shut fully, and I feel my body slipping away.

St. Gerard’s Senior School

Pat h e t i c F a ll a c y Jane Loughman Fifth Year

The heavens open And water trickles from the sky.

Little feet scurry across the wet grass, Stains of earth and water left on socks.

Inside, party poppers pop and The birthday cake is cut, But the boy’s smile is gone.

He gazes out the rain-speckled window.

Somewhere else, The air is still, dry, the sky clear of clouds.

Lines in waves float above the ground and The sun reflects off the church windows.

A man recites words of meaning To dark clothed, lifeless people staring at A box lowering into the ground.

A girl smiles up at the blue heavens above.

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03

T h e U n f o r g e t ta b l e D a y Phoebe Ferguson second Year

The sun peeped through the clouds and not a breeze could be felt. It was quite warm for the early morning. From the top of the building you could hear the horns of angry cab drivers, and the busy chatter of people on their way to work. It was so busy you could hear the screech of the car brakes every time some unfortunate person was late to work and ran across the road. You could smell the bitter, roasted coffee from the coffee stalls along the streets. You could see the steam escaping from the manholes, in the ground.

the floor, all killed from the impact. A couple of businessmen were running in all directions.

She knew it was her job to help them escape as she knew the building like the back of her hand.

They started off down the stairwell but a bit was missing. She had to think fast how to get past.

They got cloths from the tables and tied them together making a rope. The building started to crash down on top of her. The air filled with smoke and the stench of fuel would make you sick.

A woman called Chang was starting her shift, she was up on the roof getting the pails of water to clean the tablecloths with. It was all part of a new scheme the owners of ‘The Windows Of The World’ had thought of. Chang had a dark pallor, with glowing rosy cheeks. Her hair was neat and tidy, tied back into a styled bun. Her face was round and chubby with a snub nose. She was a very happy person, you could tell by her bright sparkling eyes. She took in the breathtaking view as she collected the pails of water. She sat down to have a look at all the tiny people below, going about their day.

Shortly after the first building was hit, the second one went down. Chang heard the bang and smash of the second plane but was completely unaware of the fact that it was a second plane. As she and a couple of others made it to the ninetieth floor, she found more people who were desperately trying to find an escape route. Chang felt like she had no power over anything, all she could do was try help people to safety. As they ran down the stairs at the side of the building she could see chunks of what was the shiny Twin Towers falling to pieces on the ground.

As she was bending down, to get the water she saw something from the corner of her eye. It was the wings of the shining, United Airlines plane.

She kept looking, her shining bright eyes filling with fear. The plane didn’t turn off towards J.F.K it just kept going. She froze in fear, waiting for the impact of the huge plane. Seconds later she heard the passenger plane crash into the building.

Chang ran down the stairwell as fast as she could.

The smoke from the fire was unbearable. In the distance you could hear the wail of ambulances speeding down the streets. As she made it to the restaurant she saw many bodies lying on

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As she let them down through each floor they met more people completely unaware of the seriousness of the situation. The fire was getting bigger and bigger, the flames were almost uncontrollable. As they made it down to the second floor a fireman came and helped them onto the street. Chang’s face was in shock, she had never seen anything like it before. The smell of smoke and fuel was horrible. This sirens from the hundreds of ambulances were unbearable.

However what was worse was the sound of crying and desperate wailing coming from all those who had lost ones they loved.

St. Gerard’s Senior School

S h e llf i s h Danny Millar Fifth Year

The eye can scantily see the limited life in their seasoned shells.

With a smell of a salty sea, they are schlepped upon the bed of melting ice.

They lay among it. With their tortured, torpid bodies torn open. Their organs shelved and sold as oils and ointments.

Their shells stole the sun and gave out a lush look.

Their bodies were like a pensive painting.

I stared at them. They viewed violation.

Their shells now sheltered from fishermen forays.

They have been dragooned to the docks.

From noxious nets to icebound graves, they wait for pearly plates and the destiny of tongues.

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05

D e a d l y F e u d Cl a i m s L at e s t V i c t i m s Lewis Kelly third Year

Verona, Verifier, April 1596 Today two of the youngest members of the noble houses of Capulet and Montague became the tragic victims of the vicious feud between two of our most prominent families.

Juliet Capulet, daughter of the House of Capulet, and Romeo Montague, son of the House of Mountague, were found dead in the family crypt of the Capulets in the early hours of the morning. It appears they died by their own hands. Yet again the citizens of our lovely city of Verona are in uproar over the latest tragedy that occurred in our midst and the cries for this deadly conflict to finally be brought to an end have become deafening.

By now, every citizen must be aware of the ongoing blood feud between our town’s two most noble clans: the charismatic Capulets and the mighty Montagues. In the past this newspaper has often reported on the vicious fights between these two opposing families and today it is our sad duty to report the latest tragic event in this epic battles of family pride.

Romeo Montague and Juliet Capulet recently met at the Capulet’s famous masque ball which they hold every year in the magnificent mansion of the Capulets. According to our sources the two young people fell in love at first sight and consummated their love soon after the ball. Friar Laurence, a friend and spiritual advisor to both young people, helped them to get married in secret. He claims that he had both families’ best interest at heart . By utilising the children of Capulet and Montague, he had hoped to end the vicious and ongoing feud between them, thinking that love would conquer all. Sadly, the good friar started a devious scheme which ended in the worst tragedy both families have ever had to endure. Not only did it end in the deaths of Romeo and Juliet but also claimed the lives of Tybalt, cousin to young Juliet, and Mercutio and Paris, kinsmen to our own Prince Escalus.

Benvolio, nephew of Montague, told us that Tybalt took exception to a group of young Montagues gate crashing the Capulet’s’ masked ball. He apparently started a fight with Mercutio, who was known to be loyal to the House of Montague. We are being told that Romeo himself intervened in order to make peace between the two opponents. Romeo who had just secretly married Juliet was determined to end the feud.

However, in the ensuing sword-fight Tybalt killed Mercutio which so enraged Romeo that he killed Tybalt in return.

Our readers will probably remember that Prince Escalus had ordered that the next person to start a fight would be punished by death. However, our Prince showed himself to be merciful and he just banished Romeo although the Prince’s own kinsman was slain. Romeo and Juliet managed to spend their wedding night together but Romeo left Verona for Mantua the next morning.

Tragically, Lord Capulet, who, of course, was unaware of all this, decided that his daughter should marry Count Paris, a noble kinsman to Prince Escalus. Juliet then sought help from Friar Laurence since she obviously could not marry Paris having already been wed to Romeo in secret.

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This is the point where the story takes on even more tragic turn. In order to help the two “starcrossed” lovers, Friar Laurence gave Juliet a herbal concoction that when swallowed made her appear dead for forty two hours. The plan was that Romeo would find his Juliet in Capulet’s tomb where they could be reunited again after having avoided the wedding to Count Paris because of Juliet’s supposed death.

Disastrously, the message about the idealistic friars’ and Juliet’s plot never reached Romeo in Mantua. He only heard about Juliet’s sudden death and rushed to her grave immediately. Once there Romeo encountered a mourning Count Paris and in his unendurable grief Romeo killed Paris in yet another fight. Romeo then took some poison that he had bought from an unusual apothecary and died next to the love of his life. Just then it is believed that Juliet woke up, found her beloved dead and committed suicide with Romeo’s own dagger.

This newspaper believes that this is the most tragic and shocking story we have had to report. Our city has lost too many bright young citizens due to a family feud the origins of which nobody can even remember.

The pressure is now on the Capulets and the Montagues to end this madness!

“For never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and Romeo.”

Respect Adam O’Reilly Fifth Year

Respect can be lost in an ego, It can be forgotten in a rush, Respect is something you give before you get.

But to get it your mindset Must be set.

Respect is free, But it comes at a price, How much will it cost you To learn to be nice?

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07

The Defining Struggle of Our Age Gavin Dowd sixth Year

“A spectre is haunting Europe”. The ominous opening line of “The Communist Manifesto”, written by socialist Karl Marx in 1848 - according to Marx that spectre was inequality. In 2017, that same spectre haunts not only Europe, but the entire world. As the chasm widens between rich and poor, our world is becoming divided between the “haves” and the “have-nots”. The scale of the world’s wealth disparity is having cataclysmic effects on our lives: tainting the political spectrum and shaking the structure of societies around the globe. This is exacerbated by the greedy motives of the rich, who prioritise the pursuit of self-interest over charity, In my eyes, income inequality is one of the defining struggles of our age.

Citigroup is one the largest financial institutions in the world. In a leaked memo, investors in 2006 warned that the world was becoming a plutonomy: a society where the majority of the wealth is controlled by an ever-shrinking majority. As if this statement seemed blase enough, it was accompanied a startling statistic: that the wealthiest 1% in the world control 95% of the world’s wealth. This sounds like the basics for a dystopian novel, alas, this the dystopian reality. While the executives of this bank hold billions in wealth, living lifestyles where money literally is no object, the bank’s customers who cannot afford mortgage repayments are being callously evicted from their homes and left to piece their lives back together. The dichotomy between these two lifestyles is not only stark but distressing. Does it not seem abhorrent that we condone a system that not only condones, but incentivises the rich to profit from this misfortune of the poor? This is leading to greater income inequality around the globe.

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The inequality epidemic sweeping our world is compounded and exacerbated by the apathy of the rich. Unfortunately, apathy is ubiquitous in the First World, where people focus on personal gain rather than for the greater good of society. It suffices to give as an examplemobile phones,which are gadgets ubiquitous in today’s world. They are known for their high retail price, but according to statistic published by ‘The Economist’ recently, a meagre 1.6% of the final price of most mobile phones is paid to the workers and factory owners in China who work tirelessly in unsafe conditions to produce these goods. Amidst this bleak reality, sales of mobiles in the developed world are skyrocketing as people fork over hundreds of euros to sate their want at the expense of the poor in China.

Without a doubt, income inequality is one of the defining struggles of our age.

It is not only consumers in the developed world that are aggravating this epidemic, but also businesses. I will reference an article in ‘The Economist’ which quoted Facebook founder Mark Zuckerberg. Valiantly, he pledged to give away 99% of his personal wealth. However the company that he controls only paid a tax rate of 6% over the last five years. It seems that businesses do not care about helping the world around them, unless it is of a financial benefit to them. A well known leading fashion retailer audaciously lauds their own commitment to the workers who produce their garments in the Third World. Over a year ago, a devastating fire broke out in one of the company’s on Pakistan where it emerged that workers were paid such a low wage that many were impoverished and had to work at least 12 hours per day with a modest 10 minute break. This is not only unjust, it is fundamentally immoral. At the moment large businesses that

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could be part of the solution to income inequality instead choose, by their own volition, to be part of the problem.

Income inequality is not a problem that is solely reserved for the Third World. It does not simply constitute the disparity of wealth between the prosperous developed world and impoverished developing world. Income inequality exists in our country, within our communities and on our streets. I attend a fee-paying school with costs a substantial €6,500 per year to attend. The woodclad fortress with its copious sports facilities and ultra-modern facade overlooks a disadvantaged, wealth deprived local authority housing estate.

Families in my school can afford to purchase a car for their son or daughter when he or she is able to drive. Parents from this estate can often not afford to buy a car for themselves. Families in my school hope that their children go to university and enter a permanent, pensionable profession. Teenagers from this estate often crave the notion of swiftly ending their education after their Junior Certificate.

The gulf between these two worlds creates not only an economic dichotomy but a stark social divide.

Is there any hope for the future, you may ask? Up to this point I have lamented one of the defining struggles of our age without offering any solutions.

We are currently seeing progress being made in India, where the polarity between the rich and poor is distinct. The government is in the process of introducing a basic minimum wage income to all citizens promoting the eradication of poverty. This is a progressive move in the fight against income inequality and will have tangible effects in the economy. On the other end of the scale, France, among other European countries have introduced a wealth tax where the super-rich pay 1.5% tax of assets they own over €800,000. To the layman this may seem inconsequent, but it is a substantial step forward in reducing the division between rich and poor.

salary or net worth. Trump’s campaign offered the “forgotten Americans” - generally the poor and unskilled to speak out against a regime that had delivered nothing to them except financial misery. They watched the rich prosper, while they themselves, the poor - suffered. I hope that Trump’s administration will at least try to find a balance of wealth in what has become the ‘Divided’ States of America.

What would Karl Marx think if he was alive today?

The ‘spectre’ that he warned of in 1848 still reigns large in the world in 2017. The chasm between the rich and poor once existed solely on an economic basis, but now exists on a political and social basis too. Income inequality is on the defining struggles go our age. With the tools to overcome it, we have consistently failed. With the battle in our owns hands, we recurrently succumb to our own greed, living by the mantra devised by American President Jimmy Carter: “human identity is defined not by what one does, but by what one owns.’

Seldom, if ever, do we hear the words “Trump” and “hope” mentioned in the same sentence. Although the victory of America’s forty-fifth president illustrates that democracy disregards wealth. Every citizen is entitled to one vote, regardless of their

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B r e x i t - A R e fl e c t i o n Eoin Blunnie sixth Year

“I’m glad they’ve finally seen sense”, grumbled the old man. He was sitting down in his favourite recliner just opposite the stove. His hand shook, and he bounced his rusty walking stick on the hardwood floor.

He did it in such a way that there was always a constant, faint thudding noise.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Like a lazy heartbeat.

On the ancient TV on the other side of the room, grey speckles filled the screen.

His grandson, standing at the worktop, glanced over his shoulder at the old man. “Should I-” he began, only to be interrupted.

“I tell you, it’s a damn shame it didn’t happen twenty years ago!” Grandad gestured wildly at the grey blizzard coming from the broken TV. “Pathetic country, ran by big mo-” “One sugar cube or two, grand-da?” asked the grandson, setting the mug down on the worktop decisively.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Until - silence. Except for the old grandfather clock, which continued ticking away at its own discordant beat. “I don’t know… two?” grandpa said, his angry eyes darting from left to right. The grandson sighed.

“You always take the one, grandpa.” The old man shook his head. “Well, today I’m celebrating. Maybe we’ll finally be able to get all those damn illegals out of our country! Now be a good boy and find me a cheap electrician for this TV from the Yellow Pages”. His grandson just sighed, staring despondently into the cup of black coffee.

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St. Gerard’s Senior School

C h e c k m at e b y M a l o r i e Bl a c k m a n

a review Amelia Dolan First Year

Checkmate, written by Malorie Blackman is a novel about a world where the roles of humans are reversed.

In Checkmate, black people are known as Crosses, and are the dominant race. The white people are called Noughts, and are the inferior race. There is a raging conflict between the two, with some going to extreme ways to achieve equality, one of which, ‘The L.M’, are very much like many terrorist groups nowadays. Single, Cross mother Persephone (Sephy) has a grave secret from Callie, involving her father and his family. Sephy can’t seem to tell her because she’s afraid she’ll create a rift through their already rocky relationship. Meanwhile Meggie, Callie’s grandmother has a relative who wishes to make Sephy’s life a living hell. This mysterious character tries to enter Callie’s life with drastic effects. His bubbling anger won’t stop at any, and I mean any means.

Many hidden secrets lead everyone in the families down a spiral of lies, towards the cold, hard truth and even towards learning to love. Every one of them is reminded of their haunting pasts which demand to be remembered. This book is about the darker side of human hearts and bonds between two families, pulled together by chance, too strong to be broken. It is a gripping novel that hosts both heartbreaking tragedies and joyful new beginnings.

I really enjoyed this book. It was like nothing I’ve ever read before. The way Blackman built up the tension, piece by piece was so brilliant that I was sitting on the edge of my chair the entire time I read it. Do you know the way if you ever go to the pantomime, you’re always shouting at the actors, ‘He’s right behind you?’ Well I found myself doing just this, rooting for the characters, willing for them to be okay. And that’s not even how strongly I felt about this book. It was utterly stunning. Fabulous. JawDropping. Say a word and it’s just that. I’ve read a few of Blackman’s other books, and it’s always hard to pick favourites from her already immaculate pieces but this was definitely it. I enjoyed the ending to this book very much also, it’s so disappointing when an amazing book ends poorly, but absolutely nothing disappointed me here.

There are only a few small things I disliked, but overall they didn’t affect my rating. One thing I disliked was the exaggerated villainy in Jude. I didn’t really follow his character as one minute he is dead serious with almost no emotions and the next he is almost childlike and brutish. He just has this way about him that prevents me from taking him seriously. I’m not totally sure what it is, but there’s definitely something.

Another character I didn’t really like was Kamal Hadley. I didn’t really see the need for him in the story.

There were a few points in the story where he definitely livened up the plot but I would have liked if some things were different. It would’ve been lovely if he accepted Callie and not turned her away. Oh well, a story’s never going to be exactly how you want it to be, but this was pretty close.

It was very hard to find fault in this story as it was a very, very good read. I cannot praise Blackman enough for her works: her descriptions of all the characters and their emotions is fabulous. The relationships between the characters are all so carefully crafted. I loved this book and I’m going to give it a solid 9.3 out of 10. I would totally recommend this story to both adults and children as it’s not just a children’s read but also for adults!

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T h i s H o u s e W o u l d All o w For A Leg al Market In Human Organs

Joshua Dargan Hayes fifth Year

Ladies and Gentlemen, a new person is added to a transplant list every 10 minutes, 18 people die everyday waiting for an organ, The World Health Organization estimates that only 10 per cent of global needs for organ transplantation are being met.

$2,000 to $4,000. On the black market, however, the price is regularly above $160,000! To put this in perspective the Singapore Ministry of Health quotes the price for dialysis for a single patient for a single month as $25,000. This means Iran is putting healthy kidneys into at the very least seven people every month for the same price as keeping one unhealthy person on a machine for the rest of their life.

Is this acceptable to the Opposition, because it certainly isn’t to us.

Seriously opposition does this sound morally or economically just to you?

Good evening, my name is Joshua Dargan Hayes.

Tonight I, as part of the proposition, am here to convince you why, legal market in human organs is best for all parties.

Now the opposition has mentioned countless times and will presumably continue to argue that any of these market based system will be exploitative of the poor since they’re the ones who’ll be most tempted to take the risks in order to get the rewards. There is, however, a severe blind spot, excuse the pun, to that thinking.

“We can’t help everyone, but everyone can help someone” according to Ronald Reagan.

Allow me to bring you two points tonight: 1. The Simple Economics of the Motion 2. Growing Organs Vs Using Living Donors Firstly tonight, I would like to teach the opposition, ladies and gentlemen, a rather basic concept, dollar, dollar bills!

Unfortunately President Trump turned down the guest speaking role so I’ll have to do!

Ladies and Gentlemen, does Aldi rely on farmers donating food so we can eat? Do BMW rely on the donations of auto parts to build their cars?

Or do Landlords gift their apartments to people because they need them? Why on earth should we expect anything different with organs? As long as this flawed system relies upon selflessness, there will always be a shortage of organs, period.

There is in fact much evidence that financial incentives works. Iran uses a hybrid system of free market and government control. There, vendors sell their organs to the government, which acts as an intermediary. It pays them and gives them free health insurance for one year.

Donor recipients are required to work to pay for the cost of their organs. Their system has literally shrunk the Iranian waiting list to zero according to BBC. In Iran the price of a kidney ranges from

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Who works in coal mines? Who enlists in the military? Or who are those orange men in ‘Deadliest Catch’? It’s the working poor.

Coal miners, the army and fishermen are unquestionably high risk occupations. But if we’re so worried about exploiting the poor, why do we allow them to do these dangerous jobs?

Because we know it’s their right to assume the risk of a dangerous job if they deem the reward worthwhile. By parity of reasoning, if the poor are allowed to choose these high risk jobs, then doesn’t it logically follow that they should be able to decide whether to take the risk of selling their own organs?

The solution to the organ donor shortage problem poses a fundamental moral question: Who has sovereignty and of what? If a person owns their own body, then rich or poor, shouldn’t they have the right sell their organs if they so choose?

Sally Satel, a psychiatrist and resident scholar at the American Enterprise Institute who received

St. Gerard’s Senior School

a kidney from a friend in 2006, says: “Many people need more of an incentive to give. And that’s why we need to be able to compensate people who are willing to give a kidney to a stranger, to save a life.”

Secondly tonight, let’s take a step back from the argument over living donors and focus on an exponentially growing category, that of artificial organs. With today’s system, the biggest risk is that bodies will reject a new organ and launch a massive immune reaction against these foreign cells. To combat the problems of organ shortage and decrease the chance that a patient’s body will reject it, researchers from Harvard Medical School have been working to create synthetic organs from patients’ own cells. Recently the Washington Post reported they had successfully used adult skin cells to regenerate a smaller yet functional human heart.

Jan Cornel from Heriot-Watt University once explained the process standing in front of his 3D Bio Printer. “The same basic technology your sister used to print her own custom bobble-head doll could one day fabricate her a new liver or heart,” he states.

Here’s how it works: Doctors obtain cells from the patient which are grown in a lab and mixed with other nutrients to keep them alive. They are then physically printed into the appropriate shape for the patient, along with a biomaterial to provide structure.

“When the ‘print’ button is pushed, the printer builds the structure layer by layer and embeds cells into each layer,” Dr. Anthony Atala, director of the Wake Forest Institute for Regenerative Medicine, told the Huffington Post. “When cells are provided the right mixture of nutrients and growth factors — and placed in the right environment — they know what to do and perform their functions.”

At present, flat structures like skin, tubular structures like veins and hollow structures like the bladder have all successfully been grown in the lab. His team has successfully engineered bladders, cartilage, skin and urine tubes that have all been safely implanted in patients.”

In August, scientists at Ohio State University revealed they’d converted human skin cells into stem cells, then used them to grow the first nearcomplete human brain in a lab, containing a spinal cord, cortex, midbrain, brain stem, multiple cell types, circuitry and even a retina.

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Other organs successfully grown from stem cells in a petri dish include a primitive liver, heart tissue, noses, ears, windpipes and blood vessels.

So how far away can we possibly be from printing and transplanting legitimate organs? Not long according to multiple professionals.

As Joseph Vacanti, a surgeon-scientist at Massachusetts General puts it, “The only way we are going to meet the ever growing need is to manufacture living organs.”

Ladies and gentlemen tonight we, the proposition, are not talking about a classic commercial free-forall, an eBay system or even DoneDeal at a stretch!

We’re talking about a third-party payer.

For example, if today you decided to give a kidney you’d be called a good samaritan.

The only difference we’re suggesting is that your retirement account be wired with $10,000.

The fact is that even though transplantation using paid living donors is unlawful, it occurs. Because of this, it would obviously be better to legalize the practice so that it could be regulated properly for both the donor’s and recipient’s safety.

Dr. David Dunn, a transplantation expert at the State University of New York, told The New York Times. “It’s a cruel situation currently, that someone who needs a heart transplant has to pin their chance for a healthy life on the untimely death of another person.”

Ladies and Gentlemen, since the start of our debate tonight four people have been added to the organ waiting list in the United States alone.

The opposition’s message to these four people is to have patience and brush up on your religion because luck is your only hope at this stage.

I, and the proposition, have come tonight with a radical theory.

Let those who wish to give, give!

It’s not my right, the proposition or the opposition’s to tell two individuals they cannot partake in a mutual exchange of resources. To dare say it is, as supreme leader Trump would put it, is “sad, so sad!”

Thank you and I urge you to propose!

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My Early Memories

Nicholaas (5thl Year) M y EWalle ar y Memories

My Mom thought it was weird but agreed.

My Dad works for a company called Psychologists say that the strength of a “Schlumberger Oilfield Services”, which memory is often increased according to the Nicholaas Walle requires him to move around a lot. That’s emotions experienced at the time. Well, as f i f t h Y e a r how he met my Mom; my Dad was soon as that woman picked me up and held working as a petroleum engineer in Abu me in the air, I screamed so loudly in Dhabi when my Mom was working there protest at my abduction that almost My Dad works for a company called “Schlumberger Oilfield Services”, which requires to move aroundby as a teacher. Eventually, they married and everyone around was him likely disturbed awhen lot. That’s hebecame met my Mom; my Dad wasme, working as a my petroleum Abu Dhabi when my my how Mom pregnant with wails engineer of terror.in The woman, surprised Mom was working there as a teacher. Eventually, they married and when my Mom became pregnant with she wanted to return to Ireland for my and embarrassed, quickly gave me back to me, she wanted to return to Ireland for my birth, and so my first big move happened before I was even birth,and and so my first biga move my Mom, apologising and hurrying born, continued for over decade.happened Because of this, my memories of my childhood remain mostly off before Iaround was even born,like andpieces continued forpersonal jigsaw. with However, her husband. seenthem the again, picture. It scattered the world, of a giant, now I I’ve summon trying piece them all together on paper, over to a decade.

Because of this, my starting from the is hilarious. beginning. memories of my childhood remain mostly scattered around the world, like pieces of a My first memory of childhood is a face, not my mother’s giant, jigsaw.

I entirely face, butpersonal an ominous lookingHowever, face veiled now almost them again, trying piece them insummon black, eyes hidden behind dark to sunglasses.

My Mom informs me thatonthepaper, incident causingfrom this memory all together starting the occurred when I was less than one year old.

The story beginning. goes as follows: one day in Dubai, my mom was sitting on a park bench with me, probably feeding me my bottle first memory childhood is a face, orMy something, when aof young Emirati couple, seeing this, not my mother’s butblonde an ominous approached her. I wasface, entirely at the time, and I am informed wereentirely a noveltyinin Dubai. The lookingthat faceblonde veiledbabies almost husband asked my Mom politely if hissunglasses. wife could hold black, eyes hidden behind dark her baby (me) as she was pregnant and very excited about My Mom informs me that the incident having a baby.

instantly dropping it in shock because fo some reason, it was really cold. I remember the fun I had pushing the snow off of our driveway with my Dad (who h given me a tiny snow shovel to help and make me feel important).

causing this memory occurred when I was lessMom thanthought one year old.

Thebutstory goes as My it was weird agreed.

Psychologists say that theone strength memorymy is often follows: day of inaDubai, momincreased was according to athe emotions at the time. Well, sitting on park benchexperienced with me, probably as soon as that woman picked me up and held me in the feeding me my bottle or something, when air, I screamed so loudly in protest at my abduction that a young Emirati couple, seeing this, almost everyone around was likely disturbed by my wails her. I was entirely blonde at quickly ofapproached terror. The woman, surprised and embarrassed, My next move was to Muscat in Oman and the me time, and I am informed that and blonde gave back to my Mom, apologising hurrying off then on to America, and specifically Utah. with her husband.

I’ve seenin theDubai. picture.The It is hilarious. babies were a novelty My strongest memory of Utah was the first husband asked my Mom politely if his My next move was to Muscat in Oman and then on to America, and specifically snow. I remember the time I experienced wife could hold her baby (me) as she was Utah. My strongest memory of Utah was the first time I experienced snow. I excitement of seeing white fluffy pregnantthe andexcitement very excited about having remember of seeing white fluffy amountains of snow all around mountains of snow all around me. I baby. me.

I remember the first time I picked up a huge lump of snow with a gleeful remember grin, before instantly dropping it in shock because for some reason, it wasthe first time I picked up a huge really cold. I remember the fun I had pushing the snow off oflump our driveway of snow with a gleeful grin, before with my Dad (who had given me a tiny snow shovel to help and make me feel important).

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After living in Utah for some years, we moved to Louisiana.

As we moved to St. Gerard’s Senior School Louisiana, my memory must have developed a good bit, because my

After living in Utah for some years, we moved to Louisiana. As we moved to Louisiana, my memory must have developed a good bit, because my memories are stronger here. This was where I started preschool and continued into kindergarten and the beginning of first grade. I remember strolling into the playground one day, thinking: “four year-olds are the best”. I remember having “recess” each day. There was a cafe aptly called “Caffe! Caffe!”, where I used to enjoy going, if only for the cookies. I remember this particular cookie in great detail, and recall the taste of it as I write this now. It was in the shape of a turtle because it had this lovely circular oaty chewy cookie as the body, holding it all together, and then it also had Pecans (to this day, my favourite nut) sticking out of the sides like arms and legs. Finally, on top of the cookie, the shell was a huge, swirly dollop of what must have been some sort of fudge or icing (at the time, I was too young, hungry and excited to ask, and just ate it).

We had a speedboat which we kept in our garage, and I remember the time my Dad let me drive it. I remember feeling so in control being behind the wheel, although it was apparently my Dad who prevented us from crashing into the swampside.

Of course, I distinctly remember free samples of food I ate, in amazing detail and can even recall the taste, although I still don’t know what I was actually eating. Did I care? It was a free sample! (I now know that it was praline).

At naptime in Kindergarten, most of the other kids fell straight to sleep, but I stayed awake listening to the song my teacher would put on. For years afterwards, I didn’t know the name of the song or who sang it, but such was the strength of that memory that years later, I found the song: “Sunrise” by Norah Jones.

Since then, that has been one of my favourite songs, and I now own three of her albums, two on CD and one on vinyl. I also remember visiting a gator farm, and I remember the tape around a gator’s mouth as we were allowed to touch, or even hold him. I remember the marshmallows we threw into the water to feed them (although I imagine I ate many of them). I remember Mardi Gras, the coloured beads we wore around our necks: purple, green and gold, “king cakes” containing rings and babies, the extravagant parade. I remember the globe in the classroom when I was in first grade and my friends gathering around it as I pointed out where I was going next: Libya.

Living in Libya was very different from other countries I had lived in. My two best friends were Austin and Clancy, who were Australian. I remember distinctly one memory from there especially well, the time when I first found out about the middle finger. It was in the middle of a class and the teacher must have invited us to ask a question or to answer one, because I remember the enthusiasm with which I put up my hand, but before I could speak, some girl decided to start an episode of chaos by exclaiming loudly and proudly “Nicolaas has his middle finger up!”. The innocent young child that I was, my first reaction was confusion.

What was the problem with my middle finger? Why was it worse than all of my other ones? Hadn’t she seen a finger before? People started murmuring and then the teacher had to explain calmly and gently to me that what I was doing was not the correct thing to do.

Brunei (part of Borneo) where we went next, holds a lot of fond memories for both me and my Dad (he was born there, although he is Dutch). I think he was glad to be sharing his childhood memories with us.

I remember many things about Brunei, including the sweltering heat (it was on the equator). I have clear memories of getting out of the airport in Brunei and having to run to the air-conditioned car in order to escape the sudden heat to which we had not yet adjusted. My best friend here was Harrison Jesset, who was Australian. I remember the school that I went to there, Panaga School. It was octagonal in shape, with the playground sitting right inside the octagon. The “corridors” were not technically corridors as they were outdoors, sheltered by a roof, and with no inside wall, so that on one side, there were the classes, and the other side, the playground. My second cousin, Diederick, also went to the same school, and I remember clearly one day when I was passing by him in the playground, he whispered in my ear the words “I hate

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you”. I haven’t seen him in person in many years, however, Of the few memories I remember clearly of him, it is unfortunate that they had to be like that, and I hope that he has matured and will achieve success in life.

Paris was our last stop. Perhaps my most vivid memory from Paris was created when my family and I were visiting a park and I saw a pair of turkeys casually walking around. I became excited as I had not seen a live turkey before. I went up to the turkeys full of curiosity, when one turkey jumped up and suddenly unleashed a kick of fury on my back. Crying and in pain, I returned to my Mom for comfort. Later that day, I remember taking off my shirt to see the damage in the mirror, discovering a large red mark on my back in the shape of a turkey’s foot. I didn’t see that turkey again until Christmas. I still remember the shock and the pain that took me by surprise that day, although thankfully, when I look back on that memory, it always brings a laugh.

Finally, after living in Paris for six months, we made a long-awaited return to Ireland so that me and my brother could live a more settled life. My Dad is now a global marketing director and continues to work in different countries during the week, returning each weekend to see us, but my brother and I stay with my Mom. The thing about all of this travelling is that although we didn’t stay very long in any one country/ region, we always had someplace to call home. My Nana and Danda live in Glasnevin and my Oma and Opa lived beside the border between Holland and Germany, in Emlichheim. These places have always remained “home” for my family. My memories of both of them are comforting and warm. They became sanctuaries for me, places where I was always more than welcome. Some of my strongest memories from these visits include my Nana’s potato and leek soup, which I would enjoy ravenously (and still do) before wiping the inside of the bowl with chunks of bread. I also remember Millie, my grandparents’ dog and the closest thing I knew to having my own dog. Millie was among my closest friends. I knew her from the time my grandparents and I got her. Her age matched mine in human years and every time I came to visit, she would always bark excitedly and run from the back garden, through the hall to scratch at the gate. I have many fond memories of her. I also remember when I learned that she had been put down. I had been unaware of her deteriorating condition until one evening, in conversation between me and my parents, it was brought up quite suddenly. I was certainly not expecting it, but my Nana assured me that she had not been well and that it was the right thing to do.

We used to visit Holland each year, and I remember it well. My Oma and Opa’s house, to me, was always a warm, welcoming and familiar place. Some distinct memories of this house and these visits include the glass bowl on the living room table, filled with Mars and Milky Way bars, which my parents told me not to eat because they were too old. I remember clearly my Oma’s warm and jovial laughter, or the incredibly deep voice of my Opa as he would tell one of his stories before finishing it with the word “unbelievable!”

I remember all the gifts he would get for my brother and I, which began as remote controlled cars, which we would play with on the floor, before moving onto watches (which, for some reason he believed that I collected) and finally into a three volume set of books entitled: “The Holocaust”. Admittedly, that one was a bit…unexpected, but I always appreciated his intentions and to this day I still wear the black, glow-inthe-dark watch he gave me one year, and it always reminds me of him and connects me to his memory.

Similarly, with all of the little souvenirs which I have collected over the years, I have a way to bring my past into the future. Scattered around in my room, and yet together there, I feel connected to the early childhood memories which have played such an important part in shaping how I am today, but childhood is not the end. I will continue to learn and grow and make new memories, and hopefully some of the best have yet to come.

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St. Gerard’s Senior School

London and S t r at f o r d - Up o n - Av o n T r i p Jane Loughman First Year

Fifty fifth years and five teachers embarked on an adventure bound for England to explore London, Stratford-Upon-Avon, and Warwick Castle. Throughout our stay, we enjoyed a myriad of cultural, historical and fun activities; from roaming the beautiful Warwick Castle grounds, to seeing ‘Jersey Boys’ in the West End, from getting spooked on a Ghost Bus Tour to shopping on Oxford Street and in Camden Market. I can say, without a shadow of a doubt, it was by far the highlight of the school year for me. My favourite parts of the tour were centred around the most wonderful writer of all time, William Shakespeare; visiting the Globe Theatre and Stratford-Upon-Avon had a wonderful impact on me as an English student and literature lover.

On our second day in London, we were given a tour of Shakespeare’s Globe, learning the ins and outs of acting life in the Globe from actors in the Royal Shakespeare Company. I found the theatre’s decorative backdrop beautiful. It was magical, sitting in the most famous theatre in the world. My group’s tour guide explained what it was like to attend a show in the theatre in Shakespeare’s time. I could imagine the crowds of ‘groundlings’ gathering in the yard, paying a penny to watch ‘King Lear’, a play they never knew would be so celebrated in centuries to come.

After taking photos to try and capture this amazing moment, we were quickly brought back inside the centre for a ‘King Lear’ workshop. As we are all studying the terrific tragedy for our Leaving Cert, this active acting workshop was very beneficial, but also entertaining. We gained valuable insight into how one could act and stage the significant ‘Love Test’ scene. I wished the workshop was longer!

On our 3rd night, we went to see ‘Snow in Midsummer’ at the Swan Theatre in Stratford-Upon-Avon. We were surprised at the start by techno dancing, while a very dramatic storyline unfolded, emphasised by impressive, sometimes scary special effects. We came out of the theatre quite astounded by the plot-twists.

I thought the acting was superb. Our final night of the trip was certainly not a disappointment, especially when a few of the boys following the play got to meet the star Katie Leung, who was also in the Harry Potter series.

We spent our final hours on the last day touring Stratford-Upon-Avon, visiting many significant places like Shakespeare’s birthplace, his daughter’s home Hall’s Croft, and Trinity Church, where Shakespeare is buried. For me, learning more about the greatest playwright and poet (ever!) in his own birthplace feels like something I should tick off a bucket list. I was enthralled to hear an actor recite Edmund’s monologue from ‘King Lear’, right in the building where Shakespeare grew up. “Thou, nature, art my goddess; to thy law My services are bound.” I have to say, my appreciation for Shakespeare and his literary work grew immensely.

On behalf of the fifth year students that came on this incredible trip, I would like to sincerely thank all our teachers who went and making the experience so amazing. If you ever have the opportunity to go and see Shakespeare’s Globe and Stratford-Upon-Avon, take it.

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St. Gerard’s Senior School

Literary Magazine 2016

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Of M i c e a n d M e n b y J o h n S t e i n b e c k

a n a n a ly s i s

(spoilers ahead!)

Jemima Ramsay Second Year

In my mind, there was little George could do to save Lennie. If he didn’t kill Lennie and instead tried to reason with Curley, he might have been killed too, if it was that he had anything to do with Curley’s wife’s murder.

I feel that it was a mercy killing. In a way, it was the ultimate act of friendship. To take away your friend’s life as they are happy and dreaming of a better life, rather than to let them be tied up and locked away before being hanged in front of a jeering crowd.

Still, I’m worried about George. He was so close to getting his own place with a little house and a few acres, so they could “live off the fat o’ the lan” Though, now that Lennie is gone, I’m afraid that he’ll give up on his dream.

It wasn’t just his dream though, it was George and Lennie’s, and even Candy’s for a while. I hope George gets his fifty dollars at the end of the month and stays away from the town instead of going to the cat houses. I hope that George and Candy bring all their money with them and buy their land. I hope they get the cows and the sheep and even get the rabbits. If not for them, then for Lennie.

I definitely enjoyed reading this book, It had two lovely main characters as well as a few we came to hate.

Even though it is only 106 pages long, it was jam-packed full of friendship, anger, sadness and even raw emotion. It helped us to understand that friendship means sacrificing a part of yourself for another, just as George did for Lennie.

Lennie looked up to George and did whatever he said because he thought that he needed George to survive. I think that works both ways in the unusual relationship they held. If George didn’t have Lennie, he would have blown all his money in a cat-house or spent it all on alcohol. Since he has Lennie, though he feels as though he has to take care of him as a parent takes care of their child. He gets a stake together so he can get Lennie off the ranches and get him his beloved rabbits.

In that unusual but genuine friendship they needed each other to survive. Without one another, they are lonely and weak like so many people during The Great Depression.

Overall, I felt that this was a thought provoking book with a lot depth. I definitely feel as though this should be a staple book for second year.

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St. Gerard’s Senior School

Considering T h e Bl u e b i r d Danny Millar Fifth Year

Genius sialia, a modest master of music and song, he is robed in royal blue. Air is ample.

He needs to rest. Maybe he will sing a song (or two) in a peaceful, prideful pitch.

Prideheart. His blue wings start to spread again. He is off.

Watching for worms His baby, blueberry head barely moves as he hunts. I cannot confess what kind of pretty power is at work. He dives down, and dines.

What is a bluebird’s furor? I do not notice!

Such a sweet, suave soul. His soothing songs impugn the hunter inside. His recherchĂŠ mien moves me. His ebon eyes stare at me in awe and affection. A playful pet. Snacker of seeds.

He hovers high once more, to manoeuvre me home.

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som that we had already don e toget a class, and some of ou r ideas changes in theplots we re very A Visit to Fightin g W o r interesting d s , and unexpe cted! One things that Gl e n c r e e made the w orkshop a good place Jake Wootton to improve o S e c o n d Y e a rur Englis how much fun we had

there at th same tim Fir st e aA . ndn Seo ct oh nd Fig ting eYreagrsreat rea w o r d s cr This year 2B visited Roddy Doyle’s Fighting With e ative wr son our writhin iting wog rkh she oprse

in w Words workshop as a school trip in English. glea ns creim e p r o v e d because of wa how beautif This was a great experience for us and we all

ul, scenic a inspirationa thoroughly enjoyed it. There we learned more about l the landsca how to go about creative writing, and afterwards we pe arou nd w as. put our imaginations into practice and wrote our own individual stories. All of our stories were based

The worksh on some work that we had already done together op was bas as a class, and some of our ideas and changes in the ed in the Wicklow co plots were very interesting and unexpected! One untryside. T of the things that made the workshop a really good he room we place to improve our English was how much fun we had there at the same time. Another great reason why our writing here was improved was because of how beautiful, scenic and inspirational the landscape around us was.

The workshop was based in the Wicklow countryside.

The room we went into looked out on wide and long fields, and being a bright, sunny day this was the perfect atmosphere for putting our creativity into use. The volunteers there were also very helpful and friendly and were there to help give us ideas or explain things, and listened to us reading our stories to them.

Seein

the S Kilcullen Dr

ama Group Sarah Kenny

(5th Year) F FIRST AN IGAH s pT artIoN f thG e c oW mpaO ratiR ve D aspS ect C Leaving Cert of oR

ur EATIV ificate Engli E sh c o u rse, our class and the majority of th When e sixth year English class

es are studyin huge b g the play "T Plough and th h e e Stars" by S stop. A The first thing that we did when we went into the ean O'Casey The play is se

. room (after sitting down and getting to know them) t during the were s build up and events of the was an exercise where we had to come up with a plot 1916 Rising town w

in Ireg d n a lanh

beginning of form a story about a girl who suspects that her best d .

A t u th e lo e ye perform ea r,P Ms. Kavana friend robbed her necklace while at her party. gh had Seeproinmisged “usTththh at we could portray

y b go to r

d e se play if we ev e m th e o f e” r fo After we thought about it for a few minutes two heartbre -un dpa gerorup who were s r a t S

p e u tt h in t g it on. people were taken out from the class to act out the understa scene. A typist wrote down what they were saying However and we used what they had said later in the day.

As usual, M p s u K avanagh kep rocould have on the 5 as from t afor G We came upD excellent ideas what m t her word a a r

n e n th ll d u A p c ri l our fifth ye Kil happened and we all had a great time were all g ar ear)

th Y Sarah Kenny (5

r ve aspect of ou ti ra a p m o c e th As part of r lish course, ou g n E te a ic if rt e Leaving C r of the sixth yea ty ri jo a m e th class and e play "The th g in y d u st re 22 nglish classes a E sey. " by Sean O'Ca rs ta S e th d n a Plough nd

English class, and th ree 6th year tension fla E n g li sh classes, travelled aw ay from the refuge of Wicklow to y of our Ttwo it rm o n e the sm e th , d a e we arrllivvillage of Kilcullen, wn to he actors County WKhilednare to watc work and d used the to hrathlleyir cDara te li s Grouph se u m a 's upgroedb uction of "T e buses, weattributed to d ath heoPulonute m Stars". g is h d e n d w the s A stop. perfaollrmanc such a sm r e th e h w to s a l St. Gerard’s Senior e producti were sceptica hthSchool to reach the hig

town would be

able

hat is needed to

S e e i n g “ T h e P l o u g h a n d t h e S ta r s ” p e r f o r m e d b y K i l c u ll e n D r a m a Group Sarah Kenny F I F TH Y e a r

As part of the comparative aspect of our Leaving Certificate English course, our class and the majority of the sixth year English classes are studying the play “The Plough and the Stars” by Sean O’Casey. The play is set during the build up and events of the 1916 Rising in Ireland. At the beginning of the year, Ms. Kavanagh had promised us that we could go to see the play if we ever found a group who were putting it on. As usual, Ms Kavanagh kept her word and on the 5th April our fifth year English class, and three 6th year English classes, travelled away from the refuge of Wicklow to the small village of Kilcullen, County Kildare to watch their Drama Group’s production of “The Plough and the Stars”.

When we arrived, the enormity of our two huge buses literally caused the town to stop. As we dismounted the buses, we were sceptical as to whether such a small town would be able to reach the high performance standards that is needed to portray the vast range of emotions and heartbreaks that are essential to the understanding of this renowned play. However we were not to be disappointed as from the moment the play began we were all gripped by the intensity and tension flawlessly displayed on stage. The actors were phenomenal; their hard work and dedication in their rehearsals attributed to their outstanding performances. However, the highlight of the production, in my opinion, was the incredible set. The changes between the backdrops and props and the speed at which it was done really added to the atmosphere and the tension of the storyline of the play.

The trip to Kilcullen was incredibly beneficial. Seeing the play on stage allowed me to gain a more comprehensive understanding of the play and its characters. The production brought the characters to life for me and really portrayed the reality of life in 1916 Ireland effectively for all the audience. The play allowed me to get a clearer insight and deeper knowledge of the plot as a whole and also helped me to remember small aspects of the subplot that had not seemed as prominent to me before.

I’d wish to congratulate Kilcullen Drama Society for their fabulous production of “The Plough and the Stars”. I’d also wish to thank Ms Kavanagh on behalf of all the English classes for bringing us to see the play as not only was it educational, it was incredibly enjoyable!

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Sp e e c h d e l i v e r e d at N at i o n a l F i n a l o f S o r o p t i m i s t P u b l i c Sp e a k i n g C o mp e t i t i o n f o r G i r l s , March 11 2017

Emma Beashel F ORTH Y e a r

Good afternoon Chairperson, Adjudicators, lady Soroptimists, and fellow speakers. My name is Emma Beashel, and I am here today to discuss with you the importance of freedom of the press.

While preparing for this competition I was reading an article on the Guardian Newspaper website when a box popped up prompting me to donate to help them continue their journalistic work. In a world where many of us wouldn’t dream of downloading anything if it’s not free, my natural reaction was to edge the cursor towards the small “X” in the corner. Yet, I suddenly paused, my finger hovering above the mouse, frozen in thought. I began to wonder whether, in the aftermath of an election in the United States where much has been made of fake news and its impact on determining the result in one of the greatest democracies on earth, I really should donate.

That is, if I want to help ensure the future of a free press in our part of the world.

When you hear the words “Freedom of the press”, what usually springs to mind? For many of us it would be those countries with appalling human rights records such as North Korea, where all media is under total government control and where merely listening to foreign broadcasts is a crime that could land you in prison, or worse.

We also think of scandals exposed by a free press in the face of government pressure, such as the Watergate scandal which toppled a president.

Or perhaps the institutional abuse scandals both here and in the USA that have been laid bare by courageous journalists and editors such as at the Boston Globe. The Oscar winning film Spotlight showed the importance of investigative journalism in reaching the truth. Not even the powerful Catholic Church could suppress the appalling reality in the face of such tenacious journalists.

But the reality today is that for all of us freedom of the press is under threat. Maybe

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from extremism such as the horrific attacks at Charlie Hebdo or maybe in a more subversive way from vested interests, big business and powerful dynasties. If you have enough money today you might own a newspaper or a television network. Were Donald Trump to have lost the US presidential election it was rumoured he might start his own television network. If you can’t make the news maybe, if you are powerful enough, you can manipulate it. Can a press subject to such manipulation really be considered free?

Increasingly people receive their information about current affairs and news events from social media but, depending on our preferences and what we “like” and don’t like, we’re often only seeing the version of the news that social media giants determine we prefer.

In the media studies section of my Junior Cert English paper last June there was a graphic on News Consumption Habits and we had to identify which news consumer we were. Chatting with friends afterwards I was fascinated to note that most described themselves as someone who just scanned the headlines but didn’t look any deeper. For real unbiased news we need to support the mainstream media, the Irish Times, RTE the BBC and the like. We are truly privileged to have them. Citizens living under dictators and rigid regimes can but dream of the privilege we enjoy. We can read and listen to our leaders decisions, laws and policies being challenged, criticised or perhaps even lauded, and this all helps us form our own views.

In the Irish Times last November Una Mullally had a very persuasive piece on the proliferation of fake news websites during the US Presidential election. More than 140 pro Trump fake news sites were manned in Macedonia where articles were written to generate cash for clicks. I cannot put it more starkly than to quote Ms Mullally’s words where she wrote “let the cold shiver of

St. Gerard’s Senior School

realisation that there are potentially more quick fix opportunities for young people in fake news than there are in real journalism course through your body�. A free press holds government and citizens to account. We live in a democratic country with many rights and freedoms guaranteed for all of us.

Worldwide millions are not so fortunate. We have unwittingly and unknowingly fallen victim to a new breed of censorship. It is not imposed by a secretive government, nor a tyrannical dictator, but us. We censor our own news, as we only listen to what we want to hear, blind to the true facts we cannot bother to read. Slowly but surely true freedom of the press is being eroded.

I first delivered this speech in the immediate aftermath of the US Presidential election. And the day before the Regional finals when I delivered it again, was my 16th Birthday, the day of President Trump’s inauguration. I had hoped that day would see history being made with a woman shattering the highest of glass ceilings, but instead, if anything, society seems to have regressed. It has been shocking to see the President of America

L i t e r a r y M a g a z i n e 2 0 17

declare mainstream media to be the enemy, to bar respected news outlets from White House briefings and as we have seen recently in relation to President Obama, to peddle unfounded conspiracy theories as though they were fact. I have every faith that there are journalists at work right now selflessly pursuing the truth and they need our backing.

We may not live in North Korea, or even in the USA, but if we want to ensure the future of a free press, we need to support mainstream media.

Maybe next time I will click on that donate button, and I hope that you would too. Thank you.

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N o w W e ’ r e Ev e n Jessica Knatchbull F IRST Y e a r

The scorching autumn sun shone down on the busy little town. Not a single bird was in sight.

The tall buildings of faded colours gave shade on the narrow, windy roads of the bustling folk running errands for their family. Smoky, puffed clouds were coming from the tuk tuks and vehicles filled the air with an oily, sooty smell.

A small, twisty, narrow path led upwards to rich green mountains that rose into the wispy clouds where down below the wildlife frolicked in the breezy winds howling in the grass.

Resting on the mountain hillside with a piece of wheat jutting out of the side of his pouting lips, he pondered on a bad, remembered memory. He should have not fired those two harmful bullets from that deadly pistol. How had it come to that?

How did he manage to stumble into this messy, disastrous situation? Every day now, he grabbed the local newspaper, his hands shaking with every turn of the pages. Hassan just needed to know if she was alive and ok! Every night, he would draw tears and pray to Allāh for her, and to forgive him for his sins. This mess with those bad people had driven him to take refuge in his uncle’s home where he was now a goat shepherd to earn his place in the house.

Uncle Alki lived in the hills, hidden from the dangers of the town - just the perfect place to conceal the monster that he had become. If only there was a way to change the past. He was dragged into this nightmare all because he needed the money for his family and for his youngest daughter to get better. It wasn’t his first job choice and he really just got pushed into the whole situation without realising. They ambushed him and threatened to kill him if he didn’t join their terrorist team. He had no other choice but to join because he needed the money.

Why did life have to be so darn cruel?

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Hassan knew that he couldn’t keep hiding out forever because someday he would be found.

Hassan just wished that he could be reunited with his family. He wondered and worried if they were safe and hoped that no one was hurt because of him, he thought. They have been worried sick about where he was, but he knew it was for the best that they didn’t know his whereabouts. Uncle Alki would have a heart attack if he knew all fourteen family members decided to stay at his house for hiding. Hassan’s lip slightly tugged upwards, just for a second at the thought. It didn’t last long. Hassan never really smiled anymore, and he thought that he would never be able to laugh and joke with his friends again. All his freedom had been minimised to only the hills, as though all his previous privileged space had been sucked up into a small circle on a hill.

Hassan missed going to work and coming home to see his beautiful wife laying his steaming dinner out on table. He would talk to his wife about how their five children got on during the day and hear about her life and the local gossip.

Sometimes Hassan gazed adoringly into his wife’s sparkling emerald green eyes and it just filled him with a flame of firing heat that made him feel warm and pleasant in his stomach. Then, he would venture off to the kids’ bedrooms and kiss them all on their heads at night, gently so that they didn’t stir and wake up. Oh, what he would do to just have a perfect day like that just one more time.

A raging group of goats leapt up the jutting hill, knocking Hassan down flat, pressed onto the fertile ground beneath him. He scrambled up, with scratch marks and hoof-marks imprinted on his skin and squinted to see two hooded figures

St. Gerard’s Senior School

with a red symbol on their left arm, jogging carefully towards the house where Uncle Alki was peacefully reading the local newspaper. Hassan started to panic, finding himself sweating with fear, feeling helpless and cowardly as he watched the new strangers creeping nearer to the house, through the side of the hill. He felt like his stomach was exploding inside with a swarm of bees buzzing to be let out. Hassan tried to move towards the house, hoping somehow he could warn his uncle about what dangers were coming his way, but no matter how hard he struggled to move, he went all stiff and froze in fear. Hassan felt like all his organs inside were internally screaming as he stood frozen to the spot.

The strangers in the black came quietly to the front door and knocked three times. The after five seconds, one of them withdrew from his draped, black clothing a pistol while the other threw himself full force into the door and shattered the chestnut wood to splintering pieces.

A shout of surprised fear bellowed out through the valley hills, followed soon by a piercing bang that exploded through the hills, sending nestling birds scampering hurriedly up into the atmosphere.

Hassan dropped to his knees, letting out a small, whimpering cry. He fell with face flat onto the earth, knocking him unconscious. The strangers slyly slid out of the murder scene and headed to the mountains where they found the unconscious Hassan twitching. One of the hidden strangers knelt down and slapped Hassan in the face in one swift move, hearing the satisfying sound as he made contact with his skin. Hassan stirred, winching in the dazzling light shining brightly in his face and feeling the stinging pain across his cheek. The light was suddenly gone, blocked by this towering shadow. He squinted to adjust of the lighting to see who it was.

up newspaper lying on his lap and looked at the front page with shaking hands. When he looked up, he found the man with the pistol pacing up and down with the deadly weapon firm in his shaking hands, full of rage. The man came closer to Hassan and whacked him with the butt of the gun on the head. Hassan groaned in pain and the man holding him from behind shoved him backwards onto the ground.

“What do you call this?” the man with the pistol screamed in rage, “do you think this is what I asked for? I said I wanted her dead and now here I’m finding you cowering in the hills keeping track of her recovery with the local newspaper!

You had better explain yourself or else I will kill you. Just like your uncle.”

“I promise, I shot her twice on the bus. They took her away to England to have an operation. I would have been thrown into jail if the police had found me.”

“Coward! I think you should rot in that prison, you weak, helpless sissy. Because of you, we lost and now I’ve come to finish the job.”

“Any last words?” The smaller one behind him sneered.

“Tell the Taliban that you’re the most pathetic excuse of a terrorist group if you are defeated by the bravest, strongest little fourteen year old girl in the whole world.”

Hassan’s big tears streamed down his brown, battered cracked skin. He felt the hot tears trickle down his face and then he started to laugh. The handle was pulled and the pistol was fired. The laughter stopped and Hassan fell to the ground with a thud, his eyes wide and fearless

His mouth dropped open, his face running out of colour, draining the blood from his face. Hassan felt like fainting again but two hands had grabbed his shoulder firmly with nails digging into his dried skin. A newspaper was thrown into his face with such force that it gave him a paper cut right under his left eye. Hassan grabbed the rolled

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Our Time Is Limited Anna Byrne F I F TH Y e a r

“Your time is limited so don’t waste it living someone else’s life” - Steve Jobs I have a bucket list, a list of hopes and dreams for my life: I hope to visit an African country, I aim to complete college and become a qualified doctor or teacher, I aspire to have a big family that loves me, and I intend to challenge myself to plan a sky dive.

That is because this is my life and I’m here to speak to you from my point of view. Unfortunately not everyone realises that you determine your own life’s events and I know I didn’t either until recently.

In our world of Facebook and Twitter a lot of people adopt personas, but with all of these alternative identities floating around we have lost our own. On one platform we may be John Doe and on another be Jane Doe but where am I you may ask?

One of the biggest problems in the world is our obsession with social media. Whilst there are many advantages to social media, a lot of people feel a pressure to be a perfect ‘ photo image’ . We are more focused on how many likes we get than on how many people actually enjoy our company. On social media, names like Kim Kardashian, Kylie Jenner and Beyoncé float around. People feel as though to be truly liked they must twerk like Miley, pout like Kylie or Kim and sing like Beyoncé.

Notice how we have fallen into speaking,singing or acting like them. We need to focus on acting like ourselves. It does not matter if you can’t sing like Beyoncé because you sing like you, and that is a much rarer talent. You are each the best at something, it may be sprinting or acting or debating,but it is your talent and no one else’s. Instead of focusing on what we can’t do or what we don’t look like we need to focus on what we can do because we can all do something. There is an old proverb that I feel captures this perfectly and it says: “I am too busy working on my own grass to notice that yours is greener” We need to focus on ourselves and our own talents because they are our own and no one else’s.

In our fantastic world we have changed our vocabulary: we often say ‘let’s be better than her’ or ‘she did a fantastic job, copy her’. But what about stepping back and re-evaluating yourself ? We often compare ourselves to others, questioning our own talents because we aren’t as good as others. We must learn to reexamine ourselves and say ‘I can do better because I know who I am’ or ‘I did a good job! No matter what anyone else thinks’.

The greatest fear, I think, people have is the fear of what other people think of you. Let’s face it when walking into a room we can be judged by our appearance or our attitude and while we try not to, we must accept it is human nature. But we need to try and look beyond our outward appearance. In our modern world it can be difficult to be original a lot of the time. We are just trying to fit the perfect body image. We are taught to believe that if your face isn’t symmetrical and if you don’t fit into a size 6 you can’t be liked.

We need to reprogramme our brains to look at ourselves and not other,to not compare yourself to others because your greatest asset is your originality. Coco Chanel once said “I don’t care what your think of me, I don’t think of you at all “. We must adopt this attitude towards life. We are too busy concentrating on what others think of us that we forget to think of ourselves, this in turn, may lead to mental health issues.

In Ireland today, it was revealed that mental health problems are the single largest source of ill health in

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St. Gerard’s Senior School

adolescents. International figures from the World Health Organisation indicate that 20% of adolescents experience psychological problems. Many mental health issues often stem from social isolation and loneliness. Often in our society people group together and leave others out. Particularly in schools, if one person feels someone doesn’t fit the right characteristics to be popular they can be excluded from a group.

It may be by accident or it may be done purposely but it happens. Understandably, people do not want to be excluded and often change themselves to be accepted. They may dye their hair, change their clothes and in some cases attempt to change their body. Many young people develop eating disorders to do so.

Anorexia rates are worryingly untreated in Ireland. A lot of young people develop these disorders and unfortunately it isn’t recognised until it is at its worst stages. To put it in perspective only 5-10% of young people with mental health disorders are in contact with support services.

We need to adopt a new mindset, we must attempt to judge less. However difficult, we must try to accept more and although it’s difficult we must try to encourage others to be their own unique person. Although it’s difficult, if we try to we can reduce the rates of mental health problems in Ireland. If everyone could learn to be content with themselves and not to worry about how other people see them we can achieve anything. The Italians often say “you should live your own life, because you will die your own death”.

While this may be morbid it highlights that we must live our life to the fullest, because ultimately in the end no one will care how one fitted an image but they will care about one’s personality and one’s characteristics. In the end would you rather people said one was fantastic because one could sing just like Beyoncé or one was fantastic because one was true to oneself ? Personally I would prefer the latter.

In my life I hope to visit an African country, I aim to complete college, I aspire to have a big family, I dare to plan a trip skydiving, and I want to stay true to myself. As Polonius said to Laertes in “Hamlet” - “This above all-to thine own self be true.

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El i m i n at i n g W o r l d H u n g e r b y 2 0 3 0 i s a n Imp o s s i b l e D r e a m a C o n c e r n D e b at E Georgia Ferguson F I F TH Y e a r

Ban Ki Moon once said; “Saving our planet, lifting people out of poverty, advancing economic growth... these are one and the same fight. We must connect the dots between climate change, water scarcity, energy shortages, global health, food security and women’s empowerment.

Solutions to one problem must be solutions for all.”

Good evening ladies and gentlemen, adjudicators, chairperson, timekeeper and members of the proposition. My name is Georgia Ferguson and I am captaining St Gerard’s School team. Tonight we the opposition will be connecting the dots throughout this debate on how it is possible to end world hunger by 2030 and how solutions to one problem must be solutions for all.

Firstly, I would like to define ‘World hunger and highlight the difference between hunger and world hunger’.

We the opposition wholeheartedly agree with worldhunger.org which defines hunger as: a term which has four meanings; - the uneasy or painful sensation caused by want of food - the exhausted condition caused by want of food - the want or scarcity of food in a country - a strong desire or craving World hunger refers to the second and third definitions; the exhausted condition caused by want of food and the want or scarcity of food in a country, aggregated to the world level.

Secondly I would like to define the word ‘eliminate’ Oxford dictionary defines ‘eliminate’ as to completely remove or get rid of (something).

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We the opposition thoroughly believe that it is possible to eliminate world hunger by 2030 and we feel that doubt kills more dreams than failure ever will. The opposition aspire and as the motion states dream to eliminate world hunger and we believe that through methods like the UN’s Sustainable development goals we can slowly but surely climb the ladder to reaching a less hungry world.

Tonight, we are going to bring you our vision and in fact theme of this debate which is the past, present and future children in regards to world hunger. Now I will outline my fellow team-mates speeches and the points that they will bring you tonight.

Sabine O’Connell will travel back in time to the past and share the image of a starving child living in Dublin in the 1950s. Sabine will put forward the following two points: The fact that there is enough food in our world today and the methods we can take to put a stop to world hunger.

From Sabine’s speech we will adopt a positive, optimistic attitude and realise how far we have progressed since the past.

Cian Kelly-Lyth will keep us in the present and share the image of a child living in North China battling with the painful sensation caused by the want of food. Cian will put forward two points.

From Cian’s speech we will adopt a mindful and practical approach to how we can improve world hunger in the present and indeed look to the future where we can definitely eradicate world hunger with the solutions we the opposition put forward tonight.

Joshua Dargan Hayes will allow us to travel in a time machine to the future where he will share an image of a child living in hope and with less hunger. Joshua will put forward the following

St. Gerard’s Senior School

two points: Improved education and how it can help eradicate world hunger and gender inequality and money. From Joshua’s speech we will adopt a hopeful approach to how we can improve world hunger in the future and see the future as something bright that we are working towards rather than a fly stuck in a spider’s cobweb.

Ladies and Gentlemen, we want to push away the cobwebs and free the fly from the spider’ web. We the opposition believe that food shortage is an issue that cannot be solved person to person, we have to stand together. This is why I beg you to oppose the motion.

J a n u a r y 2 3 - 1 6 ( Ta ll i e s ) Shane Malone-Murphy Fifth Year

Standing on edge Waiting to be seen, Overshadowed in an undersized jacket.

“Sorry for your loss” she says, Another name for the book.

Skin and bone became the topic, Neatly wrapped in a brown wicker coffin.

Things get easier and with time you forget, The marks on your brain of past regrets.

Counting up: One, Two, three, One for you and one for me.

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An interview with Ms. Niamh Scallan

Ms. Niamh Scallan

1. Who was the most influential teacher in your education?

So many to chose from! I loved German, Maths, Music and Business, so all of those teachers. My Maths teacher loved numbers and made it so much fun. She was so passionate about Maths.

My German teacher loved school spirit and got excited about everything.

What was the last thing you wrote?

2. What was your experience of English in secondary school?

Not very positive. It was my worst subject; I wasn't very good at it!

A letter of application to Mr Geraghty for this job!

What’s the last thing you’ve read?

3. What was the last thing you wrote?

A letter of application to Mr Geraghty for this job!

Paul O’Connell’s

4. What's the last thing you've read?

Autobiography Paul O’Connell's Autobiography 5. What's your favourite movie?

All of the Harry Potter movies (of course!), “Gone Girl”, “Lion”,” A Beautiful Mind”. I love a good musical as well!

6. What kind of music do you listen to?

Just whatever is on the radio!

7. What's your favourite book/movie genre?

I don't really have a favourite genre. I just like all sorts; drama, romance, comedy, autobiographies.

What’s your favourite movie?

All of the Harry Potter movies (of course!), Gone Girl”, “Lion”,” A Beautiful Mind”.

I love a good musical as well!

What was your experience ofEnglish in secondary school?

Not very positive.

It was my worst subject; I wasn’t very good at it!

What kind of music do you listen to?

Just whatever is on the radio!

Who was the most influential teacher in your education?

So many to chose from! I loved German, Maths, Music and Business, so all of those teachers. My Maths teacher loved numbers and made it so much fun. She was so passionate about Maths. My German teacher loved school spirit and got excited about everything.

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What’s your favourite book/ movie genre?

I don’t really have a favourite genre. I just like all sorts; drama, romance, comedy, autobiographies.

Ms. Jill Roy

An interview with Ms. Jill Roy

1. Who was the most influential teacher in your education?

I would have to say, without being bribed at all, that it was my English teacher Mr. Carr.

2. What was your experience of English in secondary school?

I really enjoyed English in school, myself and a few of my friends published the first literary magazine just a few years ago!!

Who was the most influential teacher in your education?

What’s your favourite book/ movie genre?

3. What was the last thing you wrote?

Emails, class notes and reports are the height of my creative writing at the moment!

4. What's the last thing you've read?

I have just finished Paul O'Connell's love sports autobiography, it wasIexcellent.

I would have to say, without being bribed at all, that it was my English teacher Mr. Carr.

autobiographies

5. What's your favourite movie? andfrom! mystery/thrillers.

Too many to chose I love heist movies like “Ocean's 1” and “The Italian Job” but also you can't go wrong with a good romcom.

What’s the last thing you’ve read?

6. What kind of music do you listen to?

Anything Gavin Dowd played on FM104s “The Takeover” with Gavin Dowd.

7. What's your favourite book/movie genre?

I love sports autobiographies and mystery/thrillers.

I have just finished Paul O’Connell’s autobiography, it was excellent.

What’s your favourite movie?

Too many to chose from!

I love heist movies like “Ocean’s 11” and “The Italian Job” but also you can’t go wrong with a good romcom.

What was your experience ofEnglish in secondary school?

What was the last thing you wrote?

Emails, class notes and reports are the height of my creative writing at the moment!

I really enjoyed English in school, myself and a few of my friends published the first literary magazine just a few years ago!!

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What kind of music do you listen to?

Anything Gavin Dowd played on FM104s “The Takeover” with Gavin Dowd.

Ms. Katie Magee

An interview with Ms. Katie Magee

1. Who was the most influential teacher in your education?

There were two really. The first was a teacher I had briefly in 3rd class in primary school, I don't even know her name. One day during art time I drew a boat on the sea, literally on top of it. The teacher came around and spotted my mistake.

Luckily for us we had a view of the sea A cheque! from the window and there was a ship going by.

She simply asked me to look very carefully at this view and tell her where the ship really was.

I saw my mistake and that set me off really looking at things around me. It was a lucky moment for her but even more so for me.

What was the last thing you wrote?

What was your experience ofEnglish in secondary school?

The second would have to be Sr. Diane, my secondary school art teacher. A Trinidadian nun, a petite little lady full of life but oozing an inner calm too, she was an excellent art teacher.

Who was the most influential teacher in your education?

Mixed, for Junior Cert I had an excellent teacher who had passion for the subject and brought it to life. The same cannot be said for my Leaving Cert teacher which is a pity.

2. What was your experience of English in secondary school?

Mixed, for Junior Cert I had an excellent teacher who had passion for the subject and brought it to life. The same cannot be said for my Leaving Cert teacher which is a pity.

There were two really. The first was a teacher I had 3. What was the last thing you wrote? briefly in 3rd class in primary school, I don’t even know A cheque! her name. One day during art time I drew a boat on the sea, 4. What's you've read? came around and spotted my literally on the toplast ofthing it. The teacher Brunelleschi's Dome by Ross King, sad but true. mistake. Luckily for us we had a view of the sea from the window and 5.there was a ship going by. She simply asked me to look very What's your favourite movie?

That's hard to answer onetell thather I'm happy to revisit everyreally so oftenwas. is “The French carefully at this viewbut and where the ship I saw Connection”. my mistake and that set me off really looking at things around me.

ItWhat was akind lucky moment her 6. of music do you for listen to?but even more so for me.

What’s your favourite movie?

That’s hard to answer but one that I’m happy to revisit every so often is “The French Connection”.

All sorts, I have eclectic taste in music.

The second would have to be Sr. Diane, my secondary

7. What's your favourite book/movie genre? school art teacher. A Trinidadian nun, a petite little My favourite genre of film would be thriller or crime thriller preferably based on a true story.

lady full of life but oozing an inner calm too, she was an excellent art teacher.

What’s the last thing you’ve read?

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What kind of music do you listen to?

All sorts, I have eclectic taste in music.

Brunelleschi’s Dome

by Ross King, sad but true.

What’s your favourite book/ movie genre?

My favourite genre of film would be thriller or crime thriller preferably based on a true story.

An interview with Brendan Whelan Brendan Whelan 1. Who was the most influential teacher in your education?

Dermot O’Connell, he was always very tough and very influential because of that!

What’s the last thing you’ve read?

‘Horse’s Mind’ by Lucy Rees.

Horses have always been my passion. I was a stud manager before this and I’d highly recommend it if you are into horses.

2. What was your experience of English in secondary school?

I always liked English because you’d always be able to pick it up and understand it quickly and I always enjoyed being able to talk to and help foreign exchange students when they came over.

What kind of music do you listen to?

3. What was the last thing you wrote?

I write every day. I’ve to write a diary everyday Don Winters and musicians in work about the things we do and I also always write down three positive things that happened to me in that day. It helps me to relieve stress. like him. I love country

What’s your favourite movie?

music but I always

4. What's the last thing you've read? listen to classical ‘Horse’s Mind’ by Lucy Rees. Horses have always been my passion. I was a stud manager music in the car to relax. before this and I’d highly recommend it if you are into horses.

I love Tom Hanks in ‘Green Mile’ 5. What's your favourite movie? and I grew up watching the old I love Tom Hanks in ‘Green Mile’ and I grew up watching the old kung-fu movies with kung-fu movies with Bruce Lee, Bruce Lee, Charles Bronson and Clint Eastwood and I’d always tune into them if they are on Charles Bronson and Clint Eastwood tv. and I’d always tune into them What kind of music do you listen to? if6.they are on tv.

Don Winters and musicians like him. I love country music but I always listen to classical music in the car to relax.

What was your experience ofEnglish in secondary school?

I always liked English because you’d always be able to pick it up and understand it quickly and I always enjoyed being able to talk to and help foreign exchange students when they came over.

Who was the most influential teacher in your education?

Dermot O’Connell, he was always very tough and very influential because of that

What was the last thing you wrote?

7. What's your favourite book/movie genre?

I love good comedies like ‘Only Fools and Horses’, and John Cleese in ‘Fawlty Towers’ is I write day.

I’ve to write a hilarious. My favourite episode is the one withevery the Irish builder!

diary everyday in work about the things we do and I also always write down three positive things that happened to me in that day. It helps me to relieve stress.

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What’s your favourite book/movie genre?

I love good comedies like ‘Only Fools and Horses’, and John Cleese in ‘Fawlty Towers’ is hilarious.

My favourite episode is the one with the Irish builder!

Mr. Martin Shelly

An interview with Mr. Martin Shelly

1. Who was the most influential teacher in your education?

My most influential teacher was Mr. Egan. He taught Technical Graphics and Technical Drawing; a brilliant teacher who went above and beyond the call of duty for his students. He was a hard taskmaster, tough but fair.

What’s the last thing you’ve read?

What kind of music do you listen to?

I recently read Enda McNulty’s

bookwas “Commit”.

It’s a sport 2. What your experience of English in secondary school? psychology book for coaches I still remember my “Macbeth” quotes from and players, well worth Leaving Cert English, however my favorite a read. and Technical subjects were Woodwork Graphics, so I didn't really apply myself to English as I should have.

The playlists on my phone have everything from Irish folk to pop to a bit of hip hop - strictly no heavy metal though.

3. What was the last thing you wrote?

The last thing I wrote was my wedding speech; it was very emotional… Even the cake was in tiers!

What’s your favourite movie?

4. What’s the last thing you’ve read?

I recently read Enda McNulty’s book "Commit". It's a My sportfavourite psychologymovie book foris,coaches and players, well worth a read.

What was the last thing you wrote?

5. What’s your favourite movie?

“Where Eagles Dare” - a Christmas classic even My The favourite “Wherewas Eagles Dare” - a Christmas classic thoughWar it's a World last movie thingis,I wrote though it’seven a World War Two film. my wedding speech; it was Two film.

6. Whatvery kind of music do you listen to? emotional…

The playlists on my phone have everything from Irish folk to pop to a bit of hip hop - strictly Even the cake was in tiers! no heavy metal though.

7. What’s your favourite book/movie genre?

My favourite book/movie genre would be war/history books and films, especially books and films based on World War Two.

Who was the most influential teacher in your education?

My most influential teacher was Mr. Egan.

He taught Technical Graphics and Technical Drawing; a brilliant teacher who went above and beyond the call of duty for his students.

He was a hard taskmaster, tough but fair.

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What was your experience ofEnglish in secondary school?

I still remember my “Macbeth” quotes from Leaving Cert English, however my favorite subjects were Woodwork and Technical Graphics, so I didn’t really apply myself to English as I should have.

What’s your favourite book/movie genre?

My favourite book/movie genre would be war/history books and films, especially books and films based on World War Two.

Ms. Cristin Kehoe

An interview with Ms. Cristin Kehoe

1. Who was the most influential teacher in your education?

My English teacher: Ms Hennessy.

2. What was your experience of English in secondary school?

I loved it! There was one day when we were studying a poem called “Bog Land’ and Ms. Hennessy told us we should all go around to a bog! She made it sound really inviting and was a bit nuts!

Who was the most influential teacher in your education?

3. What's your favourite book?

I couldn’t pick just one. I’m currently reading ‘The Girl Who Escaped ISIS’, by Farida Khalaf.

It’s her autobiography about her story as a Yazidi woman who was captured by ISIS.

What kind of music do you listen to?

4. What kind of music do you listen to?

My English teacher: POP! It makes me happy. My favourite song​ ​is “I Will Always Love You”, the Whitney POP! It makes me happy. My favourite Ms Hennessy Houston version. When it comes on the radio I put it on full volume, put down the windows song is “I Will Always Love You”, and everyone has to listen to it on the street and I don’t really care.

What was your experience ofEnglish in secondary school?

the Whitney Houston version.

When it comes on the radio I put it on full volume, put down the windows and everyone has to listen to it on the street and I don’t really care.

I loved it! There was one day when we were studying a poem called “Bog Land’ and Ms. Hennessy told us we should all go around to a bog!

She made it sound really inviting and was a bit nuts!

What’s your favourite book?

I couldn’t pick just one.

I’m currently reading ‘The Girl Who Escaped ISIS’, by Farida Khalaf.

It’s her autobiography about her story as a Yazidi woman who was captured by ISIS.

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St. Gerard’s Senior School

2017 42