I became a teacher myself at some point in my life and may venture into the same career in the future. But if that time comes, it would be in a less oppressive and less miserable environment that provides teachers the intangible benefit of pride and dignity not only of the profession but as a human being. But here goes Mc Court and his lamentations and he writes:
“If I knew anything about Sigmund Freud and psychoanalysis I’d be able to trace all my troubles to my miserable childhood in Ireland. That miserable childhood deprived me of my self-esteem, triggered spasms of self-pity, paralyzed my emotions, made me cranky, envious and disrespectful of authority, retarded my development, crippled my doings with the opposite sex, kept me from rising in the world and made me unfit, almost, for human society. How I became a teacher at all and remained one is a miracle and I have to give myself full marks for surviving those years in the classrooms of New York. There should be a medal for people who survive miserable childhoods and become teachers, and I should be first in line for the medal and whatever bars might be appended for ensuing miseries.
I could lay blame. The miserable childhood doesn’t just happen. It is brought about. There are dark forces. If I am to lay blame it is in a spirit of forgiveness. Therefore I forgive the following: Pope Pius XII, the English in general and King George VI in particular; Cardinal MacRory, who ruled Ireland when I was a child; the bishop of Limerick, who seemed to think everything was sinful; Eammonn de Valera, former prime minister (Taoiseach) and president of Ireland. Mr De Velera was a half-Spanish Gaelic fanatic (Spanish Onion in an Irish Stew) who directed teachers all over Ireland to beat the native tongue into us and natural curiosity out of us….
Now I think it time to give myself credit for at least one virtue: doggedness. Not as glamorous as ambition or talent or intellect or charm, but still the one thing that got me through the days and nights.”