I began to use many of the espionage skills I had learned to
make myself invisible to the priests at Violent Hell. That is on the days that I would actually go
to school. Even when there I would still
use the well-known spy trick of hiding in open sight. The most convenient and simplest hiding place
to access was under the main stair well.
Not many people knew about this place and to nip in and out when there
were crowds of boys running up and down the staircase was the easiest thing to
do. It was directly across from the president’s
office and provided you were quiet you could stay for as long as you wanted.
There was still corporal punishment at Violent Hell; however
the priests decided to add another level to the whole punishment scenario. Rather than an explosion of violence, they decided
to implement a system that would stay with you for a number of years. The president of the school normally became
Bishop, so for most of the boys going into medicine or the legal profession you
would continually be meeting the existing president and bishop throughout your
career. Although I was not aware of it
at the time, as I was meant for a much higher calling as Master Candle Maker,
Chief of the O Neill Clan and King of Ireland, their rural cliques held no
interest for me whatsoever.
What they decided was, that if you were to be disciplined you
would be sent from the classroom to the president’s office. Here you would sign for a cane, therefore
leaving a permanent record of your punishment, not the why, but the fact that
you were being punished. Of course those
boys who were signing the book on a regular basis soon found that they would
constantly be reminded about the frequency of their entries in the book.
The book was continually checked and signed by the president
so you knew every time that you met him he was aware that you had been punished
and that would continue well into adult life.
Devilishly clever fellows these priests.
Once you had signed for the cane you took it back to the classroom, the
theory being that you had given the priest time to cool down. He would administer the punishment, you
would thank him and then return the cane to the president’s office and sign it
back in.
One day I was sent out of the classroom and told to go to the
president’s office and get a cane. I
walked into the secretary’s office, which was empty, so went over to the president’s
office and knocked. No reply. I knocked again. Still no reply, so I went in. The office was empty so I went over to the
old wooden cupboard in the corner and opened it. I saw a good dozen, if not more, canes sloped
in the locker. I wondered which I should choose, a long one, a short one, or a
thick or thin one?
I snapped. I took them
all, but instead of obediently returning to the classroom and accepting my punishment
I went out through the main doors of the school, stormed across the car parking
area and dumped the canes on the croquet lawn.
I turned, faced the school, then began breaking and twisting and snapping
the canes, one at a time.
I’m not sure how many canes I managed to destroy. Forward, and to my right, I saw one boy, who
had noticed me, lean out of a window and cheer.
Other boys gradually joined in, till every window at the front of the school
was open and jammed with boys cheering and waving. I focused on them as in my peripheral vision
I could see the black flapping robes of priests, like crows descending on fresh
road kill, home in on me. This is where
I experienced my first ever illegal rugby tackle, and we didn’t even play rugby
at Violent Hell.
I was imprisoned in the president’s bedroom. Why? I
don’t know. The parents were sent for
and it was with great glee that they were informed I was expelled. This time it was for good, I was never coming
back. It was bad enough for mum and dad for
me to be expelled once, but to get expelled for a second time was incomprehensible
for them. They wondered if I was aware
of the shame I had brought on the family.
I wondered if they knew that I was a hero to every boy in that school.
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