Memories of Tardree Primary - a home from home for 144 years

SHE had rung it countless times down the years, calling the children back to their studies after break and lunch time, but as she gazed down at the old school bell that day Norma Clarke undoubtedly felt the weight of history upon her.

For the headmistress at Tardree Primary School knew that after 144 years, it would be ringing for the last time that June day in 1981.

Just like Shane’s Castle Primary, which closed the very same day, the death knell had finally arrived for the little two-roomed schools that once dotted the Ulster countryside.

Norma, and her assistant Roberta Wylie - who had both taught at Tardree for 20 years - both knew that the day would inevitably come, but it still felt like the end of an era.

The world had moved on, and they could not stand in its way. So Norma rang the bell.

There had been £57 left in the school funds, so they had spent it to throw the pupils a leaving party to remember. There was even a gift, with each of the youngsters getting a Prince Charles and Lady Diana mug to mark their wedding later that very week.

And after making their emotional goodbyes, the headmistress looked around the small classroom one last time.

“It’s sad to think of it closing after all these years, but I suppose it had to happen,” she sighed.

“There just aren’t the numbers any more. We have 18 now and next year we would have been down to 12.

“In the small country schools like this you really get to know the children and they get to know you. It is like a family in many ways.”

Yes, the boxy, basic old building - 21 foot long and 18 broad - was never going to win awards for its architecture, but since 1836 it had indeed been a home away from home for thousands of children.

It was built through subscriptions from local families - people like the Murdocks, the Bells, the Mansons - many of whom earned their crust on the farm or at the nearby quarry.

Indeed, it was John Bell who drew the first load of granite to the crossroads where the school would be built.

This was very much a pet project for people living in and around Tardree. There were no outside help or grants. Indeed, for the first three years the local even paid the teacher’s salary and all other expenses.

Then in 1840 the committee decided to apply to the Commissioners of Education in Dublin for financial assistance towards new books.

And they needed a few of them too. There were 47 children on the roll and the days were long. In summer classes lasted from 9am until 5pm, but on chillier winter days they had some respite - with the school day lasting from 10am to 3pm.

Writing materials were extremely scarce, and continued to be right into the early 20th century, when slates were still used.

Dublin came through with funding, establishing Tardree as a National School - and subject to the ‘National School Books’.

The children had to master the contents of Book One, before qualifying for the second book - and so on.

And they were more than mere readers. Among the numerous subjects covered were Bible and world history, national history, geography, geology, literature and poetry.

Tom Bell, grandson of the chap who got the ball rolling by delivering the granite all those years before, remembers the system well.

He started at the school in 1913 at the tender age of ‘three years and four days’ back in 1913.

“You got a good all-round education there,” he recalled back in 1981.

“It wasn’t by any means simply confined to the three Rs. I can still quote you passages from The Merchant of Venice.

“I remember my own father, when in his eighties, repeating most of the poem ‘The Loss of the Royal George’.

“We learned from eight readers and you had to master one before you moved on to the next.

“To this day you will still hear some of the older folk, if they want to be really scathing about somebody, say ‘Sure he was never by the third book’.”

Though he was so young, Tom admitted that incidents from his school days were burned on his memory almost 80 years on.

“My first memory is that of the school breaking up for the Christmas holidays. I can still a huge wicker basket, divided into two sections - one filled with apples and the other with oranges.

“As we filed past, we were asked to take one of each. These were the gift of the teachers, Miss Gawn and Mr Miller.

“They paid for them out of their own salaries and, mind you, they weren’t paid much. In the old days the pupils paid about a penny a week towards the teachers’ wages.”

Other memories were more abstract, but no less powerful.

“I remember how the wind used to whine through the pine trees on east side of the playground. I remember how the stonebreaker came every few months to break stones for road-making and repairs.

“These stones would have been brought down from William Gray’s quarry by Jim Manson and left in a pile just across the road from the school.

“Some time during World War One, I recall seeing mounted troops on training exercises just outside the school.

“I have a clear recollection of the modulator, hung over the blackboard, from which we received the basics in musical training.”

There were also the concerts organised to raise funds for the school, and socials from the Farmers’ Union, chaired by the likes of Archie Duncan, Jackson Baird or Alexander McConnell.

Tom said stories from visiting speakers, like the Rev RJ McIlmoyle from Dervock, were something to savour.

“I remember he told a story about how John’s wife had died, and Robbie had called at the house to convey his sympathy.

“The conversation went like this. Robbie: “You’ve been married a long time, John.”

“Ah have,” says John. “For fifty years.”

“You’ll miss her,” said Robbie.

“Ah will, ah will,” said John, “but an odd thing, Robbie. Ah niver liked her!”

Warm memories - but not all of them were.

There was the small building which stood for about a hundred years at the end of the playground.

They called it the Wee House.

“It could be described as a purely functional structure, one which could lay few, if any, claims to architectural grandeur. Two single-seater compartments offered little in the way of bodily comfort.

“Air conditioning there was in abundance. This came from the rear of each compartment and, if the wind was in a certain direction, extremely cold.

“And, I may add, very cold on the extremes!”

Not that it did them any harm, of course. Indeed some Tardree pupils went on to make their mark on the adult world.

Samuel F Gawn, who was born in 1862, went on to have a distinguished car as a medical doctor and a surgeon.

The Duncan brothers, Andrew and Frank, both served with distinction in the Great War, with the US Army. Sadly, Andrew was killed in action, but Frank survived and served in various American Consulates around the world.

George Craig served in the Second World War with the Medical Corps attached to the Paratroops in Burma. He was later decorated by HM King George VI.

The Rt Rev WA Montgomery, who had served as Moderator of the General Assembly, was a former pupil at Tardree - which also doubled as a Sunday School for over a century.

In 1963 he was back to conduct the annual Harvest Service - and Dr Montgomery said it was ‘a great pleasure and, indeed, an honour’ to return to Tardree.

It was in the blood, you see. His father had been superintendent at the Sunday School and in later years both his brother Francis and sister Mary had filled the office.

“The story of Tardree School is one of which you should all be proud,” he said.

Since it closed 44-years-ago, the old building has still been used from time to time, mostly for religious meetings.

But for many it will always be their childhood classroom, their special place, their home from home.