These are the moments you dream about as a parent. We're sitting in the concert hall in Mount Anville with three or four hundred other moms and dads, all of us grinning like idiots. The curtain has just gone up on South Side Story, Honor's modern-day, south Dublin take on the original, exploring the bitter gang rivalry between the children from Educate As One, a co-educational, multidenominational school in Sandycove, and Gaelscoil Naomh Eithne, a Catholic, Irish-speaking national school in Glasthule.
We're, like, five minutes into it and the girls and boys from Educate As One gang launch into their first number, When You're Co-Ed:
“When you’re co-ed,
You’re co-ed all the way,
From your first Lego set
To your last dyin’ day.
“When you’re co-ed,
You’re not frightened of girls!
You grow up gender blind!
The best school in the world!”
Sorcha turns around to me with a look of, like, shock on her face? She's like, "Oh my God, Ross, what are they doing?"
I’m there, “What are you talking about?”
"Honor was told by Miss Pallister to rewrite this song because the lyrics could potentially offend . . . I don't know, someone? Why are they all singing the first version she wrote?"
“I don’t know. Maybe because Honor is the writer and director of this musical and we raised our daughter to stick to her principles.”
“Excuse me?”
“Like your great hero. Mandinka.”
“His name was Madiba, Ross. Oh my God, you didn’t actually encourage her to do this, did you?”
“To do what?”
“To tell Miss Pallister that she was going to change the lyrics, then arrange with the other girls to perform the original songs on the night.”
“I think we said our priority was to raise a daughter who doesn’t take S, H, One, T, from anyone.”
“I never said that. I wanted to raise a daughter who does what she’s told and looks on me as, like, her best, best friend.”
We’re both suddenly looking at Miss Pallister, the music teacher, who’s playing the piano with a look of, like, horror on her face, as it suddenly dawns on her that our daughter has put one over on her here. She keeps on playing, though.
“Some folk get us wrong!
They say we’re atheistic!
But that’s way too strong!
Our curriculum is holistic!
We’re kind of humanistic!
“So now you’re co-ed
With a capital C!
Just a small donation!
No, we don’t call them fees!
When you’re co-ed,
You stay co-ed!”
The song ends. Everyone in the audience stares at the person sitting next to them, in just, like, open-mouthed silence. Then they all clap.
"Oh my God," Sorcha goes, "people are offended, Ross. They're clapping out of politeness, but there'll be letters to the Times about this."
I'm there, "There won't be letters to the Times."
“Honor’s going to be expelled.”
“Look, she hopefully won’t be. She’s done way worse than this in her time. We’ll explain that to them if it comes to it.”
I’m looking at Honor. I can see her standing in the wings of the stage, one hand on her hip, the other giving Miss Pallister the famous one-finger salute, just letting her know that she’s the winner here.
It’s the same gesture I used to give to the haters back in my Senior Cup days. My daughter is so like me it sometimes makes me want to cry.
Of course, Miss Pallister doesn’t want to let herself down in front of all these parents, so she keeps on playing the piano, with a face on her like she’s trying to pass a laundry ball through her urinary tract.
She plays on through the scene where Maria, the girl from the Catholic Gaelscoil, falls in love with Tony, the heathen boy from the mixed school where the children are taught to respect all religions with Parity of Indifference. And the scene where Tony stands at the foot of the fire escape and vows to convert to Catholicism and learn Irish to win her heart.
I look at Sorcha. I swear to God, she’s on her phone, googling other schools. She goes, “I wonder would Teresian’s take her?”
Miss Pallister plays on through the scene where the two rival schools hold a war council in the sushi bar in Dundrum to discuss what weapons to use for the big fight. The Catholic kids choose guilt and threats of eternal damnation, the Educate As One kids choose absolute certainty and condescension.
In the aisle to my right, I can see teachers furiously whispering to each other, obviously debating whether or not they should drop the curtain now and apologise to everyone. But, of course, what with this being Mount Anville, they have to ring someone first to find out their legal position.
And then suddenly it’s too late for them to stop it because we’ve come to the final scene, the one where Tony is shot and Maria, in her grief, chases away the priest who attempts to administer the last rites to him, with a plenary indulgence nailed on in an effort to save his non-believing soul. Then Maria cradles her dying boyfriend in her orms, renounces her religion and says she’s going to join a co-educational, equality-based, child-centred, multidenominational school. She sings:
“Hold my hand and we’re halfway there,
It costs no more than what you can spare.
Respect . . .
Diversity . . .
Inclusion . . .”
The lights go out. In the dorkness, I can hear Sorcha go, "If Teresian's don't want her, we could always try Loreto on the Green."
The lights come on again and all the actors are standing at the front of the stage. And that’s when the most incredible thing happens. The entire audience gets to its feet. They clap and they roar and they shout the word “Author!” over and over again.
Honor eventually steps out of the wings. Between bows, she smiles at Miss Pallister in a way that says, ‘You can’t touch me – and you so know it!’
And I have to tell you, I’ve never been more proud of the girl.
ILLUSTRATION: ALAN CLARKE