It probably starts just after Christmas, when parents leave those glossy brochures lying around. The first stirrings aren't apparent for a couple of months. Then it starts - talk of school outings. "My sister's school are going to Germany, Belgium and all," Kim exudes. "Where are we going?"
The midday 10-year-old chorus will shriek with memories and anticipation. Heads will pop up like meercats at the thought of waving at honking truckers and spending £14.35 in one shop on tacky souvenirs for 22 assorted relatives.
But this urge to fly freely may be clipped by the principal's directive that tours must be curriculum-centred. Fergal laments that he has to re-evaluate his guided walk, examining rare flora and fauna near the local bookie's shop. Maura's second class are unmoved by a proposed visit to the wax museum, while Louise's farm trips are under review - last year's force-feeding of squashed-egg sandwiches to a lamb by a notorious junior infant was frowned upon by the farmer.
The senior class teachers haven't fared much better with their proposed a trip to Limerick's historic hinterland - including flight to Shannon. The children declared proudly that they had already earned their wings on holidays to Spain, Portugal and Florida. Eamonn concluded that unless a tour involves passport stamping, rock-climbing or bunjee-jumping, it's officially designated by his class as being "crap". As I consider inviting Gillian Bowler, Thomas Cook and even Christopher Columbus (or their ghosts) to mediate, I ponder the marketing of school tours of the future . . . "Having escaped Earth's gravity, we'll orbit the Equator before the booster rockets propel us on our 384,400 kilometre journey to the Moon. On touchdown, we'll venture over to the Lunar Interpretive Centre. Then we'll learn all about Riccioli, Galileo and the Apollo missions. Then we'll visit the Great Hall of Human Parts which includes Neil Armstrong's left foot, Van Gogh's ear, John Glenn's brain, the right instep of Robbie, Ireland's hat-trick hero in the 2010 World Cup. Finally, we'll glide over the Sea of Tranquility before . . ."
"Ah, sir, we flew to the Moon in third class. It was boring."
