It must be Friday, because a pupil from the middle classes is entering the staffroom, smiling broadly and bearing a framed certificate. Miss M, too, is looking suitably demure, as it's she who has recently initiated this weekly award. Better again, she types the citation, and suitably embellishes it on her PC.

The priomhoide always reacts in delightfully predictable fashion, using adjectives such as "splendid, superb and sensational." The child is hugely chuffed, Miss M is suitably affirmed, the priomhoide has given his imprimatur - and, NO, all is not right with the world. Miss B, who, it appears, will have to be dragged screaming into the third millennium, refuses to be impressed by technology and gives her statutory rejoinder in praise of good old-fashioned "chalk and talk." The fact that it's no longer `cool' or `hip' or for that matter acceptable to admit that one is not `into' computers seems to be irrelevant.

We have no secretary, no caretaker, a temperamental photo-copier, an antiquated central heating system, so the idea of surfing the Internet, as put forward recently on a radio programme by our union guru, is not exactly music to her ears. First things first, and let him remember that country teachers pay their union dues just as city folk do. And so say all of us.

How refreshing to have a Transition Year student who is genuinely interested in pursuing a career in primary teaching. We're just so lucky this year. A past pupil of our academy, who, a mere four years ago was chasing around the playground with her classmates during break time, is now able to sit in our staffroom and articulate very dramatically her frustration at the crass indolence of some of our sixth-class pupils.

According to her, if some of our gems, when they arrive in second-level school, handed up certain copies she was helping to correct, the teacher would fire them back at her with ferocity. Which leads us to a discussion on a recent circular from the Department of Education in relation to possible assaults on our good selves. School staffs are now urged to ensure that they are safe from violent and abusive behaviour from pupils, parents, guardians, other staff members or intruders.

What, we ask ourselves, has happened to our safe, secure, pensionable job? Where are you now, Oliver Goldsmith? Where are the boding tremblers, who laughed at all our jokes? The tables are turned on us. We enter the classroom at our peril.