Ciara D'Eath did not let the fact that she has cerebral palsy deter her from travelling 110km a day for three years to obtain a degree in social care, writes Lorna Siggins.
Most third-level students like to skip the odd lecture and take it easy - at least for a term or two. If you're commuting some 110km (70 miles) each way every day, there's even more temptation.
Ciara D'Eath, however, from Spiddal, Co Galway, has barely missed a lecture since she registered at Athlone Institute of Technology three years ago. For the 23-year-old student and her family, that commute and that level of commitment is no small challenge.
Ciara was diagnosed with severe cerebral palsy when she was born prematurely, but now she has just qualified with a degree in applied social care. She intends to complete a year of further study, and to work in her field - if, she emphasises, a potential employer has enough faith in her ability and determination to give her that opportunity.
And that ability and determination come in spades, as her parents Rob and Maureen D'Eath attest. The couple, who moved to Spiddal 22 years ago and established a pottery business, spent the early years after Ciara's birth trying to ensure that she received as much physical help as possible.
"We did a lot of fundraising - to get Ciara to the Peto Institute in Budapest, Hungary, for instance, and for various therapies," Mr D'Eath recalls.
"We had terrific support from the Spiddal community and made some very good, close friends as a result. At some point, we realised that we had to invest our energy in education, because this was what Ciara clearly wanted."
Back then, mainstream education for students with disabilities of any kind was the exception rather than the norm.
Ms D'Eath remembers that five schools refused to offer Ciara a place before she was accepted at Moycullen National School. A personal assistant attended with Ciara, funded by a Fás scheme, but there was no recognised continuous support and there were no long-term guarantees. "Our target first was to get her through primary education and we never thought beyond that. Then the target became a place in secondary school - to Junior Cert, perhaps," recalls Ciara's mother.
At this stage her parents had become wise to the vagaries of bureaucracy in a political system which encouraged dispensation of favours rather than recognition of rights. So Ms D'Eath anticipated the worst when arriving for a school interview with her daughter. She still remembers the relief she felt when Salerno Secondary School in Galway told her that Ciara had a place. "They did everything they could to make her feel welcome."
Ciara, who uses a wheelchair, was confined to ground-floor rooms. "It meant that the prayer room was the only place I couldn't reach !"
The Junior Cert came and went and before her parents and younger sister and brother knew it, Ciara was studying for the Leaving Cert. She followed this up with a post-Leaving Cert year at the Galway Technical Institute, and secured enough points for social care.
However, the only suitable course was in Athlone. It seemed daunting, but Athlone IT's disability officer was most encouraging. Again, before they knew it, Ciara and parents were rising at 6am daily to meet her personal assistant in Ceannt station for the 7.45am Dublin train. Assisting her along with her personal assistant was a scribe who attended lectures with her, funded by the Department of Education.
During Ciara's second year, her days were particularly demanding, and she wouldn't be back in Galway until 10pm. But she passed all her exams, didn't have to do any repeats, and completed several placements.
A few years ago Ciara acquired her own apartment and she now divides her week between it and her parents' home in Spiddal. Her interests include cinema, dance, spending time on the Promenade in Salthill, and studying. On a trip to Tuscany with her parents last Easter, she listened constantly to course work on her MP3 player.
The placements weren't easy, Ciara admits. "Disability was an issue, but more with staff than clients," she says.
"I think people understandably didn't understand what I was doing, and so on several occasions I had to sit them down and say, 'please, give me a chance, and if you can't do that then ask me to leave'."
Her aim is to work with young people in challenging situations. "I've been through the mill, but not the way they have, and I think that one of the reasons I want to do social care is that I know what it is like to struggle and to be knocked down. I know that there are people out there who need me, and who I can help.
"I try to make this point in every interview I've been for - applying for placements, for instance. Once people see me at work and see that I'm actually quite good, I know that I can repay their faith. I'm hoping that some open-minded people out there will recognise that I have persistence."
Ciara firmly believes that anyone with a severe physical disability can do what she has done. She recognises that she is an inspiration to many, and that the support of her family and assistants has been vital.
"I think if I had ever been able to walk, I wouldn't be the person I am. I wouldn't be half as determined at college, for instance. And I'd say to anyone who is unsure about it that they should follow their dreams, and see what happens . . . and don't ever be put off and don't ever be afraid."