It was a polite revolution. In their Tricot Marine jumpers and Hush Puppy shoes, about 200 ASTI delegates walked out on blessed Michael Woods, just as the Minister was clearing his throat, ahem, and preparing to address them.
Like giddy schoolchildren, the refuseniks gathered outside the hall. There was plenty of the wink-and-elbow language of delight. Fair play to you! they shouted one to the other. Fair play to you!
The refuseniks stood there for a moment awkwardly, unsure whether to linger or head back to their hotel rooms. They had not exactly stormed the Bastille. But there was the same delicious sense of exhilaration. They had given oul' Woods a good crack of the whip and no mistake.
Back inside the convention room, now half-deserted, Michael Woods - for whom the word unflappable could have been coined - ploughed on through his eight-page script. He was saying something about how recent brain research had revolutionised the learning process.
But the attention of the conference had already meandered to the ructions outside. The media were busy covering the Galway Riots (2001 version) so the stuff about the brain and the learning process died a death.
On the top table, some of the ASTI brass looked dismayed by the noisy kerfuffle. But their eyes also wandered towards the exit doors where some of the refuseniks were peering in, just to check what kind of reaction they had provoked.
Later, when Michael Woods at last began to talk about pay, he was repeatedly barracked by those still inside. They shouted: "Say sorry! Apologise! Give us a break!" God knows what those already gone might have said had they stayed. As the catcalls continued, the union's president, Don McCluskey, implored delegates to hold off. But few seemed in the mood to listen.
Afterwards Michael Woods, the well-known douser of flames, ran the gauntlet of further ASTI protests as he made his way to a press conference. For some unfathomable reason, the refuseniks repeatedly chanted "Tiocfaidh ar la". Later, they sang the old Elvis hit, Wooden Heart.
"Please don't break my heart in two . . . 'cos I don't have a wooden heart," they sang as the Minister made his way past.
As he encountered the protesters, Michael Woods cleared his throat, straightened his yellow tie and moved straight ahead with, it must be said, a spring in his step. There were no hard feelings. It had been a very dignified protest, he said.