Brazilian educator Paulo Freire has argued that all pedagogy is political, and nowhere is that maxim more evident than in Northern Ireland. Maureen, a young Catholic girl living in Derry, has no Protestants in her class—and statistics show that she may never have any Protestant classmates before the time she graduates from secondary school. Jimmy, a Protestant boy from West Belfast, is teased by the neighborhood kids because he has befriended a Catholic boy from another school. On one wall in one neighborhood, the graffiti reads "Down with the Pope." On another wall, "Brits Out."
But politics and attitudes are changing in Northern Ireland. The recent peace initiatives, culminating in the Good Friday Agreement in April 1998, have created an atmosphere if not of total reconciliation than of possibility and hope between two cultures whose pasts are fraught with divisiveness and bloodshed. In A New Ireland(1997), political leader and 1998 Nobel Peace Prize winner John Hume writes: The line on the map was geographical, but the real border was in the minds and hearts of the people. . . . A healing and evolutionary process is the only way to break down the barriers of history, and our challenge is to create the institutions within which that process will take place. (P. 37)
One of those institutions—perhaps the most potent for change—is school.
Separate Communities, Separate Schools
The vast majority of young people in Northern Ireland—about 96 percent—are educated either in Catholic schools or in "maintained," state-run, predominantly Protestant schools. In a country where religious affiliation signifies more than spiritual practice, separate education systems may contribute to what some call cultural or social apartheid. Catholics in Northern Ireland generally identify themselves as Irish and nationalist(part of the Irish nation), whereas Protestants identify themselves as British and unionist(part of the United Kingdom). Catholics are currently in the minority, but only slightly, making up approximately 45 percent of the population.
The consequences of separating Catholic and Protestant students are not clear. Tony Gallagher, a professor of education at Queen's University, Belfast, outlines three general perspectives. One view says that separate schools have no political or social consequence and that Catholics and Protestants should have the right to educate their children as they wish. The second view suggests that separate schools do introduce young people to separate cultural worlds, but that with the right curriculum intervention, students can learn about other cultures and will not feel socially segregated. The government has introduced curriculum initiatives to incorporate community relations programs into the schools.
The third belief is that separate schools send implicit messages to students that reinforce social division. The only way to reverse those messages is through cross-community contact—either in contact programs, where Catholic and Protestant students participate in activities together, or in integrated schools.
For many educators, the phrase integrated education brings back powerful memories of desegregation efforts in the United States during the 1950s and 1960s. "A senior officer of my own university at the time suggested that Northern Ireland education was the 'Alabama of Europe,'" Gallagher remembers. However, he warns of important differences between the United States and Northern Ireland: In parts of the United States, segregated schools were mandated by law and progressive political forces had struggled for years to remove barriers to participation. In Northern Ireland, by contrast, the Catholic schools provided the only significant social system over which that minority community had control. The schools were maintained by choice and at a financial cost to the community. Thus, while in the United States the call to desegregate the schools was a rights-based issue to promote equal opportunity, in Northern Ireland the call toward integrated schools was, and is, largely based on its purported social consequences.
But even the most ardent proponents of integrated education are not looking to put religious or maintained schools out of business; their 10-year goal is to have integrated schools make up a modest 10 percent of all schools in Northern Ireland. Nor are they diminishing the significant role that Catholic schools have historically played to educate a disenfranchised minority community. However, advocates of integrated schools want to make the option available for students to learn together.
Michael Wardlow, director of the Northern Ireland Council for Integrated Education, says that even though all school curriculums must include cross-curricular themes—such as Education for Mutual Understanding and the Study of Cultural Heritage—there is also a "hidden curriculum" implicit when students of different religions are separated. "It is not uncommon that young people might live their whole childhoods never meeting a student from another religion," Wardlow says. "How does peace and reconciliation come about when students can't study together?"
The Integrated School Movement
Although interest in integrated education rose in the 1970s, not until 1981 did the first integrated school, Lagan College, a secondary school, open its doors to the Belfast community. In 1985, three more integrated schools opened, also in Belfast. Now more than 40 integrated schools of all grade levels are scattered throughout Northern Ireland.
From the beginning, the movement has been parent-driven. A campaigning parent group called All Children Together established the first school, and parents today generate interest in, and sometimes even provide funding for, new schools. Lagan College Principal Helen McHugh remembers their indefatigable support: "Parents used to come in and clean the schools on the weekends. They raised money for the school. One parent even mortgaged his house to help keep the school running." She feels that this level of commitment has kept the schools thriving, even through difficult times.
All integrated schools must maintain balanced ratios, not just of students but also of staff and school boards: 40 percent Catholic, 40 percent Protestant, and 20 percent "other or none." Although all schools in Northern Ireland must follow the same common curriculum, in nonintegrated schools, students at age 11 take an exam upon which their future academic success rides. About 30 percent go on to elite "grammar schools" (both Catholic and Protestant) that prepare students for higher education. The rest go on to regular schools, and the dropout rate for these students is high. "This causes a huge chasm between the achievers and the nonachievers," Wardlow says. Integrated schools, in contrast, are all-inclusive. They do not require 11-year-olds to take the exam, and they do not separate students on the basis of exam results. Everyone learns together.
The First Schools
When Lagan College opened, critics charged that Lagan parents and children did not represent the typically divided Belfast community, and therefore they remained skeptical of its success. The Catholic and Protestant parents who started Lagan, they challenged, were well educated and prosperous and got along reasonably well. Principal Helen McHugh counters that charge: Lagan had the reputation for being a "middle-class school." But that isn't true. In the early days, pupils were coming from hard-line areas. They'd have to take off their school blazers when they returned back to their neighborhoods so that they wouldn't be teased by the other kids. This was true for both communities.
But if critics accused Lagan College of being too "middle class," no one could make the same accusation about Hazelwood College, the second integrated school to open. Hazelwood is located in the heart of sectarian Belfast. "Our school is situated in an area that is very divided," says Noreen Campbell, Hazelwood's principal. "There has been sectarian violence between both communities. Our school grounds have been used to launch an attack on police. The tensions created by such a situation can be difficult to handle." And yet the school has continued to flourish. "Our focus in promoting mutual understanding is the creation of an environment within the school that transmits messages about how we treat one another," says Campbell. "Our environment is open, democratic, accepting, and tolerant. We believe that the medium is the message."
She also describes the taboo against sectarianism at the school. "A past student noted to me how shocked she was with the sectarian and small-minded views she had met on leaving Hazelwood to go into further education." Indeed, Campbell sees the school itself as "a symbol of reconciliation, proof that integration works."
As an example of reconciliation, Hazelwood hosts an annual Assembly for Peace for students and members of the community. As anniversaries come around to mark the dates of violent events, integrated schools—like all schools in Northern Ireland—must honor painful memories as best they can. Most students have lost a relative in the Troubles, and many have lost immediate family members. Hazelwood's Assembly for Peace deals with the violence in positive and stirring ways. For example, students make large white banners, and on the front of each banner is the name and date of an event—Enniskillen 1987, for example, or Bloody Sunday 1972. The opposite side of the banner gives the number of people who died. One extremely large banner totals the number of people killed in sectarian violence since the Troubles began. Along with such remembrances, the Assembly for Peace has dancing, music, and festive activities—it is a celebration of life and learning as well as a memorial to those who died.
New Schools: Strangford College
Strangford College, a recently established secondary school in a rural area of North Down, is situated on the grounds of an old castle. The school opened in September 1997, and in its first year had 64 students and 6 full-time staff. This year, it has 144 students and 5 additional staff. Next year, it has slots for 280 students, all of which are filled, with 40 more students already on a waiting list.
During its first two years, the school has been independently funded. Strangford applied for but was denied government funding because, according to Principal Anne Rowe, the government tends to fund schools in overtly troublesome areas. "But you often find more entrenched ideas in rural areas," Rowe says. And despite its romantic setting, the school struggled financially, surviving on the donations of parents and help from other integrated schools. The good news came in December 1998: The government had agreed to fund three more integrated schools. One of these was Strangford College.
"Now we have jobs!" Rowe, a Welsh native, exclaims. "Our vision will be secure. We have proven to people that we deliver high-quality teaching and learning in an integrated setting." The government will provide salaries, new buildings, and mobile classrooms to accommodate the extra students. Rowe stresses that Strangford has always given students excellent learning opportunities, but that hasn't been easy. "We just put on a production of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory," she explains. "We had to drive miles down the road for rehearsal. That takes an enormous commitment from staff, but we didn't want our students to miss out on anything."
The school follows the national curriculum, but it also offers all students electives such as Gaelic Studies and classes in the Irish language—typically offered only to students in Catholic schools. In addition, students participate equally in traditional British games, such as rugby and football (soccer), and in Irish games, such as Gaelic football.
As a result, students mix and socialize naturally. Recently, students from the local town were bussed to athletic fields near where they lived. At the end of practice, five girls asked their teacher whether they could walk home together because they had planned a sleepover at one of the girl's houses. The teacher noted that three of the girls were Protestant, two were Catholic. "They never would have had a chance to know one another were it not for their integrated school," Rowe acknowledges.
Problems erupt, too—fights, name-calling, hurt feelings. The teachers are trained in conflict resolution and use their training daily. When conflicts arise, parents also get involved. A mother phones the school because her son Derek is upset. He wants to be friends with another boy, a Catholic, but he's afraid some other boys don't think it's "cool." One boy told Derek, "You'll be going to Mass soon"—a quip meant to insult a Protestant boy. But with the cooperation of parents, school staff, and the students themselves, situations like this come out into the open. Students learn to talk about, reflect upon, and question those cultural prejudices that, when left unspoken, may fester or become more entrenched.
How can schools balance the need for integration and acceptance with the tradition of separation and silence? "This is a question that is crucial for all schools in Northern Ireland," says Tony Gallagher. "One of the most pervasive effects of the conflict in Northern Irish society has been an unspoken social grammar of silence whereby Protestants and Catholics largely do not discuss their respective views on issues of social division or conflict." Northern Irish poet Seamus Heaney (1975) described this as <POEM><POEMLINE>The famous</POEMLINE><POEMLINE>Northern reticence, the tight gag of place</POEMLINE><POEMLINE>And times. . . .</POEMLINE><POEMLINE>Where to be saved you only must save face</POEMLINE><POEMLINE>And whatever you say, you say nothing.</POEMLINE></POEM>
Integrated schools do have the potential to get beyond these psychological barriers of silence, Gallagher feels. However, he warns against simplistic optimism. Although Catholics and Protestants do have certain traditions in common, "there are aspects of our culture and traditions that are distinctive and different," Gallagher says. A great challenge for integrated schools is to remain sensitive to cultural differences without encouraging social division.
Opponents of Integrated Schools
Integrated schools face other challenges, notably from outspoken critics. The most common and probably least accurate criticism made against integrated schools is that they are available only to privileged classes. But the percentages of students receiving free school meals in integrated versus nonintegrated schools show that this is not the case. An average of 27 percent of students in all schools are entitled to free school meals; this number is only slightly lower—an average of 25 percent—in integrated schools.
Many educators in nonintegrated settings sometimes feel in direct competition with integrated schools. Although teacher unions endorse them on principle, they are wary that integrated schools' popularity can threaten the job security of teachers in neighboring schools. Because education funding is partly determined on the basis of enrollment, these concerns are not unfounded.
Beyond competition issues, the main churches in Ireland are also lukewarm in their attitudes to integrated schools. They feel that integrated schools in principle blame them for the sectarian conflict. The Catholic Church takes particular issue with fielding this blame. In an editorial to the Irish Times, Aidan Donaldson (1997), a teacher at St. Mary's Christian Brothers Grammar School in Belfast, wrote: Rather than portraying the Catholic education system in the North as one of the major bastions of intolerance and integrated education as a solution to the conflict, academics and media alike might do better to examine the wider issues and implications in the education debate. . . . It should not be surprising that the Catholic community would be reluctant to give up control of the sole institution which it controls—the only institution which affords its children access to such things as employment and empowerment.
The real problems in Northern Ireland are about the longstanding, statewide discrimination against Catholics by the Protestant majority—not about mutual ignorance. And some Catholics still feel that, contrary to political rhetoric, inequity remains.
Into the Future
Despite opponents, integrated schools have grown in popularity and public support. "We recently held our Open Day over the weekend for interested parents and community members," Anne Rowe says. "Two thousand people showed up. I had to give my speech seven times." And Rowe's school is not unique. All around the country, parents are putting their children on waiting lists as soon as they are born—and even sooner, with some parents signing up while mothers are pregnant.
But such fervent support still remains in the minority. "Most people say that they would prefer more integration generally," Tony Gallagher says. "These opinion polls appear, however, to be based on the symbolic value attached to evidence of greater community interaction, more than on a direct desire for personal participation."
Indeed, educators emphasize that integrated schools are not the only way to improve community relations. Other formal and informal cross-community projects are bringing Catholic and Protestant students together for such activities as peace rallies initiated and organized by students of both communities. In addition, specific projects to unite educators and students in Northern Ireland with their counterparts in the Republic of Ireland are increasingly popular. The Warrington Project, begun in memory of two boys killed in the 1993 IRA bombing at Warrington, England, is a cross-border project between Northern Ireland and the Irish Republic to give students and faculty from both countries opportunities to get to know one another. In the European Studio Project, more than 200 schools in Ireland and the United Kingdom work together to raise issues about historical, geographical, and cultural differences.
The Department of Education in Northern Ireland, too, has established a working group of educators to explore the many ways that schools can respond to peace, including integration. The group is made up of Catholics, Protestants, "neutral" academics, and Catholic bishops.
In the meantime, Lagan College's earliest graduates, now in their late 20s and early 30s, are having families of their own. A generation brought up in the Troubles will look to a new generation who have known only peace. But although public discourse is optimistic, private attitudes are slower to change. When Lagan first opened, one teacher recalls, as children were bussed from their Catholic neighborhoods through Protestant areas, people threw stones at the school bus. Seventeen years later on their first day of school, the students of Strangford College also endured stones and insults as their school bus drove them to school.
But the children return to their schools, not because they consider themselves political symbols of a new Ireland, but because they are benefitting from a high-quality education. "The focus on children remains central to the aims of today's movement for integrated education," writes Michael Wardlow, "as all those involved believe that children are not the problem but rather the custodians of the solution. They are not only our future hope but our present gift" (Wardlow 1999).
And as these schools become increasingly accepted alternatives to separate schooling, they are proving to be more than abstract emblems of reconciliation. Through parental involvement, staff commitment, and high academic standards, integrated schools create rich, open environments for all students to learn together.
