OBEY YOUR MOTHER

“It is the same thing in this school. We teachers have our parts to play. That is our job. You pupils have your part to play. You are to obey the rules of the school. In your home, your parents tell you what you should and should not do. Everyone has a part to play. You, as small as you are, have a part to play and if you don’t do it, things can fall apart. You must pull your weight at home. You must obey your mother. Obedience is heaven’s law.”

That was the head teacher of Nelson Street Boys’ RC School, Mr Prince Ferdinand, speaking to us in the singing class in the early forties. All teachers — Mr Bartolo, Mr Millette, Mr Pierre, Mr Dedier and the others — were capable of delivering inspirational speeches spontaneously.

In preparation for Mother’s Day, we copied the songs from the blackboard and he explained every word, every sentence. One song in particular, stored in my memory bank, began like this, “There is a spot in my heart which no colleen may earn.” The head teacher told us that the song — “Mother McCree,” although it was Irish, was applicable to the whole world. A “colleen” — was their word for a girl or young lady. When we grow up, we’ll fall in love but that love could never replace a mother’s love.

“As soon as you start playing the fool, drinking rum or doing other wrong things, your lady would not love you any more. Her love is for a time but your mother’s love is forever.” And so he went on. “Ferdie, his nickname, asked us to practise another Mother’s Day song —“Children obey your mother / Obey Obey her now / For when you lose your mother / You lose the best of all.”

Three groups had their celebrations at the same time — Stages 1, 2 and 3 in the Infant department, Standards 1 to 3 in another part of the school and Standards 4 to 7 — had theirs in the big building, with Mr Ferdinand as the main man in charge. All the boys whose mothers were alive wore red paper carnations while those whose mothers had died, wore white.

I remember the head teacher expressing condolences to those boys whose mothers had died and telling them, they had to study just as hard or even harder than the others because that was what their mothers would have wanted them to do. He gave us the history of Mother’s Day — how it was celebrated in America on the second Sunday in May and in England — the Mother Country — on the fourth Sunday in Lent and is called Mothering Day.

Mr Ferdinand called on us to sing out loudly and clearly, from our hearts and souls one of the songs to mother which he had taught us. His favourite was — “M is for the Million things she gave me / O means Only that she’s growing old / T is for the Tears she shed to save me H is for her Heart of purest gold E is for her Eyes with love light shining / R means Right and right she’ll always be / Put them all together, they spell MOTHER / The word that means the world to me.”

“Honour thy father and thy mother” — the fourth commandment, was the theme of the speeches. The teachers emphasised we must “love, reverence and obey our parents in all that is not sin.” The best way to show that we loved our mother was to obey her because she knew what was best for us. After each teacher’s oration, we would sing our hearts out with a Mother’s Day song.

An Irish song which reminded us when we were babies went like this, “Over in Killarney, many years ago / My mother sang a song to me, in tones so sweet and low / Just a pretty Irish ditty, in her good old Irish way / And I’ll give the world if she could sing / That song to me this day / Too-a-roo-a-roo-a. Too-a-roo-a-rah. Too-a-roo-a-roo-a, hush now don’t you cry. Too-a-roo-a-roo-a Too-a-roo-a-rah, Too-a-roo-a-roo-a that’s an Irish lullaby.”

Mr Ferdinand explained, “Probably, your mother sang that for you as she held you in her arms or looked at you in your cradle or bassinet. Or maybe, she sang in french patois, ‘Doh doh, petit popo,’ which means, ‘Sleep my little baby.’ “Of course, that brought a little laughter to the very serious sombre celebrations.

Once three wealthy sons who always competed with one another, went all out one Mother’s Day. The first son sent his mother a chauffeur driven limousine ready to take her anywhere she wanted. The second sent her the latest in television technology, a set that can show about five thousand movies by just pressing a few buttons. The third travelled all over the world and eventually bought a very rare exquisite bird that could carry on an intelligent conversation in five languages and recite the Talmud.

A week later, the sons visited their mother and asked how she liked their gifts. They listened carefully, each one thinking his gift was by far the best. She told the first, “Oh, Abraham, my son, it was just what I wanted. I can now go anywhere I want.” She said to the second, “Oh, Isaac, my son, it was great. I have already seen a few of the old Charlie Chaplin films and Ben Hur.”

When her last son asked how his mother liked his gift, she responded, “Oh, Jacob, my son, that was wonderful. It tasted most delicious.”