FOR the past four years Gaelscoil Mhic Amhlaigh has survived in one and then two houses in the sprawling suburban estates which have mushroomed in recent years in Knocknacarragh, on the western fringes of Galway city.
It suffers from all the usual problems associated with all-Irish schools in their infancy: over-crowding, poor facilities, lack of proper textbooks and so on. It could not have survived this far without the 100 per cent commitment of its teachers and founders nor without the equally strong dedication of its parents.
The area now has a population of almost 8,000, about the same as many small towns in rural Ireland. Yet it has no proper school buildings, no public buildings or other facilities apart from a church and one or two shops.
On polling day local residents will have to travel outside the area to cast their votes, because there is nowhere for them to go.
Some of the residents are young couples from Connemara who are unable to find homes in their own areas, because the housing and tourism booms along the coast have pushed prices out of their reach.
Others have arrived from elsewhere to find they have to fight to get ordinary things like a local school and other facilities. In the process, they decided they wanted an all-Irish school, creating the close parental involvement that is an enduring feature of such schools.
The gaelscoil has grown from its humble beginnings and is now on the verge of finally getting a permanent home, once a wrangle over access can be resolved between a local developer and Galway Corporation.
But it has been a long struggle, says the school's principal, Dairiona Nic Con Iomaire. She gestures around the "classroom" where she teaches 30 senior infants: an upstairs kitchen which has had its cooker, sink and worktops removed to make space for the pupils' tables and chairs.
"They really cannot manoeuvre at all throughout the day. We have our own little ways of trying to get around it as much as possible, by having leaders and trying to move around. But it is very difficult for children when they want to get up and get something for themselves. They always have to put up their hands and ask permission," she says.
"But one of the worst things about it is the airing in the room. On a winter's day, if you came in and you said to the children, `Is it cold today?' it could be freezing outside but they'll always say, `No, it's roasting'."
Her main wish for the next government is that it will change the rules to make it easier for teachers and parents who set up new gaelscoileanna, instead of forcing them to jump through the hoops they do at present.
The biggest problem the new schools have to deal with is the inordinate delay in getting official recognition and funding, while the Department waits and watches to see if they will survive.
While this cat-and-mouse survival game goes on, the schools are forced to depend on the voluntary fund-raising efforts of parents to keep them afloat for three, four or five years, while at the same time lobbying intensively for recognition.
"You spend so much energy and time that could be well spent on educating the children in lobbying for the new school," says Ms Nic Con Iomaire.
"If you could spend that time in developing different plans and different things for the school it would be more worthwhile. That's what the education system should be striving for."
She says the rules for new gaelscoileanna should be more flexible and the Department should encourage them more, especially at the early stages.
"So many gaelscoileanna have had to fund themselves when they started off. Parents have had to go out and fund them.
"I worked here myself for three months without pay after leaving a permanent position to come here. Having said that, the Department back-paid me so it worked out OK in the end, but for three months it was quite a struggle."