Last week 600 people gathered in a Dublin hotel. Everyone was of one voice - class sizes in Irish primary schools are too big. Education is suffering, children are suffering, the country's economy will suffer and the situation is untenable. The same scene is being repeated across the State. Grainne Fallerreports

'I have three children, none of whom is in a class of fewer than 32." A woman, giving her name as Anne, has begun to speak. Her voice is shaking with barely concealed anger. "I'm at a point where I'm almost hoping that they stop growing. They're so packed into the classrooms and there is no space. . . It's obscene."

A group of people seated nearby nod vigorously and join in the applause as she sits down.

We are two-thirds of the way through a meeting about class size. The Irish National Teachers' Organisation (INTO) is on a mission. As the general election approaches, its members want class size in Irish primary schools to be a major issue. This meeting is one of 35 being held across the State, aimed at informing parents about the importance of the issue to their children's education. The campaign is called "Is Your Child Being Crowded Out?"

Looking around the conference room it's obvious that the INTO has tapped into real public anger on the issue.

Two hours earlier, the car park outside the Radisson Hotel in Stillorgan, Dublin was gridlocked. There were no parking spaces left and the cars arriving had nowhere to go. Volunteers were directing them into neighbouring apartment blocks, anywhere they would fit, but the queue of vehicles just got longer.

Inside the hotel, people were mingling and having a chat. It was only when they started sitting down that the inadequacy of the room became apparent. Before the meeting began, people were standing at the back of the room and up along the sides. By the time 8pm arrived, they were flowing out the door and still more were coming in. Word of the chaos in the car park reached the organisers and the meeting was delayed for some minutes to allow the drivers to arrive. By that time, though, there wasn't any room in the conference hall at all and any newcomers were directed to a reception area where they could watch the proceedings on a big screen.

A turnout of 600 or so people on a cold Tuesday evening is good by anyone's standards, but this isn't an isolated occurrence. It has been happening over and over again, all over the State. There were 800 at a corresponding meeting in Monaghan and another 600 in Donegal. A fortnight ago, 1,200 people turned out in awful weather conditions to a meeting in Cork. That night, the hotel had to turn people away on health and safety grounds.

This time, organisers know what to expect and by the time the general secretary of the INTO, John Carr, begins to speak there are 100 people outside viewing the proceedings on a screen. Everyone gets the irony of being overcrowded in a meeting about overcrowding, but nobody seems to mind. In an impassioned speech, Carr makes the point that will be made again and again during the meeting. At an average of 24 students per class, Ireland has the second biggest class sizes in Europe. Only the UK fits more students in its classrooms, but as UK teachers have classroom assistants and teacher aides, the adult-child ratio is better than the Republic's. The message is clear. Despite a budget surplus of billions, we are at the bottom of the educational pile.

Emotions are running high and the commitment the Government made in relation to this issue in 2002 when it promised to reduce class sizes to fewer than 20 for children under the age of nine is referred to over and over again. The INTO wants the Government to honour its commitment or it wants commitments from Opposition candidates that this issue will be prioritised if they get into power.

Representatives from the National Parents' Council, the Irish Pre-SchoolPlaygroups Association as well as from Catholic, Church of Ireland and Muslim school management associations all get time to speak. Everyone is of one voice on this issue. Education is suffering, children are suffering, the country's economy will suffer and the situation is untenable.

In the middle of proceedings, the INTO's Matt Hume, who is chairing the meeting, is handed a note. He gets up to make an announcement. "At the risk of sparking an exodus," he says, "I have to tell you that people who have parked in the apartment complexes could possibly be clamped." There's nervous laughter, but people stay put.

Well aware that a message can get lost in a mass of speeches - the INTO is made up of teachers after all - the central issues are outlined in a DVD presentation. It gives the figures and shows interviews with teachers about the difference a smaller class could make to the quality of their teaching. A huge number of students are in much bigger classes than the Irish average of 24 as non-teaching principals and resource teachers are counted in official surveys of pupil-teacher ratio.

Teachers shown in the film speak about the time wasted on what is essentially crowd control. They point out that in a smaller class, a child with a difficulty or a problem will be spotted quickly and helping that child will be an easier task. Smaller classes lead to higher grades, we're told and if we are to compete with Europe and the rest of the world in the future, our children need to have the same educational advantages as children elsewhere.

The stories behind the figures are told when the floor opens to parents and teachers.

"I've seen both sides of this," says one mother who doesn't give her name. "I have an eight-year-old in a class of 30 and a five-year-old in a class of 13. The work rate, everything is completely different in the smaller class. . . As a parent I feel I'm being robbed."

One woman, Jennifer O'Regan, stands up and tells a story about her child who was in a class of 36 for four years before moving schools and joining a class of 26. Within a week of moving, her child had been spotted as having difficulties and needing learning support. "She was a quiet child in a large class," says O'Regan. Murmurs of agreement ripple throughout the room amid the clapping.

Having vented their concerns, there is a slight but noticeable tension in the room by the time the political candidates get an opportunity to speak. This is an opposition politician's dream and the speeches go well. That is until John Lehart, who is here representing Government Chief Whip Tom Kitt, gets up to talk. A group of mothers in the third row have been nodding and reacting throughout the speeches. When Lehart begins by acknowledging the importance of the issue and restating the Government's commitment to reducing class sizes in the near future, the women throw their eyes to heaven. "When?" one of them calls. "Yes, when?" another demands. The women are asked to stay quiet but their level of irritation grows as Lehart details all the Government has done so far. "It's obviously not enough," one of them heckles.

As the meeting draws to a close, there is a definite sense of purpose. Parents are encouraged to bring the issues to canvassing politicians. The politicians are told that if they prioritise this issue, their manifesto will be posted to all of the schools in their constituency with the commitment on class size highlighted.

People linger when proceedings finish, talking about the issues among themselves. Outside the hotel, the hum of engines grows louder, going nowhere. The line of cars snakes slowly out of the car park and joins the line leaving the apartment complexes. Traffic is painfully slow and many of the people are still inside. The evening ends just as it began - in gridlock.