Randalstown in Co Antrim is what Northerners call "a tight wee town" - not a compliment. It means that in the all-important matter of political and religious affiliations, there has never been much encouragement for deviation from tradition.
Nonetheless, when schools open again after the summer Randalstown will have a new element. Maine Integrated Primary School has been more than two years in the making. Like the bulk of the 50 integrated schools, it will open because people want for their children what they were denied in their own childhood. The town's Catholic and controlled primary schools might be fine establishments in every other way but they lacked something vital to real learning, in the minds of the parents who've lobbied and fund-raised to get Maine up and running. They wanted their children to share lessons and lunch breaks; a school willing to cherish differences and build common ground; classrooms with staff and pupils mixed as the North is mixed.
In another tight little town, the push has scarcely begun. A couple of parents who work together and whose children have played together for several years are sounding out neighbours and friends, but have met more apathy than support.
One young father says he only started to think about the subject when his children asked why their friends went to a different school. "Now I can't accept that at all. Everyone's proud of our good community relations here. So why don't the churches open a shared school? Why can't our kids go to school together?"
It is a modest enough desire. The outside world marvels that integrated education isn't a political priority in Northern Ireland. The answer is that the status quo reflects and is maintained by history, segregation in housing, poisoned and divisive politics. The Troubles pushed some to plan shared schools and reinforced others in their separateness. Many are more comfortable "with their own", those who share their backgrounds and political beliefs. A considerable number are acutely uncomfortable in "mixed company". But many are also unwilling to admit their discomfort. The world's gaze is too mocking.
Polls repeatedly suggest a majority of parents would prefer integration. Yet 22 years on from the establishment of the pioneering Lagan College, a bare 5 per cent of pupils are in integrated schools. When it comes to choosing schools, many who say they favour integration opt for the two major sections, the effectively segregated mainstream. Some have no real choice because integrated schools are not available near them.
For others the choice of integration requires more effort than they think a relatively new educational sector may be worth.
As a parent who helped start one of the first primary schools I must declare an interest. Writing an account of the sector recently* meant making an effort to cast a cool eye on the pieties of advocates, the genuineness of the integrated experience for pupils and teachers, the covert opposition of those who claim they only oppose duplication in education provision, in schools.
Sending children to the primary school beside the chapel is automatic for many Catholics, a communal rite requiring no family discussion, no real decision. In largely segregated Northern Ireland, most mainstream schools are in places which are almost completely Protestant or Catholic. Children come to school with the kids from next-door.
It is very different from the choice of an integrated school at a distance, which will mean putting a child on a bus or driving. Meeting school friends out of school will also mean parental effort. But the principal deterrent is often inside the wider family, or among friends.
A Protestant parent in a group setting up one school told me she had to negotiate every step with her partner. He agreed their child should attend but kept his own distance: "He can handle the family and the mates as long as he isn't down there himself."
A Catholic father was trying to find the moment to tell his parents their first grandchild would be going to the new local integrated primary. "They'll be destroyed - or they'll say they are. It'll be a child lost to the faith in their books."
The school holidays are almost over. It has been the quietest summer on the streets that anyone can remember. But a man was shot dead in Belfast last Sunday, apparently by dissident republicans. Ulster Unionism looks set for another month of internal power games. With political movement frozen, no wonder some cast around for alternatives. Parent groups are working to open five more integrated schools, primaries in Ballycastle, Limavady, Ballynahinch, Cookstown, and a secondary college in Armagh. Better to light a candle than curse the fading sunlight.
• A Shared Childhood, The story of the integrated schools in Northern Ireland by Fionnuala O Connor is published by Blackstaff Press.