WordSmith: The Leaving Certificate past, and present...
Leaving Certificate time brings me back to school. The prologue to my second memoir, which I’m writing starts thus – ‘My head pounds whilst my peers buzz around me, out of their minds on post exam highs. My school days are over and instead of feeling free, I fret. My final exam, Geography, hasn’t gone well; I fear I’ve failed and I desperately need its pass to secure my place at Dublin’s National College of Art and Design. An interminable summer of waiting lies ahead. I manage to navigate my way through a swaying throng of serotonin heads and onto the road for home; my disappointment unnoticed by my peers.’
I’ll come back to that result, later. Now, I look at the students studying for their Leaving Cert and I’m struck by how assured they seem. During my exams, I was far from confident. I was motivated by fear. Fear that was compounded ten-fold when I landed a place at the coveted NCAD. I’d been judged to have the requisite creative talent by an esteemed panel of Ireland’s arty elite. Yet, I feared my inability to retain and recall information to fulfil their academic criteria would let me down.
Last week, I was talking with a student friend who was exultant after her first English-exam. When she showed me the Higher-English paper I pondered how I would’ve performed better in today’s Leaving Cert, than I did in mine. The paper had three texts: Two newspaper columns from prominent journalists, and one extract from a booker-nominated novel. The student had to select one, then answer questions on said text. What appealed to me was, it’s an exam you couldn’t study for, given you don’t know what’s coming up. The student is marked on their understanding of the text and subsequent critical-thinking under time pressure. I know I’d have performed well in this type of exam.
In my summer of geographical dread I spun in a vortex of despair. On nights out with friends, geography questions looped through my head. When hindsight answered them correctly, I’d sneak away from the reverie; tortured by a potential incoming fail and loss of my college place.
When I saw this year’s Geography Paper; perusing the questions brought back the dread, I shuddered. Though today, there’s a project component, “I put my heart and soul into that project,” said my friend. The project is assessed prior to the exam and added to your final mark; this would have helped me. In short, I believe I would’ve performed better in today’s Leaving Cert than that of its 80s' counterpart.
On the morning of my results, I walked to school. Ironically, I was fairly sure of a pass with my arch-enemy, maths. It was geography, a subject I’d been confident in, that threatened to be my nemesis. I moved slowly towards The Tech, holding tight to the modicum of hope that sustained me over the summer.
Climbing the hill to school I heard whoops from jubilant students. Their cheers pushed me on to get my own fate over with. Turning into the mall a girl rushed by, rejoicing defiantly, “I failed and don’t give a f**k!”
Her faux delight in failure made me wince – I continued onto the envelope that contained my future.
Today, students can receive their results from their pockets, via their phones. I would’ve appreciated the privacy of receiving my results, this way.
With the un-opened envelope in my pocket, I ran, chased by a wave of nausea. In the slither of woodland that remained from the school’s build; my tremoring hands opened the envelope. My eyes darted to the word: Geography. A voice inside me screamed – “LOSER!” I’d failed!
I’d lost my college place. Lost my future. Let myself down. Let my family down. Let the school down. I was inconsolable.
When I picked myself up from the debilitating-disappointment, Mam suggested I ring the college faculty and ask if I could take my place on the proviso I re-sit Geography. Reluctantly, I phoned.
A few weeks later, a miracle arrived by post – college agreed to Mam’s suggestion. I had the time of my life at Art College.
That summer taught me disappointment is but a dark detour. Pick yourself up and carry on, there’s always another way, another chance.
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