What is the Leaving Cert all about?
It can be bewildering this time of year. There are reams of newsprint to wade through, hours of radio, minutes of snippets of news reports on the television. The Leaving Cert media cycle is a lot of work, so in case you don’t have time, this is all of it condensed into a small area. There are a few broad categories of item.
Reminiscing: People say that the Leaving Cert doesn’t prepare you for real life, that it doesn’t develop the skills that are really needed, that it is merely an obstruction along the path linking you and your dreams about the future. I say nonsense. The Leaving Cert is a great way to follow your dreams, particularly if your dream is to appear on the media every June talking about what it was like in your day. It’s usually a businessman who got 7 points (in old money) and is now worth millions. “You don’t need a piece of paper to prove your worth or ability. You just need a father who’s already in business to give you a start.”
Advice grip: There will be a lot of advice over the next few days. Some well-meaning experts will imply that by this stage your study should be done and the emphasis now should be on getting plenty of rest. This may be the right advice in the ideal world but actually you should be spending your time on Snapchat speculating with friends on which poet is coming up and based on their opinions, go hell for leather on that one.
The postmortem: If you do have a bit of time as a student to relax before the exam, why not use that band-width to prepare your post-mortem quote. The media will be looking for quotes and this is your chance to shine. Don’t mess it up with “So basically like, it was, I dunno, like, ok I guess.” That’s what everyone will say. In order to stand out, prepare something that may make you the voice of a generation: “Nothing surprised me about Irish Paper 2. It’s just another example of the neo-liberal consensus that seeks to divide society and prevent people from seeing what’s really happening: The ransacking of public services by the military industrial complex.”
The multi-barrelled exam diary: Someone with a name like Emily Fitzhenry-DeCourcey-O’Flanagan may write a column in the Irish Times chronicling her experiences. It will start with “Here it comes – the Day of Judgement. I sit down and my hands sweat as each sentence I write will decide the course of my life”. Aspiring writers of all ages (including me, from age 16 to now) will be consumed with jealousy about “how did she get that gig? It must have been pull. I would have done a much better one.”
Heartbroken students and “It’s a disgrace Joe: At some point there will be a surprise. Students and teachers who had been given to believe a particular poet/letter to French penpal/differential equation/geographic feature/1930s dictator will come up will be astounded to see that the other poet/letter to hotel/Newtons law of cooling/Sweden’s industries/Korean war came up instead.
The cruel nature of the news cycle: The media is an unforgiving, heartless machine. At the start of the exams, double page spreads, photographs, analysis and reaction will give students comfort that their experiences are being shared with the world. “English, Maths, Irish? Don’t worry students, we’re all in this together.” But as time goes on, the Leaving Cert will slip down the priorities list and those studying Hebrew, Bulgarian and Applied Maths will finish up the most important test of their young lives so far in stony silence. Just a janitor sweeping the floors.
It’s the best preparation for real life they could get.





