Bernard O'Shea: These are the 10 tips ChatGPT gave me to pass the Leaving Cert
Bernard O'Shea features coffee student exhaustion studying
I stayed behind after school for three hours every evening for two years in supervised study. But (I hope my Mother doesn't see this) I spent most of the time in the music room playing the guitar with my friends and trying to convince myself I would be the next Noel Gallagher.
All I remember is spending the money my Mother gave me to buy the mock exam papers on a Supergrass and Pulp album. The teachers constantly went over the type of questions we would be asked. Still, I was confident that for every exam, there would be an opt-out section that asked questions like "If you don't know how to answer any of the questions, just draw a meaningless doodle, and we will interpret it as an answer."
I thought this was a trap. I remember everyone saying that Yeats would come up on the English paper. But I knew better, so I studied Keats. Yeats came up. I remember answering the question with, "Yeats's poetry was at times very similar to Keats" I'm sure the examiner got a kick out of that one.
Oh, how many times did my teachers drum this into us! But still, I wouldn't listen and would cram every night during the exams. I remember thinking 'Surely two or three hours is enough to cover the syllabus?'. It was a tradition I resurrected at the third level and even into adulthood.
I remember being so tired of studying for my French exam that I swallowed raw coffee. I have no idea what I wrote down in that exam, but I passed. All I know is that I can't stand the stuff today, and every time I see those little packets of instant coffee on trains, I dry retch.

I had two tutors who tried their very best to squeeze maths into my big thick head. I just couldn't get to grips with numbers at all, and when they introduced 'x' and 'y' into the equation, I was utterly lost. To this day, I am still trying to determine how I got a D3 in the pass paper.
See my response to tip number four.
This would only happen if the dog spoke French or the cows in the field next door magically started to talk in fluent Irish.
I've made two cups of tea and watched a YouTube video on artisan cheese making while I was trying to complete this article. I had access to my own internet domain, my delusional brain. I liked and still love to daydream. But 25 years ago, I was a master at it. Walter Mitty had nothing on me.
Now a quarter of a century later, I can honestly say that I was an idiot with little to no self-realisation of my strengths or weaknesses and not much has changed. With hindsight, I'm entirely grateful for my parents, who didn't mind if I did well or not, just as long as I was happy. This is a perspective that I will most definitely practice when it comes to my own children.

