The Leaving Certificate starts this week in Ireland. The one time Ireland is assured of good weather, exam time. For those who have not endured the joy of the Irish education system, the leaving certificate is the series of exams that end life in secondary school, for those University bound, performance at these exams is vital for entry to university, for others, it’s a royal pain in the arse. A minimum of six subjects are required and the core of Irish, English and Maths are compulsory, more on that later. 

I hated every minute of school. That’s the first thing that I should say before going any further. Each morning I was dropped at Bishopstown Community School and had to walk the steep hill to the building that would have looked more appropriate as a series of war-time bunkers. In Ireland we didn’t have things like home rooms etc, you were either in a classroom or you were in the corridor… there was nothing in the white corridors other than lines of lockers. 

From the first day I walked in I felt the place didn’t fit me. I didn’t really care, I think from a young age I was pretty comfortable with my own company and looking at the wee cliques that formed, well I was very glad not to be party to that. It was quite funny really… four girls always took seats in the front row, with one who would pipe up every now and again with “that’s cruuuueel”, whenever an opportunity presented itself. Then there were the kids who came from a rural primary school (actually close to where I lived) who looked down at everyone all the time, whispering amongst themselves with their McWilliams sails bags and Dubarry shoes, though none of them had ever set one of those ridiculously expensive shoes on a boat. 

I was done with the whole circus by the time we made it to the final year. At this point, I’d been working for years and so had a bit of money coming in each week…I basically had my own bit of independence. Just as well, as I didn’t get any support from home the way the other kids seemed to. No grinds for me, no parents pushing me to “reach my dreams”, my whole time in secondary school no one ever asked me what my dreams were, jeez. We had none of that in my house. It was just expected that I would do well enough to go to University, in honesty I was slightly jealous of the kids who did get all this support but at the same time I was going out to night clubs with the people I worked with at the weekend (I was still underage). In truth, I was in survival mode.

I had no interest in the vast majority of subjects that we were doing for the Leaving Certificate, actually, maybe that’s not entirely true. I think it had more to do with the teachers. Now don’t forget, this was an Irish education, from Irish teachers who had been educated in Ireland, lived their lives in Ireland and really, didn’t have a huge view of life outside of Cork. Harsh I know but bear with me.  

English. I had the same teacher from first year through to sixth. There was a glimmer of hope that we would have had a different option after 4th year, but no, 😦 that didn’t happen. She had her favourites in class and I was certainly not one of them, they would read their answers to exam questions or be quoted in class, I was in todays terms “ghosted” most of the time. On one occasion, we were receiving papers back from our leaving certificate mock exam. Now for once, I felt that I’d written a pretty good essay and I was expecting a mention at least. Each of us was called up to the front to receive our papers and the 40-minute class came to a close with the bell and my paper was still to be returned. As everyone made their way to their next class I approached her desk still full of hope for a good result. My essay took the topic of growth and development and I referenced my experience of travelling to other countries where athletes were treated differently, especially in minority sports. It was then that I saw the huge red marks and comments. I was broken. The conversation that followed finished with, and this a quote that remains with me to this day, “you need to step up or you will never amount to anything”. Welcome to the wonderful Irish education system. 

The only place where I felt remotely happy in Secondary School was in the Engineering lab. Here I was able to be myself and I loved every minute, the challenges we were set and the teacher was amazing. We had a number of parts to our exam one of which was a 6 hour practical test where we had to manufacture a piece that we would only see on the day. The day in question I was ridiculously nervous. By the time the door opened and I took my place at my bench I was shaking and couldn’t breathe. Our teacher introduced the rules of the day and we were left to review the design plans. It was then we heard that our teacher was not allowed to remain in the room, but there was an invigilator who would sit in on proceedings. Turns out, she was a temporary sewing or home economics teacher and she had no idea what a pillar drill was as opposed to a lathe. Which meant, she had no idea as to which equipment we were allowed to use and which not. Our year was quite studious and we all finished over 90 minutes early 🙂

In the months before the final exams I knew I was screwed, there was no continuous assessment back then, just the exams.  My only shot at passing was to hack the system. If you wanted to know about the questions that appeared on a paper for the 10 or so years previously, I had a wonderful grid that displayed everything. I was betting that this was going to be a Yeats year. Each English literature paper featured an Irish poets section and we were due Yeats. I dumped all other poets and all I studied was Yeats, no Shakespeare, in fact I pretty much only studied about 5% of the course. In the same breath, some Catholic group took umbrage at a load of the Irish literature pieces and so I dumped them also. My stakes were ridiculously high and my stress levels huge, but I figured, work hard or work smart.

You have never seen a happier person when Yeats showed up. 

Like clockwork, the sun came as soon as we started our exams, all tucked up in the sports hall, roasting. Engineering was the last exam and so for the entire month, I saw people finish and move on. Towards the end of this month, I saw an advert for a new bar in Cork looking for staff. The last Thursday in June I took my engineering exam and on Friday I started a new job. I had finally left the school where lockers were searched by the guards and a few pregnancies were normal in a year. I did try and keep in contact with some folk, I went the extra mile for one such friend who was looking for a new job and wanted to use my recruitment network. She emailed me the day of the interview to say she was not going to attend (about an hour before the interview) I’d convinced the hiring manager to take the meeting as her CV was light for the role. Never work with friends or family… I get it now. 

I haven’t actually thought about the Leaving Certificate in many years, so many better experiences have occurred since then, but I had to supply a copy of my results when I applied for my Master’s course in Austria. I’ve no idea why, and it took me ages to convince them that, no the school didn’t provide my results, it came from a centralised government department. Ringing the “Coimisiun Na Scruduithe Stait”, (State Examinations Commission) to get a copy of my results brought it all back through. The lovely lady told me it would take 6 weeks to send my results to me…

I have a nightmare from time to time about being back in that school. Luckily University was a much more welcoming environment and it was there that I found my classmates and lecturers that actually encouraged exploration outside of the Cork city walls. :)))  Now don’t get me wrong, if someone wants to build a life and that is what makes them happy I’m all for that, go do it. I knew from a very early age that Ireland was not going to be my home forever and as soon as I had the means I left. My secondary school experience, horrid as it was, has made me the person I am today, I am independent, focused, and despite what my English teacher said to me, I’d consider myself a wee bit successful.

What I will say though, in finishing, my experience in secondary school put me off doing my Master’s for many years and that, I really regret. The people I met during that course, the friends I’ve made, from all over the world and from every background inspire me to this day. I hope that things have changed in Ireland for the better!