My Leaving Cert: Goodbye secondary school, hello fast-changing world

When I think of college, at times I am terrified, but life is what happens when you step out of your comfort zone

As the months flash by, I pray in vain that time would just stand still, if only for a few moments. I overhear many of my classmates complaining, constantly wishing this year will come to an end so we can finally wave goodbye to secondary school.

For some this is a general distaste for school life; others are caught up in the stress of final-year exams and college places. Of course, I live for the day that the Leaving Cert is over.

However, I feel we are at a crossroads in our lives. Once we make that turn, there is no going back. Our lives will change forever as we all go our separate ways. The last six years of our lives as students will be little more than fond memories.

For more than half a decade I have known that most days I would get up, put on the same uniform and go to the same classes. Everything seems so permanent and yet I know it isn’t.

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When I think of college next year, at times I am terrified to think of starting all over on my own, possibly without the friends I have gained here and pray that I keep for life. However, I know life is what happens when you step out of your comfort zone, and when the time comes I will rise to the challenge.

On the flip side, our lives offer a liberating uncertainty. We are young adults who have yet to experience what the real world has to offer. None of our destinies is set in stone. Our futures lie in our hands.

Fortune tellers

I can’t remember who, but I once heard a wise person speak of how often people wish to know the future. Who will I marry? Will I ever land my dream job? Will I get my happily-ever-after? Eventually, we will know. Once we find out, we will know forever.

Instead of wishing our lives away, we should appreciate the moment we are in and rejoice in the uncertainty. After all, in this one moment of time, you are the oldest you have ever been and the youngest you will ever be again.

I will miss my life as a student. The nagging for homework from teachers will disappear. But so too will the care and dedication they have given over the years and that I appreciate immensely. I feel blessed to have had such great teachers to whom I owe so much, such as Adrienne Gill, who has nurtured and developed my love for English. Many of us who go on to further studies will be met by lecturers teaching in enormous halls. With the sheer volume of students, lecturers might fail to learn your name and will be indifferent to you missing work.

Right now, subjects are varied in a way I will miss. Next year, as I hope to focus on science, I will sorely miss the opportunity to dissect a heart, discuss the poetry of Plath, learn a foreign language and discuss my personal thoughts and feelings in essays, all in a single day.

I will miss my circle of friends. Throughout the last few years they have been a constant source of support. I know change is inevitable. New lifestyles and commitments may get in the way. When we get together it will be on special occasions, ones that may need to be organised months in advance to fit hectic schedules.

An elderly gentleman told me of the dreams he once had at my age: some of which he achieved, others he had to let go of “as life got in the way”. It is easy to forget this. One day we might be like them, reminiscing fondly of the days when we had our whole lives ahead of us. For now, our dreams are still firmly intact.

To quote one of my favourite authors, Stephen Chbosky: "I know that these will all be stories some day and our pictures will become old photographs. We'll all become someone's Mom or Dad. But right now, these moments are not stories. This is happening."

As I recount who I was when I left primary school, I feel as though it is almost a distant memory. I was someone the current me does not recognise. I will miss the person that I am in this moment of time. To quote CS Lewis: “Isn’t it funny how day by day nothing changes, but when you look back, everything is different.”

  • Connor Griffin is a Leaving Certificate student at Scoil Dara, Kilkock, Co Kildare