We like stupid jokes in this house. Dad jokes. They get far too much laughter considering the quality of the joke.
And the inevitable bad delivery.
But they have been a very important mood-breaker over the past few weeks. No matter how cool and unfazed a teenager normally is, the Leaving Cert is an intimidating beast – a shadow keeping thousands of students in the shade even on the sunniest of June days.
Brief moments of light relief are valuable, even if it’s just temporary.
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Dropping my Junior and Leaving Cert girls (yes, we had both this year!) at their local school on the first day of this month’s state exams, it was noticeable how many students looked terrified on their way to English paper one – nervous, frail, sick looking.
Including my own.
- “Best of luck today, girls. Remember to avoid cliches like the plague.”
Two sets of eyes roll.
- “Ugh, goodbye.”
I’m surprised by how recognisable the State examinations are. The curriculum may have changed over the decades, but the Irish education system still evaluates students by piling enormous pressure on their young shoulders and then seeing how much they can cram on to a page – on subjects that may have nothing to do with the career they hope to pursue.
The Leaving Cert English exams are six hours, 10 minutes, total. Like most of the exams, it’s a race, rewarding students good at rote learning with fast handwriting.
Also, just like in my day, the first few days of exams fly by.
- “What’s tomorrow?”
- “Maths paper one.”
- “Can I help? I’ll ask you questions and give you 15 cents for every maths question you get right. You could earn up to 40 cents!”
- “Mom! Tell him to go away.”
After just one week, the Junior Cert girl is finished. Nine exams in six days.
Her older sister still had three exams, and more than a week and a half, to go.
Neighbours and friends told them it was great to get the exams over and dusted with quickly, and also it was handy they were spread out so much, depending on which girl they talked to.
Regardless, both felt the immense strain. Parents may understand how, sometimes, you don’t realise how sick a child was until they recover.
As parents, we felt our main job over the month was not to add to the stress.
That’s it. Wake them, feed them, tolerate whatever it is you would normally not tolerate – such as coffee mugs left in random places throughout the house.
Apart from jokes, I am also armed with really helpful words of encouragement.
- “The only time success comes before work is in the dictionary you know.”
- “Please, please, go away.”
An Irish friend living abroad messaged this week to ask how the Leaving Cert was going. She mentioned her child was doing the equivalent of the Leaving Cert. They get their results one week after the exams finish.
Here, of course, it will be more than two months before students get the results. The points that decide if they secure the third-level spot they want. Or, maybe, the education system can make them wait even longer to find out which direction their life is going to take.
It’s cruel and unusual punishment.
Luckily, the entire country reacts to someone doing the Leaving like a nationwide self-help group. We all know the pain. And sympathise.
In the meantime, in this house, we’re all still doing the Leaving Certificate. Everyone that has a family member doing the exams is also doing it.
- “That a physics book?”
- “Ya.”
- “I was wondering what the matter was.”
Sometimes, however much they try not to, they can’t help but laugh.
