Seven down and one to go - the trials and tribulations of a Leaving Cert mother

IN MOMENTS of stress before examinations I have always trotted out the following quotation: "Examinations are formidable even…

IN MOMENTS of stress before examinations I have always trotted out the following quotation: "Examinations are formidable even to the best prepared, for the greatest fool may ask more than the wisest man can answer". Whether it ever gave any consolation to any of my children, I don't know, but it made me feel better.

I suppose it was meant to make the children I considered inadequately prepared feel that failure was not the end of the world, and for the ones who thought it was "no problem", it was meant as a warning. With seven Leaving Certs behind me and one to go, I have my fair share of angst behind me, at least as far as examinations are concerned.

But I am ashamed to say, that as the years go by, the significance of passing State exams seems to matter less in the great scheme of things.

My stock in trade of "it doesn't matter, just do your best", followed by a list of people who became millionaires, film stars, successful sports men or women without any (or little) formal education usually earned the retort: "Well it's not YOUR life, it's MY life"

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In the beginning, when my first son did his Leaving, I was distracted with worry for him. It was cups of tea, radios turned down, pals forbidden to knock on the door and it was "stay out in the garden" for the rest of the children.

Mind you, this only started about three weeks before the exam, as I am a great believer in "the lucky question", ie, the one you do the night before the exam is the one that comes up on the paper, so I put all my efforts into the final furlong.

I even remember taking the other five down to Dollymount strand in Dublin and sitting for hours huddled in a gale so that the "student" could have peace and quiet. This strategy I maintained for the next two examinees. Of these, one went into her room two weeks before the exams, sat on the bed surrounded by books and never emerged AT ALL. The other lived in a constant state of panic which no amount of reassurance could assuage and it was an endurance test for everybody.

When it came to the fourth, I am afraid, I fell to pieces. My eldest daughter got married two weeks before the Leaving, and with the added burden of being a bridesmaid, I don't know how number four coped. I still have memories of crying every time I looked at the prospective bride, who seemed fair too young to be taking on the responsibilities of marriage.

The house was full of wedding presents and the door bell never stopped ringing. I have no memory of the exams and still feel guilty at my lack of parental concern. But number four did very well and is now happily settled in Australia.

Number five was the one who had the grinds. I spent a fortune, in the belief that paying for a teacher to come to the house once a week would work miracles. On mature reflection, I think the results would have been the same, and at least there was no high drama, just laid back cool.

When it came to number six, she left home. Every evening she went to her godmother's quiet house. Her godmother was a widow with no children who brought her in chocolate biscuits and tea at regular intervals.

Number seven I consider my greatest triumph. At Christmas the report was so bad that I resorted to bribery, all my foolish quotations and homespun philosophies went out the window and I had a temper tantrum. Thankfully it worked.

As the mother of them all, I am proud to say that of the seven there was never a failure and never a repeat. Mind you I still have number eight coming up.

Exam stress is a serious matter for parents as well as students - and unfortunately, the parental version can exacerbate the anguish of candidates. Frances O'Rourke finds the best, most difficult advice to follow back off!