OPINION: I’d love to do the Leaving again

THE Leaving Cert is almost upon us. That monolithic set of exams where rote learning is key to success. The antiquated system of selection, for the most part, pays no heed to the performance of the student over the past six year and lumps all their hopes and dreams into one single sitting where the words and numbers written on a page will define their immediate future.
Will they go to Queens, UCD or UL? Will Galway be an option? Maybe Sligo might be considered? What did they write on their CAO form? What course choice did they indicate when filling out their preferences?
These and many more questions will be answered in the coming weeks and months. The Leaving Cert is an awful way to assess a student’s knowledge. It’s a snapshot – a moment – a split-second on which everything hinges. It’s okay for most students, not so good for a tiny minority. It was a glorious get-out-of-jail card for me.
My school life was interesting to say the least. I wasted every opportunity to learn; I destroyed all options to be the best I could be and instead concentrated on leaba, ladies and lovely football. 
It’s hard to believe in this day and age, but back in the ’80s things were different, and I never completed ten consecutive days in secondary school. I dodged it, faked sickness, picked up imaginary ‘crippling’ injuries playing sport and came up with every trick in the book to avoid school.
In my senior cycle, I never went to school on days when English poetry was a major learning point because I didn’t have that famed English poetry book ‘Soundings’.
Every Thursday Fr Kevin Hegarty, Josephine Gaughan or whatever poor soul was trying to teach us, would look to instil some understanding of Kavanagh, Chauser or Shelley. Instead of going to the book-swap in the school and acquiring a copy pf ‘Soundings’,  I stayed quiet and decided it was better to avoid the entire day so that the absence of my poetry book would not become apparent.
Interestingly, I never missed a Thursday if we were scheduled to play football. I would be up with the lark, bound out the boreen to wait along the road for Charlie Healy to come along in the big yellow school bus. 
However, this ploy famously backfired one day when the game we were so looking forward to was called off just before Henry Gaughan’s van left Our Lady’s packed to the axel with testosterone-filled Erris teens with football on their minds. Crushingly, the news that the pitch in Crossmolina was unplayable came through in time to prevent our journey and we weren’t happy. Personally, I was devastated. Instead of heading off with the lads, having the craic and playing football swathed in the yellow and maroon of Our Lady’s we had to head back to class.
The grief for what-might-have-been was acute as I made my way slowly to the my Leaving Cert classroom in the area of the school, which at that time was called Chroí Naofa (but we all called it ‘Cream Aoife’).
Of course, I survived the rigours of English that day and would have survived and thrived every Thursday if only I had the cop-on to go to school, but emotional intelligence wasn’t my strong point at that time.
Of course, age brings wisdom, and if I had life to live again I would soak up information and grasp every opportunity to learn and develop. The acquisition of knowledge is a joy and should be cherished. It’s less than two generations ago since a percentage of students might not bother with secondary school education at all. A number of my contemporaries chose routes in life which five or six years in secondary school wasn’t priority.
We all follow different paths, we all have different priorities and there’s nothing wrong with that, but If I was given the gift of being 17 or 18 again I would be immersed in learning and preparations for exams. 
However, there is only one lap in this race of life and all I can do is say ‘don’t be like me’. Take every chance presented, take every opportunity to be the best one can be, don’t be afraid to try, don’t be afraid to fail. 
The Leaving Cert might not be the perfect solution to knowledge assessment, but it’s the best we have right now, so go for it, give it everything and let fate take care of the rest.