Leaving childhood behind
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MummyBloggers
As I write, the Leaving Certer is delightedly chucking stacks of English notes into the recycling bin, and by June 15th, I will have to make a special trip to the dump to dispose of the remains of 13 years of schooling. After just two papers, however, he has already announced that he is “bored with exams”.
Boredom, fear, exhaustion, worry, relief, panic— these are just some of the afflictions that accompany exams, usually in quick succession, and sometimes at the same time, but this trampoline of emotions is something we have all had to bounce on at different stages of our lives.
I'm not belittling the significance of the Leaving Cert; on the contrary, I think it is one of the defining experiences in most Irish people's lives, and one that I still dream about occasionally (I usually wake up in a sweat because I've arrived into the French exam wearing wellies— and I've never even studied French), but I don't remember being carefully transported through the process by my parents.
My mother's approach to my Leaving Cert was to feed me massive dinners and endless snacks, while my father would drop me to the exams with brief but heartfelt reassurances that I would do fine. That was it. I've just read an article in which parents are advised to ensure that their son or daughter is present for each exam. Seriously.
If all goes according to plan, most of these students will be leaving Mammy and Daddy behind in the autumn and heading to institutes of education that make their post-primary schools look like baby infants' class. Engulfed by a tidal wave of new places, people, and experiences, they will wobble a little at first. They will find things scary, strange, new and wonderful. They will marvel at how easy their parents made cooking look. They will learn how to live on noodles and tuna so that they have money left for pints. The point is, they will survive.
That said, if checking the contents of your Leaving Cert's lunchbox for nutritional balance or driving to the shop at 10pm to stock up on Bic pens means you can perpetuate the illusion that he is still your baby, I'm all for it.
Now, time to make cocoa and run his bath...
Aoife O'Carroll is a separated mum living in Co Kerry with her two boys aged 17 and 14, and a girl aged 10.
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