It all seems so long ago now. It's hard to believe that it was just over seven weeks ago that I walked out of the exam hall after applied maths, the last mile of the Leaving Cert marathon. Hard to believe it's so long since my daily breakfast consisted of fig rolls eaten during Paper One.
Was it really only June when I could recite physics definitions by rote? Six years of coursework seem to have been forgotten in six weeks. Of course, some things stay with you forever. I cannot listen to Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody on the radio without remembering the weeks spent dissecting it in class.
I also feel that I will never be able to discard the carefully rehearsed German answers: "I have no opinion about that matter"; "Yes, that's an interesting concept, but there's no easy answer". But I must move on. The world of work awaits.
We spend six years in school. Then, for three months, we are released into the wild world, before reentering the college cocoon.
To my horror, my summer job meant having to wear a tie - a real one, not just a school tie! After learning to cope with that drastic adjustment, however, I settled into working for a TV and hi-fi shop in Bray, Co Wicklow, the town where I went to school for so long. (Some places just seem to grow on you.)
There are just five other people working there, and they've all been really good to me, even when I made the same mistake three times in a row. (If I write nice things, I get to keep my job!). Quite a few people from my class are working in the catering and retail industries, with one guy even working in a schoolbook shop! Thankfully, the rates of pay have been reasonable, as far as I know; the sheer amount of jobs available means that employers are forced to pay decent wages, enough to keep any student going through the bleak months of winter.
But maybe thoughts of college are a little premature; I haven't got there yet. On the other hand, I'm not going back to secondary school, so come what may, I will be doing something new this term. What that something consists of is now entirely in the lap of the CAO computer.
It's tempting to think of that same computer as resembling Douglas Adams' "Deep Thought", the cranky computer in The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.
However, the computer is only the final step: the live, human correctors have my fate in their hands. Maybe I should say "had", as by now the papers have been corrected, collated and checked many times over (I hope!). To be honest, there's very little that any of us students can do now - except hope.
Every year, The Irish Times details the escapades of delirious Leaving Cert students as they paint Dublin red. So what will I be doing? I'll be collecting my results in the social capital of the modern world - the Burren in Co Clare.
I suppose the results will come no matter where you are on the day, but there might be that extra little bit of security in being hundreds of miles from my former teachers. (In a delightful bit of irony, my principal will ring me in Clare, his home county, from Wicklow, my home county. Strange but true.)
If he refuses to talk to me, I'll rely on the new automated telephone system. The voicemail menu comes to mind: "If you wish to appeal, please press 1. If you would like to scream, please press 2. If you've won the Lotto and don't care anymore, please hold". I hope that it doesn't turn out like the Eurovision voting: "Thank you for calling. All lines are busy at present. Please try again next June."
Well, well, well. Isn't it nice to be so light-hearted! Or should that be light-headed? Exams, and the results thereof, do strange things to people. Most of you reading this passage today probably waited for some kind of result in the past. I'll bet you enjoyed it too!
Bring on the results. I'm ready for them. (I think I am.)
