EXAM DIARY:Maths crept up with the cold calculation of a killer while geography had its own twists and turns, writes JESSICA LEEN

DOES THIS sound familiar?

“Sure I’ll drop down to pass maths. It’ll be a walk in the park. I’ll be free to concentrate on the important things, the subjects I like. The subjects I need for college.”

I don’t think I’m the only one who underestimated pass maths. But maths is a clever customer, which is why mathematicians wear glasses.

Well they should wear rubber vests as well because maths will sneak up behind you and stab you in the back.

You’ve probably gathered that I didn’t enjoy yesterday’s maths paper.

I think the main problem was that the paper afforded me no opportunity to twitter on about writing bootiful toons or to use words like ‘buccaneering’. You have to give a straight answer. That’s just not civilised.

Speaking of twittering, what's with all these leaky superintendents? Ours are the soul of discretion. They never tweet, poke, google or any of those words that you won't find in my Dad's Oxford Dictionary.

Oh hang on, I think I saw one wearing 'guyliner' this morning. I won't mention it if you don't. Other newspapers might take pleasure in ratting out the exam footsoldiers but we don't do that at The Irish Times.

So geography, then. Not without its twists and turns. Overall though, it all went according to plan. I liked geography and I’ll miss it a bit, but the old field trip kind of took the romance out of it for me. I’m an earthquakes and volcanoes kind of gal. I like planets and tectonic plates – the biblical end of geography. That day on the beach in Ballycotton didn’t quite do it. I got my 25 per cent looking at caves and waves but how can I put it? The earth didn’t move for me.

The geography departments of Ireland are safe.

So tonight, I might take an hour off to watch Mock the Weekand attend to the emotional needs of my poor cat, Phoebe.

Since I stopped playing the guitar and keeping a warm space for her on the bed she’s been throwing me some pretty Machiavellian looks. She wants my room, I’m sure of it. I will soon be superfluous to her needs if I don’t give her some Jess time on the couch tonight.

My sister, currently sitting her Junior Cert, has been reduced to one word: “grand”.

I think I may need to massage that relationship as well, see if I can’t coax an OMG out of her before the weekend is out.

Personal relationships are important you know. I’ll still need someone to torment and borrow money off when the exams are over.

Now that the dream sequence of the first few days of the Leaving is subsiding and I’m starting to get some perspective. I feel like I can comment dispassionately on this whole business.

Looking back on all we have learned, all we have been fed and smothered with for the last six years, what’s left? Every time I click my four-sided novelty pen back into neutral I leave all that I have written that day behind for good. A biome. Pythagoras.

The words of King Lear’s fool; “Thou hadst little wit in thy bald crown when thou gavst thy golden one away.”

As we hang up our thinking caps next week, will there be much left behind in our heads? Are we going to measure out the next steps of our lives using algebra? (You don’t measure using algebra, you dingbat – I SO failed maths.)

Jessica Leen is a student at Christ King Secondary School, Cork