Exam Diary Séamus Conboy, Scoil Caitríona All work and a Shakespeare play. Not a bad start for old Séamus - I think I comported myself with style on the first day of the Leaving.
I left the house feeling ill at ease, not least because my father was heading off to take part in a valuation tribunal, which seemed to be causing him a measure of indigestion. When I arrived at the school and was offered Holy Communion, I thought, I'll take inspiration in any guise.
Sitting down to Paper 1 in English, I did what all the pundits advised, and read the paper thoroughly first. I was pleased to note a thematic pattern - work and play. Now, I know a thing or two about play, so I felt quite at home on the topic. I was drawn to Question 3 of the comprehension section because of its intelligent engagement with issues that affect young people today, and not because it opened with a shot of a doe-eyed Cameron Diaz.
Moving on the essay question I chose, yet again, to examine the importance of leisure in our lives and rose to a stunning crescendo with the following quote from Robert Frost: "The ten minutes a boy cherishes so much when spared from work." Sadly, an even more literate friend has informed me that Frost said no such thing. Perhaps I heard it on the Simpsons.
After a light lunch and an ill-advised spot of post-mortemising, I returned to Paper 2 with a heavy feeling in my stomach. I turned straight to the back page where the dreaded Kavanagh was lying in wait for me, just as I feared. Luckily, he was accompanied by an altogether less menacing Derek Mahon. My sigh of relief echoed around the exam hall like El Niño. I took the question on with relish, enjoying the one aspect of the Leaving Certificate English syllabus that I will carry with me into the next chapter of my life.
After getting through the poetry, the rest of Paper 2 was academic (well, obviously). Macbeth was a dream, every quote recalled, every character brought to life and, I believe, each question admirably dispatched.
My unexpected Waterloo arrived with Comparative Literature, for which I produced a garbled and unstructured piece of work which will have the corrector in tangles of despair. Well, that's his problem now, not mine. I am rapidly forgetting everything I ever knew about English literature.
I emerged from the hall to find RTÉ in the school yard, looking for comments. I skulked out the back way. I'm saving my material for my loyal readers. I'm at the centre of a media storm!
Tonight I will attempt to get an early night after a clammy, restless two hours of imagining the worst last night. I finally dropped off at about 12.30 a.m. and was woken half an hour later by a well-wisher's text. I'm sure all the talk of planning appeals and architectural dimensions around the dinner table will have the necessary sedative effect.
Today I take on Maths Paper 1, my favourite paper, and Irish Paper 1, for which I should be well prepared after six years at a Gaelscoil. I'm not exactly heartbroken at leaving the English syllabus behind, although I will return to Derek Mahon at some point, especially my favourite poem, After the Titanic.
The rest of my English notes are already in the recycle bin. I hope Plath and Kavanagh are reincarnated into something less tortuous. Like a tribunal report.
• Séamus Conboy is a student at Scoil Caitríona, Glasnevin, Dublin
