As Brian turned to leave there was little evidence that his burdens were any lighter. The pressure of juggling seven higher level subjects over the coming weeks was getting to him – at exactly the wrong time. Classes for Leaving Certificate students end too far in advance of the exams for Brian’s liking, and he fears the time learning independently at home. I’m genuinely confident he will be fine and told him so, but I will worry nonetheless.
The final goodbye to my Leaving Cert class is looming and I dread it as much as ever. It is just one of the many things that I wish my teacher-training qualification had prepared me for. Accompanying 25 lively teenagers on a long learning curve is a wonderful experience but the abruptness of the end is not. Brian is sensing this too from the student perspective. These final weeks always heighten my awareness of how poorly prepared they are for so much of what lies ahead. Telling them that they aren’t defined by their results will never have any impact when our actions say otherwise. We seem to feel the need to tell them so that those who are disappointed can draw on that for consolation. But nobody is actively preparing for disappointment in the run-up to the exams, so our message is wasted.
There is an illusion of predictability and control about the Leaving Cert, and students carry symbols which betray their allegiance to that view. Past papers are a must-have, preferably accompanied by heavy folders of notes, the bigger the better. Some students spend so much time accumulating notes that they run out of time to actually make use of them all. Perhaps they have not seen Amadeus where Mozart was told that there really is such a thing as “too many notes”.
Obsessing about what will come up in the exams distracts from the far more productive approach that all of the learning has value. Trying to predict the questions and tailor the learning accordingly is risky and not conducive to becoming a lifelong learner. If only Leaving Cert students knew that it is a cause for celebration when the amount they know far exceeds what they are actually tested on.
Leaving Cert students will never again study such a broad range of disciplines at the same time. This makes them highly agile learners, especially if their subjects vary in terms of the skills required: critical thinking, persuasive writing, foreign languages, all manner of tasks relating to mathematical formulae and scientific data, report writing and so much more. My students laugh sceptically when I set work and encourage full engagement by reminding them that nourishing their brains is a fantastic long-term investment. I remind them that the brain is a muscle which needs exercising too, and that I’m actively helping them prevent brain atrophy in later life. Being so young they truly see this as entirely irrelevant to them. If only they knew that science supports this and that it is not just me cajoling them.
It doesn’t help that right now Leaving Cert candidates must feel surrounded by those who advocate for the exam. Many only advocate by default, because as teachers and parents of a current cohort we can’t exactly tell candidates that it is all a load of cobblers. We may say it, but it is not a message we lavish on anyone at the height of the experience itself. It is a huge world that will soon open up to these young people and assure them that what they have just completed is one small chapter of their lives.
Talent looks very different in this new world, and a very different brand of achievement is rewarded. The individuals who shine and rise in their careers are those who get the things that really matter right and somehow also manage to breed the same behaviours in others. Doing well here is recognised in arriving on time and being prepared. An awareness of the energy one brings into a room matters in these environments, and those who belong are reminded of the importance of demonstrating a positive attitude when that reflects their experience.
Honesty is strongly encouraged, so openness to sharing concerns is also important. When this is done it is in a spirit of wishing for more and better for everyone, and this may require others to adjust what they are doing or how they are doing it. An ability to maintain focus and avoid personalising is core to functioning in these spaces, so high awareness of body language is key, especially one’s own. Those with a strong work ethic will play their part naturally and have a reasonable expectation that others will do so too.
[ The Secret Teacher: ‘I often correct work that has clearly been dictated’Opens in new window ]
Given our natural instinct to observe how much those around us do, or don’t do, a safe way of calling each other out when someone appears to fall short is essential: it must be done in a way that expresses concern and offers support. At key moments such as these, natural shifts in roles occur so colleagues may find themselves mentoring or coaching each other. Such practices result from a healthy acceptance that those we share our work lives with play the most crucial roles in our own personal and professional development.
Everyone due to sit exams next month already has the capacity to deliver on much of what I have just described. Brian certainly does – I’ve observed it in him for years. Self-awareness and a willingness to reflect on the behaviours one brings into school or work may not earn CAO points, but these are the things which truly matter.
If only Brian knew that. If only they all did.
