TeenTimes Michael PidgeonLast week, I dropped to Ordinary Level Irish. I have an ego that requires more massaging than an average spinal-injury patient, so this academic bruising hit me hard. I wanted someone to blame. I'm going to be honest. I have a grudge against our first language. Instead of examining what more I could have done to improve my Irish, I did as all good teenagers do and looked elsewhere for someone to blame.
After much searching for a person or group toward whom I could direct my resentment, I found a much bigger target to hold accountable, one which I could even capitalise to make it seem more sinister. I blamed The System. When you examine successive governments' policy on Irish teaching, it's hard not to.
When Irish was made our first language it was an understandable move. Emerging as an independent nation, we needed to stress that which made us different from Britain. Language was an easy way to get rid of the post-colonial image we so desperately wanted to shake off.
Of course, since that time, Ireland has shown itself to be a vibrant, unique and independent nation, which no longer needs to emphasise its dissimilarity. So why are we still left with the nasty cultural and political afterthought that is compulsory Irish in schools? It's a question I have asked many times but I am yet to hear any satisfactory answers.
Most people answer by simply saying, "Irish is our first language". Walk around Ireland and, aside from street signs, you'd never guess it. Irish is our first language only by point of law.
The other main argument you'd hear for the keeping of compulsory Irish classes is that the Irish language is "part of our culture". To this argument there are three obvious counterpoints. First, I object to being told by the Government what exactly "my culture" is. Second, history, music and art are all massive parts of our culture, yet we are not forced to sit these exams. Third, and perhaps most important, is the argument that forcing "culture" down someone's throat at an early age can only lead to an aversion to culture in later life.
You don't need a teacher to tell you (but many of them will) that there is something wrong with the Irish language curriculum. Take me for example: I've had a string of excellent, enthusiastic Irish teachers. I have learned Irish since Junior Infants and I have spent eight weeks in the Gaeltacht. Yet, when it comes to our native tongue, I have the linguistic clarity of a toothless Alex Ferguson. Something has to be wrong.
I'm not a teacher so I can't tell the people who decide these things what to fix and what to leave alone. As a student, however, I object to being forced to learn this increasingly redundant language. I have no problem if some Irish-loving students want to continue to ride this broken educational train, but please let some of us get off it should we so choose.
Michael Pidgeon (17) is in sixth year at Blackrock College, Co Dublin
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