He was my little man 14 years ago when he started school. He walked shyly and bravely into the school and watched apprehensively as I left with the other parents. He emerged some hours later beaming and relieved and ran to the car, delighted to be going home. On his third day I forgot to collect him. He still remembers . . .

Now I’m again going to collect him as he finishes the first of his Leaving Cert exams. This time I will remember. He has a pile of books to bring home that are far too heavy to carry. All complicated and detailed reading. A long way from the Ladybird books and the big-picture posters of those first schooldays.

Playdough and playdates have long since been left behind. His tablet, his sport, his pals and his girlfriend entertain him now.

The little shy man with the little empty schoolbag has morphed into a bearded, sociable and assertive young man. His vulnerability now is the impending Leaving Certificate. The big bad wolf – as he sees it. Stress and worry one moment, chill and distract the next, with a middle ground being hard to find.

And the parental dilemma of how to tell him it’s not that big a deal in the long run – without downplaying his good efforts. He just wants to survive it and enjoy the downtime afterwards. Don’t we all . . .

His first teacher was lovely. She kneeled on the floor to engage with him at his level and they both charmed each other. I don’t think he’s seen such gentle charming since then. It’s doesn’t feature in an all-boys secondary school, but it certainly worked its magic then.

All about the banter

But charm is lost to exams. It’s all about the banter now. Banter among the students and with the teachers. Banter on social media – the bane of their young lives. They could do with some gentle charming to ease their stresses right now. Just like that stressful first day in school that they no longer remember. The Leaving Cert too and the hype of it all will fade from their memory in time. I’m hard pushed to remember mine now.

His first week in secondary school was very different to his first week in primary school. He came home that first day shell-shocked. The big and booming voice of his new principal had introduced them to a new vocabulary of blue warnings and pink warnings, detention and suspension.

From being the big boys of primary school they were now the small lads of secondary school. Scary. It took a while to settle in, but he did and has banked up some great memories since. He’ll start all over again if and when he gets to college.

His lovely first primary school teacher gave him a big sticker with his name on it. His name was on everything then and belongings often got muddled with those of his classmates, to be exchanged between the mothers the following morning.

Stories dried up

He brought home lots of stories in the early school years. The stories, alas, dried up in secondary school, with titbits filtering through via his brother or his pals. Within weeks of starting junior infants, he came home and excitedly told us how God (the principal) had spoken from heaven (the school intercom) telling the boys in his class to stop wee-weeing on the floor and to use the toilet. A little divine intervention now would not go astray . . .

The bantering multitude of teachers he’s now saying goodbye to are a good bunch. They’ve nurtured his interests and ability. Some have inspired him, several have been quiet role models, and many he will certainly miss and remember fondly. He won’t miss the exam fever, though, and, no doubt, nor will they. The teachers stress too.

Right now, though, it’s about getting those books home. His schooldays are over. They’ve been good years and he’s about ready now to move on and fly that coop although I, as his mother, struggle a little with it. At some level I’d like to hang onto it – and to him – a little longer.

And so for me, and many other mothers, it’s bittersweet. He’ll be too consumed with the stress of the Leaving Certificate, and the excitement of the post-Leaving Certificate holiday, to dwell on it. For sure, though, there will never be quite that level of intensity, of development and discovery, discipline and belonging that has been his school experience. He hasn’t quite grasped that yet.

The little four-year-old and all his buddies have come a long way as they now look into their Leaving Certificate days. May they all roll right through it as they have with their schooldays and on from there to their next big adventure.