Exam Diary Seamus ConboyAt last the rain has arrived. I should have known it would wait for the first day of the Irish exam. It brought with it a feeling of deep exhaustion and boredom that didn't help propel me through this long and difficult day.
This morning's maths paper went well for me because I have a perverse addiction to sample questions and past papers. I'm wondering whether I made the right decision putting history and politics as my first CAO choice.
Perhaps I should have followed a career as a mathematician. I could wend my way into a career in journalism that way, perhaps. I could be the definitive voice for all those mathematical news stories that break nowadays. Can't just think of one right now.
By lunchtime I was starting to get very weary of exams, however, so I gambolled off for some ice cream and a bit of light hurling before Irish Paper 1.
Little did I know that the paper that I was quite looking forward to would bleed me dry. Peig herself couldn't have stamped out my enthusiasm so callously. The essay questions were so boring I almost nodded off just reading them. I chose to write an essay applauding the Irish Army.
In an attempt to inject some va-va-voom into the project I ended up sounding like a recruitment ad for the forces. I haven't the faintest interest in joining the Army myself but the Leaving Cert is no place for sincerity.
I got through the essay all right and hoped for a shot in the arm from the comprehension section - perhaps a light parody or a spoof news article to lift my flagging spirit?
Instead I had to wade through a discussion on the war in Liberia followed by a report on an archaeological dig in Mullingar. I wouldn't have bothered to read it in the newspaper on a lazy Sunday over Eggs Benedict. I go to a Gaelscoil, for pity's sake! This exam should have been a pleasure!
I emerged blinking from the gloom to find that the rain had been falling heavily throughout the afternoon, greasing up the roads and ruining my chances of getting a game last night. I dragged my weakened body home to a bag of crisps and an appointment with The Irish Times. Seamus! There's a huge logarithm story breaking downtown! Can you cover it?
Last week I had all but decided not to vote in today's election but it might be karmically damaging to my CAO aspirations - surely a HisPol hopeful can find the time to exercise his democratic entitlements. There is, however, a moratorium on election coverage today. This is my one chance to mount a national platform and tell the world just what I think about Europe, local government and the citizenship question and I'm stifled. It could be months before I'm asked again.
Despite all my promises I still didn't make it to bed before midnight last night. I intend to sleep all weekend but I know that geogrophobia will haunt my dreams. The fear of Monday's geography paper has never quite left me. It is, by definition, everywhere I turn. I can't find solace in Santry's pretty pater noster lakes or the ancient limestone clints and grooves of Mobhi Road.
All the world's a map and I am merely a map reader. I'll be glad when Tuesday comes and I can enjoy my planet again.
