RESITTING THE LEAVING CERT:The first time around, FIONA McCANNwas more worried about boys and acne than exams but now she has turned into the swot of ' The Irish Times' class. However, she does have a certain advantage
IT’S BEEN 18 years since my last Leaving Cert. And this time, I’m cheating.
To explain: although I didn’t study Spanish at school or university, I did manage to squeeze in four years of living in a Spanish-speaking country since then, hence the cheating headstart with the language. Or so you’d think. Because sure enough, right there on my curriculum vitae, it says my Spanish is fluent. And who would ever lie on their CV? Should be a walk in the park then, this Leaving Cert – hardly a test at all.
The only problem is, I learned my Spanish in Buenos Aires, which is the equivalent of learning your English in Ballinskelligs – you might speak it with a fluency that impresses the Ballinskelligans, but nobody outside of that particular corner of the world can understand a blind bit of what you’re saying. Besides, in the Argentinian establishments where I picked up my conversational Spanish, no one ever differentiated between the Queen’s Spanish and slang, which means I could unwittingly end up littering my exam paper with well-intentioned expletives.
I’m strangely nervous, not a feeling I recall from the first time around. Although hindsight is a dim-eyed devil, I don’t remember being remotely concerned about my original Leaving Cert. Not when there was so much more to worry about, like acne and boys.
But now I’m an adult, see, and have put away such childish things. Plus, this time around, I might actually get served on results night.
So bring it on, Leaving Cert numero dos: do your worst. Then I find out what worst really means: 2.5 hours. Without phone or internet. As if that wasn't bad enough, it appears, despite the technological leaps made since Leaving Cert numero uno, you still have to write your answers. With a pen.I haven't so much as signed my name in years (thank you chip and pin).
I practise balancing a biro between thumb and forefinger. It feels weird. My fingers are twitching for a keyboard. But there’s no way out – the exam paper is here, the clock has started, and I’m supposed to be writing.
The first question is on a prescribed text. Of course, by the time I’ve worked that out, I’m already half-way through the extract about Ana and her mate Ahmed who’s ended up in hospital, poor chap. Despite wasting valuable time reading through to the end, I never find out whether he came through.
But to answer the questions that follow, I’m supposed to have read the whole book, so I skip to the “or” part, which is a piece about co-education. Oh look! It’s on a study that has taken place in Buenos Aires! I am immediately transported to Buenos Aires, where I spend the next 10 minutes before I remember where I am. Still doing my Leaving Cert. For 2.25 more hours. Which is two hours and 10 minutes longer than my attention span these days. I wonder how I ever concentrated for this long the first time around.
I am immediately transported back to Leaving Cert numero uno: the smell of the prefab, the acne, the boys. I remember where I am again, and drag myself reluctantly back to the exam paper, where the study is saying co-education might be bad for girls. Nonsense, say I. In Spanish. I hope. Or maybe I say something rude. Either way, I think my opinion is clear.
So far, so good. I’m zipping through the sections, which focus on teenage preoccupations, such as ditch drinking and cheating in exams. I can’t believe they have a piece about cheating in exams. Talk about giving someone ideas.
It’s all going swimmingly, until I get to the cursed Section C. Here, I have to write out an imagined conversation with Maria the waitress, where I tell her my parents are coming to visit me in Madrid for the summer. Like that wouldn’t send me into a blind panic. But no, apparently I am delirious at the prospect and must convey this in Spanish to said Maria. It seems to me we should be teaching our youth the kind of Spanish they might actually find useful in real life, but nonetheless I tell Maria, as instructed, that I am hoping my parents will visit the Prado for the Goya exhibition. No doubt Maria injures herself laughing at this, although they fail to include this on the exam paper.
Next up, a diary entry. This time, I’m writing from my holidays in Spain, where I’m awaiting my Leaving Cert results. I decide to flex my creative muscles and try to get into the mind of a teenager, until I realise the people who set the Leaving Cert clearly hate teenagers. I try to amend my entry to include more examiner-friendly content. I’m not sure that it matters, given how illegible my handwriting is, but now I have a lump growing on my middle finger not seen since 1995 when I last held a biro.
I am exhausted with all this concentration, so I leave a bit early. Okay, maybe an hour early. But I still have 40 minutes of an aural exam to do. I diligently make notes during the listening. Wait? Are we allowed make notes? I contemplate eating notes or squirreling them about my person. I am so busy worrying about note etiquette that I miss some of the speaking. I am glad when it's all over. Now all I have to do is wait for the results and the fiesta to follow. Muchas cervezas, por favor. See? Fluent.
How Fiona did
THE MARKER SAYS
The candidate approached this examination paper in a very organised manner. The answers were clear and legible at all times.
It was clear that the candidate had an excellent understanding of the language. All answers were complete on the Listening Comprehension, with no guessing involved. There was only one minor error in the whole Listening Test.
A very clear understanding of all the reading comprehensions was displayed. All questions were answered fully and correctly. The written production section was also dealt with in a very thorough manner. There were only a few minor grammatical errors in this section.
FIONA’S RESULT
A1
Marked by Máire G Ní Chiarba, the Spanish and French convenor for the Association of Secondary Teachers of Ireland.
