The Leaving Cert has always been a cause for anxiety and emotion for me, and nothing makes me feel sick quite like the thoughts of ten high-pressure exams that decide if I go to college. From day one of fifth-year, I struggled with the intensity of the Leaving Cycle, to a point where my hair began to fall out from the stress I was experiencing. Sixth-year came with more ease and I’ve found it to be a great deal more manageable, but I still feel pressure and stress like any other sixth-year student does, and I rely on routine and a school environment to keep me going.
When the news broke that schools across the country would be closing due to the COVID-19 situation worsening in Ireland, my heart sank and I very nearly burst into tears. Although we were told it would only last two weeks, I knew this wouldn’t be the case and I felt nauseous at the idea of trying to replicate my school routine at home and not getting to finish out the year with my friends. I had high hopes for how I would spend this time at home and really wanted to use the two weeks to be productive, but I didn’t. By the third day of remote learning, I was completely unmotivated and felt overpowered and struggled to get out of bed, and this has been the case ever since. When I try to work, I can’t concentrate and I get headaches from staring at screens. I have lots of bad days where I lie in bed and cry for hours out of frustration and sadness. I feel that what is expected of me in the midst of a pandemic is impossible. It is exhausting trying to do school from home and I’m left with intense guilty feelings when I fail to meet these expectations, which is happening more often than I expected. I regularly feel overwhelmed and I just want to give up, and I’ve even considered changing all my courses on the CAO to ones with much lower points because I don’t believe anymore that I’m going to achieve my goals.
When I heard there was to be an announcement regarding the State Exams I immediately felt fearful. I took to Twitter, where #cancelthelc was trending, and I found comfort in knowing that many students were also struggling like me and were begging politicians to consider our well-being in their decision. I had hoped that our pleas would be listened to. When I heard that my Leaving Cert was to go ahead sometime within the vague period of ‘late July or early August’ I broke down into floods of tears. It feels like a nightmare to me that I am expected to keep motivated and continue my education at home until August, while there is a global epidemic taking place. I feel ignored, and I feel that the people in power see the class of 2020 as nothing more than a faceless statistic of 61,000 teenagers. To tell a large group of young adults, who even in normal circumstances face mental health issues due to exam pressure, that their school year is being prolonged by possibly two months and that they will sit ten State exams amid a global health crisis is an insult. The lack of empathy and clarity given by our government is beyond disappointing and I feel let down by the people who are supposed to look after me.
However, I am one of the lucky ones in this situation. Although the months that lie ahead create extreme anxiety for me and I fear for the toll they will take on my mental health, I have to remind myself of the advantage I have. I am a student of an encouraging school that has given me strong academic foundations. I have a bedroom to myself with a desk and a laptop connected to WiFi to help me learn remotely. My family members don’t have to clock into a job every day, allowing us to self-isolate together. I have not been personally affected by the virus, and neither have my friends or family. I am in the perfect situation to benefit from this time at home, yet it’s the most challenging and mentally strenuous obstacle I’ve ever been faced with. I can’t help but think of the thousands of students across the country that aren’t in the advantageous position that I am – the students that don’t have access to a quiet workspace or to facilities such as computers and WiFi. The students who deal with the daily worry of having parents who are front-line workers putting their lives in danger for our sake. The students who are taking care of younger siblings or sick family members. The students who have been personally troubled by the virus. The list goes on.
We aren’t just a group of anonymous sixth years that can be ignored, we are people with lives, with emotions, with issues of our own. We fear for our families and friends like everyone else. We worry about the financial and economic repercussions of this health crisis like everyone else. We were looking forward to graduating, finishing secondary school and going on holidays with friends, but this is all now out of the question and we’re missing out on events that are like a rite-of-passage to sixth years. A question-mark even hangs over our debs, and these issues may seem insignificant to others but they are important to us. We are trying to get through this pandemic like everyone else in the world, which is tough enough as it is without the added burden of a set of exams at the end. It’s disheartening to see our opinions and concerns being blatantly disregarded and to have to sit back and watch your government make decisions that are not in your best interest. There are flaws to every alternative, but anyone of them would be better than making us sit exams with inadequate education while a global epidemic is happening.
I’m scared to think of the consequences for me and many others of this constant uncertainty, misery and stress being dragged out much longer than we had prepared for. The government’s response to the current situation is nothing but tone-deaf and meagre, and it’s a kick in the teeth to every sixth year in the country. Extraordinary times call for extraordinary measures, and this is not a time to follow tradition. I won’t forget how I was ignored and overlooked by the leaders of my country, who have taken the easy way out at the cost of my health.
Help information
If you need help please talk to friends, family, a GP, therapist or one of the free confidential helpline services. For a full list of national mental health services see yourmentalhealth.ie.
- Samaritans 116 123 or email jo@samaritans.org
- Pieta House National Suicide Helpline 1800 247 247 or email mary@pieta.ie – (suicide prevention, self-harm, bereavement) or text HELP to 51444 (standard message rates apply)
- Aware 1800 80 48 48 (depression, anxiety)
If living in Ireland you can find accredited therapists in your area here:
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