Some Leaving Cert Perspective

Although it is many moons ago, Mammy remembers getting her Leaving Cert Results.

Mammy was certain that the contents of the little brown envelope were going to change her life. Had Mammy’s life REALLY depended on the contents of that little brown envelope, quite frankly, I’d be living an utterly dreadful, mediocre and half-arsed attempt at one. 😂

Because the results printed on my little scrap of yellow paper were quite awful, if I’m very honest. The only mark I remember (or tell anyone about!) was my A1 in Honours English. Go figure.

As for the rest of them? I’d say the examiners only passed me so that they wouldn’t have to read my verbal diahorrea again the following year. 😂I’m not exaggerating either.

But the other grades didn’t matter. The A in English was all that mattered to me, both then AND today. Yes, I got into college, but not until I had spent a week back in the brown uniform 😣😣 convincing myself that I needed to repeat. It wasn’t until the second round offers and a trip to meet (attack😛) the Dean of the English Department in Coleraine, that I finally got my place on the degree course. (I might have only been 17, but I was a stroppy one!😂)

English was all I loved. It was all that I wanted to study and, as the little brown envelope told me, it was apparently all that I was good at… All that I was good at THEN.

At 17. Turns out, I’m good at a whole load of things. I just didn’t get to take exams in singing, dancing, shopping or eating.

The Big LC recognised my ability to understand Shakespeare and write stories off the top of my head, but it didn’t (and couldn’t) know how strong I was at things like organisation, being a friend, laughing or pulling pints. So I was crap at French. Biology for me ended after the section on photosynthesis. But although my maths grade was dismal, I challenge you to find ANYONE who can work out a % as quickly as me when I see the word “SALE”. 😂😂

So there. Now, almost 20 years on, I’m a teacher and of COURSE I value the Leaving Cert. I love teaching the course and I try my best to encourage my Babbies to give it their best shot. But I also know that they are teenagers. That they have a LOT going on. That some of them have things going on in their lives that are a WHOLE lot more important that exams. 😢 That whole some of them will give it their ALL for 2 years, on the day of the exam, it might just not happen. And sometimes, that at 18, they’re just not quite ready for the ridiculous pressure of the state exam.

For a whole load of reasons, Wednesday is a huge day for our young adults. But that little brown envelope is only that. An envelope. Despite what it is inflated to be, it is NOT the most important piece of paper in the world. Yes, the letters and numbers inside it will have an immediate effect. Yes, some doors will open and yes, some doors will close, but what is written on the page does not define them.

The Leaving Cert does NOT know our children. It doesn’t see the kindness. It doesn’t measure their ability to change things. It can’t recognise their skills as motivators, or thinkers, or makers, or doers. It does not define them, nor should it. And as parents, yes, some of us might be disappointed tomorrow. But mostly we should be proud, because regardless of what is on that page, they are OUR children and they have done their best and we must remind them that they CAN do whatever they want. Because WE know what they can be.

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There are ALWAYS options and sometimes, the path that they are so determined to be the ONLY one for them right now, was never the right one for them…it usually takes a few years for them to realise that however. But they will. 💕

So tonight, tell them how brilliant they are. And leave them under NO illusion that no matter what words and letters are on that piece of paper, that you are and will always be proud of them and that you will help them to get to where they want to go, may it be straight through the college door or in a longer, roundabout way. But all roads lead ahead. And before they know it, they won’t even remember what was printed on the page!

It might be almost 20 years since I opened my little brown envelope and had my heart broken in a million pieces, but trust me, everything happens for a reason. 😇 Tonight, I send love to all of the young people (especially my own Babbies😘😘) and to all you exam parents whose minions face the brown envelope this Wednesday.

And remember, that little brown envelope does NOT hold the key to their future. They hold that key already.

It’s right inside them.

And no piece of paper can change that.

Mammy  XXX

 

 

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I am Spelling Mum

Phonetics…

Gone are the days of learning the good old alphabet and putting together the words, just because.

Now, it’s all different. And obviously, it’s much more effective. Of course it is. Who am I to question it?

I’m used to it now, but initially when Mini-Me came home calling letters by their sounds, I couldn’t deal with it at all.

Suddenly, dog was not spelled Deee-oooh-Geeee. Apparently now it is Di – oh – Ga. And C-a-t is Ki-aaaaah- Teh.

Now that she has finally started to blend the sounds together, Mammy is excited. I am excited for when she will be able to disappear into worlds unknown, and go on adventures with exciting new friends, all from the comfort of the sofa or her own wee bed. Because to this Mammy, reading is the greatest gift that we can give our children. Without a da-ooh-uh-(silent)ba-ti…

Now, because Mini-Me is learning through Irish, her sounds are slightly different to what I as an English teacher would expect. And never was this more clear that on holidays last week.

“Sah-te-oh-pe….satooopa…stoooopa…STOP!”

“Well done Darling!”

“Oh-pa-eh-nah…ohpehna…OPEN!”

“Yes that’s right! Look at YOU reading all by yourself!”

And then we sat down at a table, on which was screwed a sign. The sign simply said “NO PICNIC”

She got “no”, Noooh bother.
Picnic however?
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“Pii-iiii-ka-niii-iiii-sa”

“No. Try again.”
“Pii-iiii-ka-niii-iiii-ka”

“Almost darling. Try it in two parts”. Clever mammy here covers the first syllable of the word, thinking that if we broke it down, it would be easier for her to decipher.

“Pi – iiii – See… I KNOW I KNOW! It’s PISS!” she screams in exuberance, at the top of her voice, in the middle of the outdoor restaurant.

“Shhhhhhhhhh! No!”

“It IS Mammy look! P-I-C is PISS!” And language barrier or not, every adult in the place, turned to look at the feral Irish child, roaring PISS at the top of her voice, as proud as punch of herself.

Aren’t phonetics phun?
Phuck my Liphe…

I am Some Chilling Facts Mum

“And that’s how valleys were made!” says Daddy, utterly proud of himself as he helps Mini-Me into her carseat.  He’s just had her looking over one of Donegal’s most beautiful valleys, The Poison Glen.

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Look at meeeeee Daddy!

They’ve stood out, looking and pointing and chatting, with Daddy being ‘the business’, informing her, teaching her, being the Daddy of all knowledge, and her little ears taking it all in.  I’ve been in the car with a sleeping Princess who quite frankly couldn’t give a hoot about anything other than when she next gets to eat or sleep.

He straps himself in and starts to drive.

Did the Ice-age really happen then?’ she asks, still wide eyed.

‘It did indeed.’  he answers smugly.

‘When like?’

‘Oh Millions of years ago.’

I’m enjoying this.  It’s nice having someone else answer her questions!  It reminds me of when I was her age and my Daddy knew EVERYTHING about EVERYTHING too. I was in awe of him.  (I still am.)

The Him’s enjoying it too. He smiles his handsome smile at me as he stops at a junction. Superdaddy…

‘Millions of years ago Daddy? Really?’  There’s doubt in her voice/

‘Yep.  Millions and millions of years ago…’

‘And was it really cold?’

‘It was. So cold that everything was covered in ice!’

(I know what’s coming in the way that only a Mammy can know what’s coming…)

‘So did Granny have to buy you a warmer coat?’

And just like that, his ice bubble was shattered into millions of pieces.  It’s amazing how quickly thathandsome smile can be replaced by Grumpy grump!

I turned up the heating.  It was suddenly quite chilly in the car…

 

I am showing what I like Mum

Right Ladybelles.

You know I don’t DO the whole “Wow, look what X have sent me so I can tell you how amazeballs it is” melarky, but when I find or buy something that genuinely makes my Mammying easier, I must show you.

I bought these for Mini-Me starting school last year and then when Princess started childcare. Guys, these stickers are BRILLIANT. They survive dishwashers, washing machines and children in general!

I was so impressed, I bought MYSELF some for going back to school. 😁My whole classroom shall be labeled! 😂😂

I MIGHT actually consider THINKING about going to buy the uniforms etc now that I have these badboys to start sticking onto stuff… on Friday! I’ll do it on Friday! 😣

Anyone else use them? Or do you have any other BTS hacks for the Mammies this morning? 😘😘😘

#mynametags #notareview #genuinepraise 😂

www.mynametags.com @MyNametags

I am “So it’s Results Day” Mum

Although it is many moons ago, Mammy remembers getting her Leaving Cert Results.

Mammy was certain that the contents of the little brown envelope were going to change her life. Had Mammy’s life REALLY depended on the contents of that little brown envelope, quite frankly, I’d be living an utterly dreadful, mediocre and half-arsed attempt at one. 😂

Because the results printed on my little scrap of yellow paper were quite awful, if I’m very honest. The only mark I remember (or tell anyone about!) was my A1 in Honours English. Go figure. As for the rest of them? I’d say the examiners only passed me so that they wouldn’t have to read my verbal diahorrea again the following year. 😂I’m not exaggerating either.

But the other grades didn’t matter. The A in English was all that mattered to me, both then AND today. Yes, I got into college, but not until I had spent a week back in the brown uniform 😣😣 convincing myself that I needed to repeat. It wasn’t until the second round offers and a trip to meet (attack😛) the Dean of the English Department in Coleraine, that I finally got my place on the degree course. (I might have only been 17, but I was a stroppy one!😂)

English was all I loved. It was all that I wanted to study and, as the little brown envelope told me, it was apparently all that I was good at… All that I was good at THEN. At 17. Turns out, I’m good at a whole load of things. I just didn’t get to take exams in singing, dancing, shopping or eating. The Big LC recognised my ability to understand Shakespeare and write stories off the top of my head, but it didn’t (and couldn’t) know how strong I was at things like organisation, being a friend, laughing or pulling pints. So I was crap at French. Biology for me ended after the section on photosynthesis. But although my math grade was dismal, I challenge you to find ANYONE who can work out a % as quickly as me when I see the word “SALE”. 😂😂

So there. Now, almost 20 years on, I’m a teacher and of COURSE I value the Leaving Cert. I love teaching the course and I try my best to encourage my Babbies to give it their best shot. But I also know that they are teenagers. That they have a LOT going on. That some of them have things going on in their lives that are a WHOLE lot more important that exams. 😢 That whole some of them will give it their ALL for 2 years, on the day of the exam, it might just not happen. And sometimes, that at 18, they’re just not quite ready for the ridiculousnpressure of the state exam.

For a whole load of reasons, tomorrow is a huge day for our young adults. But that little brown envelope is only that. An envelope. Despite what it is inflated to be, it is NOT the most important piece of paper in the world. Yes, the letters and numbers inside it will have an immediate effect. Yes, some doors will open and yes, some doors will close, but what is written on the page does not define them.

The Leaving Cert does NOT know our children. It doesn’t see the kindness. It doesn’t measure their ability to change things. It can’t recognise their skills as motivators, or thinkers, or makers, or doers. It does not define them, nor should it. And as parents, yes, some of us might be disappointed tomorrow. But mostly we should be proud, because regardless of what is on that page, they are OUR children and they have done their best and we must remind them that they CAN do whatever they want. Because WE know what they can be.

There are ALWAYS options and sometimes, the path that they are so determined to be the ONLY one for them right now, was never the right one for them…it usually takes a few years for them to realise that however. But they will. 💕

So tonight, tell them how brilliant they are. And leave them under NO illusion that no matter what words and letters are on that piece of paper tomorrow, that you are and will always be proud of them and that you will help them to get to where they want to go, may it be straight through the college door or in a longer, roundabout way. But all roads lead ahead. And before they know it, they won’t even remember what was printed on the page!

It might be almost 20 years since I opened my little brown envelope and had my heart broken in a million pieces, but trust me, everything happens for a reason. 😇 Tonight, I send love to all of the young people (especially my own Babbies😘😘) and to all you exam parents whose minions face the brown envelope tomorrow.

And remember, that little brown envelope does NOT hold the key to their future. They hold that key already.

It’s right inside them.

And no piece of paper can change that. XXX