My last year in school and my first year in isolation

I never expected a pandemic in my Leaving Cert year. Last September, I naively walked in through my school gates and pictured late night cramming sessions, 3-hour exams, and a merry graduation. I did not think I would spend my eighteenth year as a prisoner. I imagined a summer of train travel around Europe. Then I’d be packing my things for a new college venture. Now I walk the dog, search my soul, visit the fridge. My forecasting skills have failed me. This pandemic was not in my study timetable. Suddenly I am faced with a greater challenge than seven daunting exams. A miniscule virus has managed to change everything.

I no longer pride myself on an 8-hour working day. Why should I get up? To say good morning to the harsh light of my phone, kindly informing me of the latest coronavirus updates? This ongoing stream of harsh statistics and bleak predictions has taken a toll on my emotional state. Why else did I return to the mini-series Anne of Green Gables, something I first watched when I was eight years old? Gilbert Blythe’s gaze has never felt more powerful.

Aside from exam prep and romantic television, I have managed to squeeze in some physical activity. I, like many others, have turned to running as a form of distraction, and also a means to avoid a vitamin D deficiency. Running has also brought some action to my lagging imagination. Every bend in the road suddenly may be the last, because according to my little sister, the goblins are about!

I don’t think I’d be able to bear the oncoming months without a little help from my frivolous fantasies. But nevertheless, I am also determined to be ready for life on the other side. Now, more than ever before, we have an opportunity to reform our old world. For months young people have been fighting for a different and better way of life: one free of hate, war and global warming. This is our time. We cannot go on with fear, but instead, with hope. I hope that I, and 55,000 other Leaving Cert students, will use this event as a mould-breaker and as a mould-maker.

When I walked into school eight months ago I expected change. But I also expected normality. Yes, I thought I would leave in June with new perspectives and ideas, but I also thought I would post my baby photo in the school’s atrium and walk through a guard of honour at graduation mass. I won’t get those normal experiences. But I am getting a lot more.