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Irish Times
13-06-2025
- General
- Irish Times
Leaving Cert parent: It is cruel and unusual punishment - but sometimes you have to laugh
We like stupid jokes in this house. Dad jokes. They get far too much laughter considering the quality of the joke. And the inevitable bad delivery. But they have been a very important mood-breaker over the past few weeks. No matter how cool and unfazed a teenager normally is, the Leaving Certificate is an imitating beast – a shadow keeping thousands of students in the shade even on the sunniest of June days. Brief moments of light relief are valuable, even if it's just temporary. READ MORE Dropping my Junior and Leaving Cert girls (yes, we had both this year!) at their local school on the first day of this month's state exams, it was noticeable how many students looked terrified on their way to English paper one – nervous, frail, sick looking. Including my own. - 'Best of luck today, girls. Remember to avoid cliches like the plague.' Two sets of eyes roll. - 'Ughh, goodbye.' I'm surprised by how recognisable the State examinations are. The curriculum may have changed over the decades, but the Irish education system still evaluates students by piling enormous pressure on their young shoulders and then seeing how much they can cram on to a page – on subjects that may have nothing to do with the career they hope to pursue. The Leaving Cert English exams are six hours, 10 minutes, total. Like most of the exams, it's a race, rewarding students good at rote learning with fast handwriting. Also, just like in my day, the first few days of exams fly by. - 'What's tomorrow?' - 'Maths paper one.' - 'Can I help? I'll ask you questions and give you 15 cents for every maths question you get right. You could earn up to 40 cents!' - 'Mom! Tell him to go away.' After just one week, the Junior Cert girl is finished. Nine exams in six days. Her older sister still had three exams, and more than a week and a half, to go. Neighbours and friends told them it was great to get the exams over and dusted with quickly, and also it was handy they were spread out so much, depending on which girl they talked to. Regardless, both felt the immense strain. Parents may understand how, sometimes, you don't realise how sick a child was until they recover. As parents, we felt our main job over the month was not to add to the stress. That's it. Wake them, feed them, tolerate whatever it is you would normally not tolerate – such as coffee mugs left in random places throughout the house. Apart from jokes, I am also armed with really helpful words of encouragement. - 'The only time success comes before work is in the dictionary you know.' - 'Please, please, go away.' An Irish friend living abroad messaged this week to ask how the Leaving Cert was going. She mentioned her child was doing the equivalent of the Leaving Cert. They get their results one week after the exams finish. Here, of course, it will be more than two months before students get the results. The points that decide if they secure the third-level spot they want. Or, maybe, the education system can make them wait even longer to find out which direction their life is going to take. It's cruel and unusual punishment. Luckily, the entire country reacts to someone doing the Leaving like a nationwide self-help group. We all know the pain. And sympathise. In the meantime, in this house, we're all still doing the Leaving Certificate. Everyone that has a family member doing the exams is also doing it. - 'That a physics book?' - 'Ya.' - 'I was wondering what the matter was.' Sometimes, however much they try not to, they can't help but laugh.
Irish Times
02-06-2025
- Business
- Irish Times
The Leaving Cert is not a meritocracy. Elitism is baked into Irish education
There's a version of the Irish education system that exists only on paper, one where every student is given an equal chance to succeed, where the Leaving Cert is a meritocracy, and where hard work alone determines outcomes. But in practice, that promise is being steadily eroded, not because grinds exist, but because of how a broken system is being exploited. There has been a lot of discussion about the unfairness of grind schools, and rightly so, but the issue runs deeper than a handful of elite institutions. We need to start talking about grinds as part of a larger problem, one that reflects how elitism is baked into the infrastructure of Irish education. A system where access to additional support is shaped not by need, but by postcode and income. A system where grinds, once intended to support struggling students, now operate as yet another instrument of advantage for those already ahead. [ Classroom to college: our essential Leaving Cert guide for parents, guardians and students ] Grind schools with full-time timetables and five-figure fees have become the poster children of this ecosystem, and they warrant scrutiny not just for who they serve, but for how they've normalised a model that commercialises success. Their extensive part-time offerings, evening classes, weekend blitzes and Easter revision camps, are marketed with precision and priced at a premium. Alongside an expanding network of private tutors and agencies, they reflect a broader reality: public education is no longer perceived as enough. READ MORE Grinds have been part of Irish education for decades, but what was once viewed as a remedial safety net has evolved into a shadow economy, one where high-achieving students turn to extra tuition as a competitive necessity. Over half of Leaving Cert students now take grinds, and that number is rising . This year alone prices have increased by as much as 23 per cent, with some providers now charging up to €100 an hour, meaning a single subject can cost families over €1,500 for the year. For households managing two or three grinds, the total can rival private school tuition, with none of the systemic support. This inequality is geographical as well as financial. The most widely known, incumbent grinds options are concentrated in and around South Dublin. These are areas where transport links are strong, marketing budgets are high, and families are willing and able to pay. Students elsewhere, in rural communities or underfunded schools, often have to settle for far less. Less choice, less structure, less access. And so, the gap widens, quietly but relentlessly. The State tells students they all sit the same paper, but some will walk into that exam hall with ten months of extra teaching behind them, others will walk in with none The impact is not just financial, it's emotional and cultural, with grinds becoming a shorthand for doing everything possible to get ahead. For students who can't afford them, it can feel like being left behind before the race even starts. Just imagine being told your classmates are getting extra notes, mock papers, and exam strategy sessions, all while knowing you can't access the same because of where you live. That pressure shows up everywhere, in the anxiety that builds as the CAO deadline approaches, in the hours spent commuting to revision courses, and in the narrowing of education to what's examinable. The State tells students they all sit the same paper, but some will walk into that exam hall with ten months of extra teaching behind them, others will walk in with none. The idea that this is fair is a story we tell ourselves, but it's not one our students believe. The truth is that grinds are just one part of a broader national story, a symptom of a society increasingly divided along lines of income and access. In housing, in healthcare, in education, we see again and again how opportunity is being privatised, how those with the means to pay are stepping further ahead while others are locked out. The grinds economy reflects that same logic: if you can afford it, there's a door. If not, you're left behind, watching others walk through. Grinds aren't the problem, access is. Extra tuition can play a powerful role in supporting students, teachers, parents, and schools. When done well, it gives learners the best possible chance at success. But right now, grinds operate like a premium product, reserved for those who can afford it. That's not a reflection of their value, but of a broken model. It's time to break that cycle, grinds schools are elitist, but they do not have to be. Brendan Kavanagh is founder and chief executive of the global EdTech company, Olive
Irish Times
27-05-2025
- General
- Irish Times
No problem in principal
Sir, -John McHugh surprisingly states that 'The role of principal is no longer seen as attractive or sustainable, and this poses a threat to the quality and continuity of school leadership in the country.' ('It is a great honour to be school principal – but the role is no longer sustainable', Education, May 26th ). It is surprising because there no evidence of a recruitment crisis for school principals. On the contrary these well-paid, permanent jobs are highly sought after and any vacancies that arise are promptly filled. By comparison there is a long running, and deepening, crisis in teacher recruitment. This is unarguably the single biggest threat to the quality and continuity of education (including school leadership) in Ireland. A principal and the school s/he leads can only be successful when they are able to recruit the necessary personnel. READ MORE At present it's a lack of teachers, not principals, which is threatening our educational system. –Yours, etc, SEAN KEAVNEY, Dublin 15.
