Since I started 6th year, I’ve morphed into a granny. I’ve developed a penchant for falling asleep in front of Emmerdale, and hot milk before bed (tea would just keep me up, wouldn’t want that now). I’ve started to use such phrases as ‘Can feel an aul chill in the evenings now, summer’s definitely over’. Yesterday, I did about 5 minutes of circuits in PE, and spent all of today moaning about my various aches and pains. It was the most fun I’ve had in weeks. What’s next, woollen shawls and swooning at the mention of Daniel O’ Donnell? For results, I’ll probably organise a bridge night in the parish centre. Oh yeah, we’re gonna party like its 1952….and still be up for mass the next morning.
Anyway, I’m gonna go ahead and put this premature ageing down to stress from my ever increasing workload. The teachers have gotten gung ho about the tests lately. In every subject, I’ve either had a test or been promised one, and we’ve only been back a (very) wet week. Tomorrow alone I have two (or is it three..?) tests and another one on Friday. On top of this , of course, there’s the ever present mountain of homework, and revision from 5th year. You know what would be fabulous? An extra two or three hours in the day, all my time management problems would just go out the window. Well, a girl can dream….
Since I could no longer delay the inevitable, I made a study timetable today. I drew in the neat little squares, coloured it liberally with highlighter, added the little lovehearts and bubble writing….yknow, the usual. The thing looked like a primary school art project by the time I’d finished. That, of course, was the easy part. The slightly challenging bit was actually sticking to its demands. When you remember that it’s expecting 3 hours a night of study from you, and 4 on weekends, it doesn’t look as friendly anymore. It becomes a malicious figure, mocking you from the wall when you don’t stick religiously to it, a permanent, visual reminder of your own incompetence. Will it work for me? I don’t really know, it hasn’t always in the past. But apparently, the tool to a brilliant Leaving Cert is organisation. And I am anything but organised. My desk is buried under so much scrap paper that I’ve forgotten what it looks like, and at times my writing bears a strong resemblance to hieroglyphics. So who knows, maybe this timetable will be the first step towards the Holy Grail of good organisation. And if not, at least it looks like I’m doing something.
Anyway, I’d better get upstairs and do some Biology. My break is over. The timetable has spoken.