(For the sake of those who don't speak Irish - see translations at the end)
A few days ago, I had my Irish oral exam, which consists of a 15 minute conversation as Gaeilge* in order to gain 40% of the overall mark for my Irish for my Leaving Cert. Piece of cake!
I started getting Irish orals grinds from September onward, in order to build up my confidence. By the time the mock Irish oral came around, I wasn't a bit worried and entirely convinced that I would walk out of the mock feeling like the founding father of the language itself.
How wrong was I, eh?
The examiner grilled me on topics such as how to download music and the plot of The Hunger Games, (I don't think I will ever forget the word 'íoslodáil'** for as long as I live). Let me just reiterate that I had to say all of this AS GAEILGE*** . Picture the scene: a stammering, bumbling mess sweating in her chair like a priest in an orphanage. For once in my life, I was speechless.
"I'm glad it happened to you", she told me when we were críocnaithe****.
I couldn't say I was thrilled myself to be honest.
From then on, bhí mé an-neirbhíseach ar fad*****. Rigorous preparation for the real deal ensued. I learned off an entire paragraph explaining how to download music, as well as the plot of The Hunger Games. I knew the modh coinniollach****** better than I knew myself. I prepared for every worst case scenario, every sticky question she could throw at me.
The day came, and I was due to be examined at half 2 in the afternoon. I stood outside the room with the guy before me, waiting for him to be called. People who had been examined before me had been asked questions ranging from the Pope, to their opinion on the colour green. Our teachers had frantically given us vocabulary to cover both topics before we were due to be examined. Now, there was no more we could do.
"Sure it's just reading a poem, talking about a picture, bit of a chat", he said.
"Yeah, just a bit of a chat", I said, trying to drown out the voice in mind manically reciting every word of Irish I've ever heard.
Soon, he was called, and then it was just me in the hall, facing the longest 15 minute wait in my life.
"Verbal diarrhea", I thought of my teacher's advice, "just go in and regurgitate everything".
My friend came out of the exam, awash with relief.
"You have nothing to worry about. It's fine. Honestly".
As he went to class, I hovered outside the room for a few minutes, braced myself, and went in.
She was a tiny woman, the examiner: blonde, and sitting adjacent to a tape recorder that sounded like it ran on diesel. We greeted each other, I signed my name on the roll, and sat down.
I read my poem and picture so as to move on to the general conversation as quickly as possible. It all just started pouring out of me - I was running high on adrenaline and a single Kalms tablet my friend had given me before I went in, (don't do drugs - not even over-the-counter anti-anxiety tablets made of sugar and little else).
We got on to the topic of music. I informed her I could not live without it, that I had seen The Maine and All Time Low live last year, and after the Leaving Cert, I would be seeing Rihanna and The Killers respectively.
"Agus cad a cheapann tú faoi Rihanna?"******* she asked me, "cén saghas cailín í?"********
I sat, gobsmacked. What did I think of Rihanna?! What kind of person was she?! I scrambled for the information - abusive boyfriend, drug abuse, fashion icon, not particularly partial to wearing clothes ...
"Is ... cailín deas dathúil í?" ********* I replied, "Eh ... Caitheann sí eadaí ... Eh ... Cool ... " **********
The examiner laughed, at which point I realised that not only had I cocked up my answer, but the examiner now thought I was a lesbian. Great. At least now I might have grounds to appeal my result. Can you imagine? "She failed me because I fancy ladies!"
Before I knew it, it was over. I floated out of the room, as relief flooded my body and left me incapable of saying anything other than - "It went grand!"
I drifted through the hall and sat on the window, stalling before class, content in the thought that I would never have to speak Irish again, unless by choice. Phew!
My result? Irrelevant. I got through it without puking into my examiner's lap - that's achievement enough for me.
* - In Irish
** - Download
*** - In Irish
**** - Finished
***** - I was very nervous
****** - The conditional tense
******* - "What do you think of Rihanna?"
******** - "What kind of girl is she?"
********* - "She is a nice beautiful girl".
********** - "She wears a lot of cool clothes".
Google+ - F Jones
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