Jonny McCambridge: Behind every set of exam results is a story

One of the outcomes of this was that I didn’t excel academically. I wasn’t prepared or able to put the work in and the outcomes inevitably suffered. I came to think of myself as lazy and cultivated the cavalier image that suggested I didn’t try because I didn’t care. Privately I feared I was less intelligent than many of my classmates. It never occurred to me then that my failings might have been linked to a condition in my brain which diminished my powers of concentration and blunted my mental stamina.

But then things changed. When I reached sixth year I found a group of friends that I was comfortable with and finally developed a social life. It wasn’t an overnight transition but I found that I actually began to look forward to going to school and no longer dreaded the morning alarm clock. I stopped viewing teachers as some sort of alien enemy and considered them, for the first time, as real people with personalities who were trying to help me. (One of the things I am most proud of is that I know several of them now read this weekly column).

Even though I might not have admitted it to others I enjoyed the subjects I was studying - the French Revolution and British and Irish politics in History, DH Lawrence, Philip Larkin and F Scott Fitzgerald in English, and Athenian Democracy in Classical Civilisation. Much of what I learnt then still stays with me today.

As A-levels approached I discovered a previously unknown zeal for studying and would spend long hours revising in preparation for the exams. Where before I could not apply myself for even a few minutes, I now found I could go on for hours, late into the evening and still retain the thirst for more knowledge. And yet I still never made the connection that the transformation had anything to do with the simple fact that I was no longer unhappy.

Like an Olympic long distance runner I timed my final sprint to perfection. My newfound confidence and contentment helped me cope with the pressure of the A-level process, in which I often had to produce four essays in three hours and scribbled furiously until my hand was riddled with cramp.

And when the results came I well surpassed my own modest expectations. Unusually, I achieved a higher grade in both English and History at A-level than I had done at GCSE. While my teachers insisted they were unsurprised by my grades and knew the potential had been there, a more piercing assessment was delivered by the disbelieving tone and remarks of one my mates when he phoned to ask how I had got on.

‘They must have made a mistake, you’ve never got a bloody A in your life!’

And so all that was left to do was to celebrate. On results night I ended up in Kelly’s nightclub, as it seemed, did most of the pupils in my year. My initial excitement at my success became slightly tempered. There were several who were there for solace, rather than celebration. I remember the haunted look on the face of one peer drinking grimly at the bar who had not received the hoped for grades and who now believed he faced an uncertain future.

Another friend did not attend Kelly’s that night at all. This individual had always been an excellent student but, I was aware, had recently been suffering from exhaustion and turmoil caused by insomnia. My friend, who had been expected to get A grades, instead ended up with results which ensured that the exams would have to be repeated a year later. I was struck by the thought that this person had been an impeccable pupil for seven years, while I had been mediocre, and how unfair it was that something so random would ensure that I would go to university while my friend would have to wait. How blunt the instrument that judged us was. I left Kelly’s that night slightly more chastened than when I arrived.

These events have been in my mind recently as I have been following the confusion and controversy of Northern Ireland’s exams results process. In this year the normal challenges have been magnified by pandemic, lockdown, an improvised system, a Government U-turn and a messy, imperfect conclusion which has deepened the uncertainty for many.

The truth is that, as I discovered decades ago, there is no process which suits everyone and there will always be those who flourish while others are left with regrets and questions. While there is no doubting the good intentions of everyone who has been part of this, I do admit to being left uneasy by the frequent use of the terms ‘anomaly’ and ‘algorithm’ when dealing with the delicate hopes and future of children.

Through working in newspapers, I’ve been covering exam results for more than 20 years. I suppose every year takes me slightly further away from that scared and miserable youth who struggled with education, but I hope the memory never fades enough to allow me not to have empathy for the next generations and the violent pulls that are exerted on their emotions, be it from A-levels or GCSEs. Sometimes I wonder about the consequences of the strain on those with brittle confidence. I always try to remember that there is a human story behind every set of results.

When we are very young, most of us are lucky enough to be insulated within the embrace of a loving family. Later on most of us will find our own way. But it is the period in the middle, when we are taking the first faltering steps, starting to make our own decisions, that we are most vulnerable of all.

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