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When another crisis erupted over their fallen heads, an emergency helpline was established for the scared and bewildered who now find themselves at a breaking point after months of setbacks, mistakes, and unspeakable stress.
Apparently one was created for high school students as well, but they have been swimming in helplines since the summer and are sick of it.
At tea time, the toilet was in operation. A team of ministers, junior ministers and special advisers were available to take the calls and an urgent appeal was made for anyone, anyone, to call with suggestions on how the government could go a whole week without suffering some kind of hassle. calamity.
Because they are all out of ideas. Dial 1800 – Help.
This government is cursed. And yet this Wednesday looked so good, with the Dáil relocated to the sad expanse of the Dublin Convention Center, where political passion is going to die, and the weekly government shame happened the day before at Leinster House.
This was the surprise news that Michael D’Arcy, a junior finance minister in the last administration who stood firm on financial industry issues at the Seanad until last Wednesday, was resigning from the upper house to take on a great job. as CEO. from the Irish Association of Investment Managers. This is not a good image for a government that harms itself and struggles to retain the public’s trust. At least, Mr. D’Arcy’s displeasure seemed to have disappeared from the radar overnight when the Dáil met again. The Opposition allowed Micheál Martin the relative luxury of an interrogation on the government’s housing policy, support payments from Covid, the Media Commission, and the lack of effective sanctions for illegal dumping.
Probing questions
He navigated through the leaders’ questions. But then Labor’s Alan Kelly came out in a disturbing way with some probing questions about the Leaving Cert results appeal process, wondering if the suspected errors in the grade calculations were true and if a helpline was being established for students because, he noted grimly, the Department of Education “seems to have suddenly collapsed.”
The Taoiseach didn’t quite say “I’m glad you asked me that question”, but he quickly stood up and replied “Yes indeed, the Department of Education and Skills has found, to my understanding, two errors in the Leaving certificate. … ”The Minister of Education would make a“ comprehensive statement ”later in the afternoon“ in terms of what happened ”.
And yes, some of the students may receive “updates” as a result of these errors and “will be told first.”
Move here now. Nothing to see.
Kelly was stunned by the answer. It was the way the Taoiseach delivered it: in fact, aware that the information she was imparting would lead to trouble.
It was a strange moment, because while this exchange was taking place, the immobile figure of Michael Healy-Rae was framed in the corner of the television socket, his head and black cap thrown back and his mouth wide open and catching flies.
Amid the most recent rocket to bring down the Government again, Healy-Rae appeared to be sound asleep – another TD succumbed to the siren call of the soft seats and dim lights in the warm and comfortable Convention Center theater. For most of the 10 minutes, her open-mouthed silhouette and flat cap screamed from the other end of the dress circle. You were probably up the middle of the night watching the Trump / Biden horror show in Ohio.
If Micheál thought Kelly, aka AK47, would park the problem after his windy confirmation of the latest annoyance the students suffered, he was sadly wrong.
As soon as the agenda moved to the Taoiseach Questions, Kelly ignored the topic of discussion (cabinet committees) and got stuck. He was completely shocked and ready to let go. “It’s hard for me to talk about anything else today,” he began, before bravely mustering the will to continue.
“Absolute error”. “Extraordinary.” “Any other government at any other time, this would bring it down.”
The ramifications are “huge”. “How in God’s name did this happen … How did the department not see this?” All delivered with long theatrical pauses.
Richard Boyd-Barrett and Mary Lou McDonald were lining up to crowd.
“A gigantic mistake.” RBB roared. “An inexplicable mistake.”
“Last fight of the class of 2020,” cried Mary Lou.
“There is no point in being half-hearted,” Micheál pleaded.
The national national brain is confused.
Is it half cocked? On the radio, Liveline phones had already exploded. “I want to get my points back,” an outraged student yelled.
Calculated grades? “A calculated mess,” shouted Labor’s own Foghorn Leghorn back in the Dáil.
Oh, but Micheál looked miserable again. But it was not the fault of his government. Some people in Canada got the coding wrong. It was a technical error. And it was Leo Varadkar’s administration that introduced the whole problem of calculated grades in the first place.
“Very, very unfortunate” Micheál sighed, mortified by everyone. “Trust me,” he groaned, his hand on his heart, “it’s not something I want to hear, or what anyone wants to hear, least of all the students themselves.”
He would have to take Norma Foley to the Dáil to explain herself. But she will make her big statement at four, the Taoiseach explained.
The Government should have told the Opposition about the problem when it first found out. By the way, Mary Lou asked, when was that?
“Hey, last week, I don’t have a specific day.”
“And you kept a lot to yourselves,” Mary Lou snorted, echoing Foghorn Leghorn’s view of the government’s lack of communication about the mistake.
The media were then told to go to Marlborough Street for the minister’s explanation. They had to sit in a large room behind desks, like immature students. She was usually shown walking into the press conference, wearing a mask and holding a large black bag that was stuffed to the seams, perhaps with the shattered dreams of the Coalition Government.
He explained what happened in a clear, calm and competent manner. Everything will be in order. The Department of Education is in charge.
What could go wrong?
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