One of the great clichés of the past few months is how "we're all in this together".
Of course, the reality is that the various different demographic groups have been increasingly at each other's throats. Elderly people who feel discriminated against by some of the latest lockdown restrictions have been told to suck it up and stop whining. People who want to get back to work before they lose their jobs forever have been condemned as heartless monsters who secretly want to kill everyone else.
Then there's the young people who were due to sit their Leaving in a few weeks' time.
Let's be honest, everyone enjoys ragging on the kids. But while there has been a lot of eye-rolling and sneering at the mental torment the current generation have been feeling, it's impossible not to sympathise with anyone who has spent the past two years studying their butts off only to be told that all their efforts have been wasted.
As the nation steps back and begins to re-examine the systems we used to employ, there has been a growing momentum for complete reform of the Leaving Cert.
Is it too stressful? Is it fair to decide someone's entire future on the basis of a few sweaty hours in an exam hall?
Well, as a grumpy Gen X-er, I'm obviously inclined to say... yes, yes it is fair. After all, most of us who went through the Leaving are bitter and vengeful and if we had to sit through that bloody endurance test then the younglings should share the pain.
If that makes me sound unusually callous and twisted, then you haven't read this column before - callous and twisted is how we roll.
But the calls for reform of the mincing machine should, I grudgingly admit, be welcomed. Should we adopt a more holistic approach to modern education? Should we start introducing life skills? Perhaps more importantly, should we change the way the subjects themselves are taught?
After all, I didn't receive an education in the Irish language. It was more akin to a weird form of aversion therapy, and one that made me loathe the language until TG4 came along and replaced Peig with the far more entertaining shenanigans of Ros Na Rún.
We could go even further. I am, to be honest, utterly useless at being a bloke. I'm pretty sure I am one, because I've checked. But I'm spectacularly inept at performing all but the most basic functions. I have never driven a car. I've never even turned the ignition key, or whatever it's called. I certainly could have done with some basic driving lessons in school, the way they do in America.
Perhaps a basic beginner's course in manual labour could be a new addition. I once tried to change a plug and somehow, much to my surprise, managed to cause a fire when I put the plug in the socket and nearly torched the house.
Men are supposed to be good at reading maps - I once tried to read a map on holiday in Hawaii and nearly directed us off a cliff and into the Pacific, which would have been an undeniably cool way to die but my wife, who was driving at the time, would probably disagree.
As we face into life post-Covid, we've been warned of a potential global food shortage and that we're looking at a future of being able to eat nothing but twigs. Why don't schools start teaching kids how to fish? I love fishing more in the idea than in the practice and I seem to have an unearthly talent for getting the hook caught in the back of my head, so some instruction on how to fish without taking lumps out of yourself would have come in handy.
In fact, when it comes to these predicted food shortages, all schools should start teaching all kids how to cook. As the late, great Anthony Bourdain once explained to me over many, many beers - that crashing noise you just heard was the sound of me dropping yet another name - by the time a man turns 18, he should know how to roast a chicken, cook the perfect steak and create a casserole.
If lockdown reports are to believed, the only thing kids today can cook is banana bread, and man can't live on banana bread alone.
Do we really need maths at all? I suppose we do, and there's no doubt that an inability to add two and two makes it difficult to figure out how much a round of drinks costs. But when you consider that the Bank of England's chief economist, Andy Haldane, admitted on Wednesday that he was rubbish at sums in school, you see that people can still navigate their way through life if they own a calculator.
No, in the admittedly unlikely event that I will ever become Minister for Education, my reign of error would include some sweeping new innovations. No maths if calculus gives you a headache. No Irish unless you really want to suffer. History to be taught through the medium of the History Channel, which would give kids an in-depth knowledge of the Nazis, if nothing else.
No obligatory testing, a focus on self-sufficiency and free lessons in cooking the perfect steak. Granted, we'd create with a generation of illiterates who can't add or subtract.
But think of all the lovely steaks they could make. You know it makes sense.