Around 40 years ago, something happened to me at school that transformed my educational experience for the rest of my primary school years.
After a routine visit from the local parish priest - one of those regular but deeply dreaded events that invariably featured a rapid fire question-and-answer session based around the Brown Catechism - the relieved teacher determined that I had been the star of the show.
She said as much as she dragged me up to the front of the classroom after the priest was gone, from where I beheld my classmates mostly glaring at me in undisguised resentment.
They presumably knew I hated Catechism as much as anyone but I was just far too afraid of the teacher not to learn it off verbatim.
No matter, I was now elevated to the status of near-saint, or at least an expert on all matters religious. My reward was being liberated from the daily half-hour Catechism class that happened each day at 12, after the Angelus, on the grounds I didn't need it.
From then onward, the teacher said, I could spend this time, which everyone else had to devote to rote-learning of the Confiteor, on duties such as "organising the classroom". This turned out to mostly mean doing the things she couldn't be bothered doing, like unpinning crusty old artwork from the walls and replacing it with something a bit more current. It was tedious but still a damn sight better craic than the Brown Catechism. I made sure to work very slowly.
By dint of this new routine, it somehow became an accepted fact I was exempted from Catechism for the rest of my primary school life.
At a time when nobody was ever spared anything religious at school - and unfortunate girls who forgot to bring in their own "mantillas" for the weekly Mass had to wear scraps of yellowed lace from the deputy principal's ancient tablecloth on their heads instead - this was nothing short of a small miracle.
It was with this in mind that I read this week of a major re-evaluation of the primary school curriculum.
It seems schools are finally considering the possibility of reducing the time devoted to religious education at primary level (albeit minimally) to make way for subjects that might carry a broader application, like modern languages, or coding.
What a wonderful opportunity for change.
A whole new set of proposals have been published by the National Council for Curriculum and Assessment this week, designed to replace an existing curriculum now 21 years old.
There is now to be a consultation period until the end of October, with the new curriculum expected to take effect for the class of 2025.
All sorts of novelties are envisaged in this promising-sounding document. Subjects like PE and Social Personal and Health Education are being subsumed into a new area called Wellbeing, to which three hours will be devoted each week.
There is talk of reducing the requirement that denominational schools devote at least two and a half hours a week to the teaching of religion to two hours (I suspect plenty of parents would support whittling that back even further).
The whole idea of the new curriculum is to confront "challenges, changing needs and priorities". The wellbeing segment will support children to value positive and healthy relationships with others, the framework states. This will include "acquiring an understanding of human sexuality that is balanced and connected".
The document also suggests up to seven hours' teaching each week would be unassigned, to be allocated to subject areas as individual schools see fit.
It further moots the exciting notion of introducing modern language teaching from third class onward.
If it were up to me, I'd start even earlier. Given how dramatically quickly the sponge-like brains of young children can acquire new language skills, I've never quite understood why we hold off so long in introducing some French or German into the mix.
In this we are weirdly closer to monolingual Boston than to Berlin - essentially we are wildly out of kilter with most of our EU neighbours.
A recent survey found more than 70pc of Irish adults speak no foreign language at all and even secondary schools have trouble recruiting language teachers. We have a gap to fill, for sure.
Of course it's not the first time the teaching of modern languages in primary schools has come up as a proposal.
The 1998 Modern Languages in Primary School Initiative supported modern languages in fifth and sixth class in more than 550 schools across the country. But it was dropped in 2011, despite the fact that, since as far back as 2002, the EU Commission has been pushing a goal for citizens of being able to speak their mother tongue plus two other languages.
In 2015, research found 19 million primary school pupils (or 84pc) in the European Union were studying at least one foreign language.
In Cyprus, Luxembourg, Malta and Austria, 100pc of primary school children attended language classes. In France - where children start learning foreign languages in pre-school - it was 99.2 pc. And there were a million children in the EU studying two foreign languages or more.
Maybe the disparity is understandable. The fact English is by far the most popular language in Europe, studied by 17.5 million pupils, doubtless largely explains our own tardiness in this matter.
The time devoted to teaching Irish is another barrier, but one that's surely not insurmountable.
The thing is that things learned as children have a habit of staying with us, even if we'd sort of rather they didn't. At 80, my mother, whose 1940s education was clearly classically influenced, was still able to conjugate a Latin verb.
And I can still recite most of the Confiteor, even after dropping out of Catechism classes before my time. But I rather wish I had learnt the Spanish alphabet instead.
Here's hoping the class of 2025 gets that valuable chance.