Exams without proper learning
In the old days
Pass mark quotas
Even in my schooldays, exams were regarded as important; however, it was recognised that the purpose they served was to show whether people who took those exams had learned the subject in sufficient depth. To protect the integrity of exams, the GCE examination boards imposed percentage quotas on pass marks, and those quotas applied to all GCE examination boards. I believe that these quotas meant that irrespective of how many students took the exams, 70% (or whatever the quota was) would pass and the rest would fail. I think there were also quotas for individual grades but I'm not sure. This may seem harsh, but it was never likely that one year's students would be better or worse overall than another year's students. The one thing it ensured was a fair test, because examination papers varied from one year to another (otherwise students would know the questions in advance and could prepare accordingly) and from one examination board to another. If the exam set by one board was more difficult than that set by another, however marginally, the same percentage of students would succeed with each board. So there was nothing to be gained by anybody - the schools, the students or the examination boards - in trying to fix things in any direction.
Broad syllabus, random questions
The other important aspect of education and training in the old days was that the syllabus was usually fairly broadly based, so you couldn't normally tell what the questions were likely to be. There were exceptions, and I almost got a pass in English Literature that I didn't really deserve because of it. In that particular case, I failed the exam twice but tried for a third time. On each of the three occasions, Gerald Durrell's Overloaded ark was one of the two books that were part of the exam; it was also the only school book I ever enjoyed. On the first two occasions, there had been two questions about the book and I had to choose one to answer. Looking at what had been asked on those occasions, I figured the obvious question that hadn't been asked was about an ape called Cholmondeley to whom a whole chapter of the book was devoted. I had no inside information and could have been wrong, so of course I revised allowing for that possibility, but I chiefly focused on that one chapter. The question I wanted was there and I ended up writing two and a half pages of foolscap about it. Unfortunately I hated the other book, Terence Rattigan's Winslow boy, and wrote very little about that so I still failed the exam. However, that exam was in any case a rare event. I was only able to figure out a likely question because I'd failed the exam twice before, and because the same book was still in the syllabus. Had I stayed on at school and tried for a fourth time, my beloved book would no longer have been there.
The eleven plus exam
At one time, every Brit had to sit the eleven plus exam in their final year at primary school as part of the process of deciding who should go on to grammar school and who should go on to secondary modern school. I believe that the eleven plus exam alone was enough in some cases, but I was interviewed by the grammar school headmaster along with many others. Ill-prepared for such an ordeal, I failed the interview utterly and ended up at secondary modern along with those who failed the eleven plus exam. There, I came across a few others who clearly had the ability required for grammar school, but I never asked why they ended up at secondary modern. After a year or maybe two, the secondary modern was re-designated a comprehensive and the eleven plus exam ceased to be taken in Chippenham. Despite the change, nothing actually changed for me; any changes only affected younger children.
Although I passed the eleven plus exam itself, I still didn't go to grammar school so the selection system clearly failed me and I have been somewhat ambivalent about the merits of the system ever since, especially as I could see when I got to secondary modern school that I wasn't the only one who the system failed. On the other hand, I saw nothing wrong with the basic concept of selection by ability and still don't. Others, especially on the left, were then and remain strongly opposed to selection by ability and thereby sowed the seeds for policy changes that eliminate as far as possible the ability factor. Only now am I discovering the full implications.
The intervening 40 years
The percentage quotas for pass rates were abolished, not because the examination boards wanted that to happen, but because the government of the day demanded it. The green light had been given to the dumbing down process. Not only did exams become progressively easier, but teaching methods changed. Instead of teaching in the traditional way, encouraging students to learn, students were taught to pass exams. Teachers discouraged any students from taking exams theat they were unlikely to pass. In some cases, borderline students may also have been discouraged as the obsession with pass rates accelerated.
The 2010/11 SAGE course
Designed for tortoises
This course started more slowly than any course I have ever attended. It may have seemed even slower than it actually was because it was one of those part-time courses that only occupy 2 hours a week. (Actually, it took me almost an hour and a half to get there and back, but that's a side issue.) However, it's not the first time I've been on such a course and I know why it was slow to get going.
Preliminary tests
First, there were an interminable series of tests to eliminate anybody who was not up to it. I don't like it and feel that everybody should be entitled to start the course. I remember being on a computer programming course in 1996 where students gradually dropped out as either they realised that they weren't up to it or for some other reason; about half the students stayed to the end. Some of them may have appreciated being able to take a preliminary test to decide suitability, if they weren't sure. In some circumstances, I might appreciate a voluntary test, and perhaps my forklift test drive was such an example, but that was a case where I already had deep misgivings about the idea anyway. In most cases, I'd learn more by starting a course and having to drop out than I ever would do by being forbidden from attending a course. At least I'd feel that I had tried and failed, and that I'd learned (albeit maybe not understood) enough to understand that it wasn't for me. Being denied entry to a course presents an entirely different scenario.
As I implied in my comments about that 1996 course, some of the drop-outs may not have been related to ability, Maybe it just didn't appeal to them, or maybe other circumstances in their life caused them to abandon the course. I didn't discuss it with them, being merely another student, but while I suspect that most dropped out because they weren't up to it, I can't be sure. In any case, preliminary tests could never be absolutely conclusive. It might be possible for some people to fail a preliminary test and still do well on the course. Eliminating those people without letting them start the course is brutally unfair. Of course, these tests are not carried out to prevent the students suffering unduly, but to artificially inflate pass rates. If you prevent everybody from starting a course who you think might fail, and I do mean might, not will, then you should get close to 100% pass rate, but this creates its own problems as I'll explain.
All talk and no action
Having got through the tests, the second problem was that we weren't allowed to do anything much for several lessons. The tutor took up a lot of time lecturing about all sorts of things and my mind drifted to the old fable about the hare and the tortoise. Relating myself to the hare, I realised that the tortoise was likely to win this race. The grindingly slow pace in the first few weeks killed whatever enthusiasm I had for the course, especially as we were given information about criteria for obtaining a pass.
Exam pass criteria
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Awarding of passes
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Analysis of exam pass criteria
At first glance, it all seems fair enough, but closer inspection shows how education and training have been dumbed down over the years. In the old days, you could make errors and still pass exams, because they were stiff enough to provide a proper test. Level 1 is really quite simple and that is why they won't allow you to pass that level if you make processing errors. Level 2 is more difficult, but even here only one or two errors (literally) are acceptable. Since there were percentage quotas for passes in the old days, the actual number of allowable errors was not fixed, but anybody who took exams back then knows that they passed some exams while getting things wrong.
I certainly have no problem with the categorisation of errors, except for an issue with typographical errors. I do have a problem with the concept of 100% pass rate and this proved to be my undoing. I get the impression that I made a solitary error that made the difference between pass and fail. I would have had to pay twenty-five pounds to re-sit the exam and was not allowed to sit Level 2 exam unless I first passed Level 1, even though the Level 2 paper includes a complete re-run of Level 1. I had given the matter some thought before I knew the result and had decided that I would not re-sit Level 1. If a situation arises where I need a SAGE qualification, I'll have to find another way of acquiring it. The software itself is not a problem for me. The problem lies with the exam system, which is not about ability but about other factors. The tutor conceded that high levels of concentration are required to achieve 100% pass rate. If exams are to be assessed on concentration levels rather than ability levels, they won't always produce the right results.
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