Final exams. Words that strike at the very least some anxiety, at worst crippling panic, in every student’s heart. And yet, we persist in applying examinations in so many aspects of our lives – not just at the end of a school term, but also in various professional settings, for example, to gain certifications, with immigration applications, in job interviews or when seeking promotion. A common thread is that all these exams are high stakes; the result can irreversibly affect the rest of your life. We know that this causes immense stress, yet we continue to rely on this form of assessment. My question is, why? And is there a better way?
As a teacher, I have been strongly opposed to the standard examination format for many years. Let me tell you a little story that cemented this view for me. I was teaching an introductory course in cultural geography. There were some required elements: the course had to have a midterm exam, a term paper, and a final exam. These elements were not negotiable, whether I liked them or not. I had a great class, there were only about 30 students, a number which lends itself well to in-class discussions and conversations which in turn leads to more engaged students and allows for questions to be asked and for deeper learning to happen. There was one student who did well throughout the course: she made good contributions to the discussions, passed the mid-term with flying colours, and wrote an excellent term paper. Going into the final exam she had an A in the course.
But on the day of the exam she showed up looking upset, she was the first to finish, and left in tears. When I graded her exam she had done badly enough to drop her grade from an A to a B. As we all know, this then affects her GPA, which then affects many other things, such as scholarship and grant applications, transfer credits, what other courses she can take, whether she could apply for grad school and so on. This did not sit right with me, so I emailed the student and asked her to come to my office, which she did. I asked her what went wrong with the final, as I had not expected her to do so badly. She broke down in tears and told me that her (now ex) long-term boyfriend had broken up with her the night before the exam. I made the decision to exclude the final from her class grade and instead averaged it out, thus allowing her to keep her A, her high GPA, and her future prospects.
Now I know that some of you will think that I made the wrong decision, that she should have been able to just ‘shake it off’, that her personal life is none of my business, that perhaps she wasn’t telling me the truth. But I would say that even if all of those were true, that doesn’t change one very salient fact: that what she wrote did not tell me what she had learned in the course. All it told me was what her state of mind was on one particular day, at one particular time. And that on that particular day and at that particular time, she was not her best self.
In every course I have taught since that time, in every faculty meeting, at every opportunity, I have pushed back against a final exam. If told that in a particular course the final exam was mandatory, then I would either make it a take-home exam (by far my preference, giving students 24 or 48 hours to complete it), or open book. I told the students what the format would be, and that the main essay-based question would be: tell me what topic, module, or reading in the course you found most engaging, why you found it engaging, what you learned from it, and how it contributed to your understanding of the overall course objectives. Sometimes the answers surprised me, and always I learned something from them. And it reduced the amount of stress my students faced, which to me is invaluable.
I do understand that there are some situations in which examinations are necessary. But wherever possible, skills and learning should be tested over time and be performance-based. Otherwise, all you are really finding out is what the test taker happens to remember at a particular time on a particular day. And there are all kinds of reasons why this might not really tell us what they are capable of. Perhaps they have a migraine, or their cat died, or, as in my student’s case, a significant long-term relationship has come to an unexpected end.
So as we come to the end of another school year, I ask you to reflect on this. Should we give exams a passing grade, or do they fail to fulfill their purpose? Are they an accurate gauge of what our students have learned? Are there ways we can reduce stress and create better outcomes, both in terms of embedded learning and mental health for our students? If you are unconvinced by my arguments, consider this bonus: you won’t have to grade a huge stack of exams! More importantly, perhaps by engaging in these conversations we can create a culture of change in our schools and universities, and in society more broadly, that will lead to a kinder, more compassionate world.
