Of all the potential culprits for the fiasco of this summer’s A-level results, the controversial Ofqual algorithm that lowered so many grades seems to be particularly despised.
For the aggrieved students who marched on central London to protest, it was the focus of protest chants and placards. Meanwhile, academics and pundits have unpicked how the algorithm has unfairly reinforced social and educational inequalities, sparking discussion on how the fate of individuals is determined by an apparently arbitrary algorithmic bias.
In my view, however, the algorithm is not the problem. Instead, we need to go back to basics and ask some more fundamental questions: what is the purpose of education? And what is the point of exams?
The modern mass education system with exams and grades is a relatively recent invention, introduced to train the workforce, military personnel and state officials. In England the Civil Service examination was introduced by 19th-century prime minister William Gladstone to enable recruitment based on merit rather than patronage. Even then, there were fears that the examination was not a true test of character and it would favour any old oik who was good at Greek and maths.
However, “one of the great recommendations of the change in my eyes,” according to Gladstone, “would be its tendency to strengthen and multiply the ties between the higher classes and the possession of administrative power. I have a strong impression that the aristocracy of this country are even superior in their natural gifts on the average to the mass.”
Has much changed since then? The financial and social success of some university graduates from poorer families have created the belief among the masses that doing well in exams and going to university is a ticket to a better life.
That is why exams matter and why students and their parents were so angered by the downgrading of their A-level results by the algorithm. Missing out on their first choices of university “will destroy their future,” many claimed.
A more telling question, however, is whether students with the required grades are actually prepared for university study or if exams and A-level grades are a meaningful measure of their preparedness.
To study, say, engineering at a university you might be asked to obtain AAA grades in relevant subjects, although in practice you may be admitted in with, say, ABC or less if there are places. Entry grades are often set higher than needed to limit demand or maintain or improve league table position, rather than ensuring better preparedness of students to read for a university degree.
Employers’ recruitment processes already recognise the limitations of grades. They have become ever more elaborate, with psychometric tests, situational judgement tests, presentations and interviews involving highly challenging questions. They don’t seem to trust the grades and degree classification awarded by universities.
So why do we, as universities, still insist on exams and grades? They are becoming largely irrelevant as far as university admissions and employment offers are concerned, especially in this year of coronavirus. They have also become, in the eyes of students and many educators, the end goal itself. Students study primarily to pass exams, which they find stressful, rather than to enjoy learning.
What is the difference in terms of ability and knowledge between a student with an average of 69.4 per cent graduating with a 2.1 degree and another graduating with a first-class degree and average of 69.5 per cent? What does a 50 per cent grade in a particular subject mean? Does it mean that the engineer can only solve half the problems? Or perhaps 50 per cent of his or her designs will be flawed. Would you be happy to fly in an aeroplane designed by an engineer with such a grade?
Education should be a continuous enjoyable endeavour, part of the fabric of society, through which knowledge and skills are passed on and improved by the next generation in a collaborative, not a competitive manner. Examinations and grades should be secondary; a test of preparedness and competence in a less intimidating and more reliable form rather than a means of competitive ranking and social engineering.
Suleiman Sharkh is professor of power electronics, machines and drives at the University of Southampton.
