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One of the things really being laid bare in the school results fiasco is the widespread belief that high-stakes final exams are the 'real' measure of achievement (or even ability). Here's my take on this, as a high performer from a culture that loves high-stakes exams.
The Soviet and post-Soviet education system was/is built on the premise that the best will float to the top, as measured by unbelievably rigorous assessment. There is no real ceiling to how high you can go in the right school. The top schools will give you uni level material.
The flip side is that equality of outcomes is not something that the system particularly cares about. It's a bit like elite sport, laser-focused on weeding out everyone but the top 'talent'. Whether you get there by brainpower, grit or privilege isn't a consideration.
So high-stakes assessment is the order of the day, and it is brutal. You make it or you sink.
How did this play out for me? I went to a very high-achieving, selective school. I was a high achiever across the board, and that is what you do if you are one of those.
How did this play out for me? I went to a very high-achieving, selective school. I was a high achiever across the board, and that is what you do if you are one of those.
(How selection and gatekeeping works in that sort of system is fascinating, but a distraction in the present context.) The thing to know is that back then all universities ran their own entrance exams. So basically the teaching aimed to get you through those exams for top unis.
That was a big reason I *loathed* Russian Lit lessons. Exams for most humanities subjects included a Russian Lit essay, a very tightly prescribed genre focused on technical analysis. Of course, it is taken under exam conditions with no access to the text.
So Russian Lit at my top school was four years of learning and practising that genre. None of your appreciation of literature, certainly none of that creative writing fluff. I hated it.
But I was good at it, because, well, that's what you do.
But I was good at it, because, well, that's what you do.
If there had been a grade prediction system, I would certainly be predicted a top grade. But that didn't matter because what mattered was the three hours in a hot exam hall in July.
(This worked both ways. I wasn't a hotshot in maths, and kept bumping along on the grade boundary in coursework, but one good exam and you were home and dry with the final mark.)
The stakes were high. (For a male school leaver unable to either secure a uni place or pay a bribe, the conscription office was the next stop.) I got the top mark (and, under the rules, was admitted directly, without having to sit the remaining exams.)
My best friend from school was officially the country's top Russian Lit school pupil (we have competitions for thar, because of course we do). Twice. She didn't get the top mark and had to sit further exams. I still have no idea how that happened.
Did the performance on that exam reflect our comparative 'achievement' or 'ability'? The hell it did. It reflected, mostly, sheer dumb luck. But the potential consequences were still brutally stark.
That experience has made me a firm believer in the apparently loony lefty idea that high-stakes exams test mostly the ability to sit exams. This is not to say that they can't be useful (or at least practical) for assessment, within reasonable bounds.
But given the huge weight we put on key points like transfer tests, maths and English GCSEs, and of course terminal qualifications, I find it absolutely crazy that final high stakes exams are still fetishized as the one true measure of the pupil.
PS- My friend is, to no-one's surprise, a successful Russian Lit academic. I, on the other hand, still struggle to engage with literature: I much prefer non-fiction even for pleasure, and have to make an effort to read something else even once in a while. (I'm not proud of this.)
