Leah Pennisi-Glaser

In defence of ‘traditional’ exams

Students in Bradford celebrate the end of their exams (Getty)

You might think that students will be celebrating the news that universities could be moving away from ‘traditional’ exams in favour of “inclusive assessments,” which include open-book tests and take-home papers. They shouldn’t. 

I was one of the unfortunate Covid crop of undergraduates who didn’t sit a single exam during their time at university. Yes, I avoided the last-minute nerves about what was going to be in the exam paper – and I saved time not needing to cram during last-minute revision. But the truth is that avoiding exams devalued my degree, so much so that I didn’t bother going to my graduation ceremony.

Avoiding exams devalued my degree, so much so that I didn’t bother going to my graduation ceremony

I was supposed to graduate with a degree in geography from the University of Edinburgh in the summer of 2023. But during my time as a student, two calamitous events occurred: one an act of God, Covid-19; the other, the Marking and Assessment Boycott (MAB), which meant that none of my coursework was marked. The graduation ceremony itself was a farce, with the Dean handing out empty degree scrolls to disgruntled students.

I thought I had simply been unlucky in my university experience, but I now think things are about to get a whole lot worse. The Office for Students (OfS) has signed off on ‘Access and Participation Plans’ to potentially change the way that students like me are assessed.

During the pandemic, in-person exams weren’t allowed. That was, for a time, understandable. Allowances had to be made – and, in truth, we students knew we were getting an easier ride. But we’re no longer living through a pandemic and the universities’ current proposal is ridiculous.

The purported reason for these changes appears to be an effort to help minority and poorer students. But this doesn’t stand up. Yes, there is an attainment gap between advantaged and disadvantaged students when it comes to achieving a 2:1 or above at university, but the reason for this gap is unclear. To assume it’s because disadvantaged students can’t handle rigorous testing is patronising and wrong.

Perhaps a more likely explanation for the gap in attainment is that many students from poorer backgrounds have to work part-time jobs to fund their studies. This was certainly true at the University of Edinburgh, a notoriously expensive city where the private rental market jumped considerably during the course of my four-year degree. The government’s maintenance loans often barely covered the rent.

There’s also another issue which this shake-up fails to address: if students don’t have to sit exams, how will the universities crack down on the growing problem of those paying others to write essays for them?

It was common knowledge at Edinburgh that some wealthy students used essay mills, employing others to write their work for them. Yes, it’s cheating, and if discovered is grounds for immediate expulsion at most universities, but the truth is that it’s nearly impossible to catch the buyers because everything’s conducted online and the sellers are savvy. The one upside is that because the price point for purchasing essays is so high, only a small number of students can afford them. But the same cannot be said for AI, which is, in effect, cheating’s great leveller.

I was in my final year and at a party with a number of European students when I first learnt of ChatGPT. “Everyone’s going to use it in the future. It’ll be the new Google”, an excited Sorbonne student informed me.

“Yes, ask it anything and you’ll have an essay in seconds”, an Italian bloke chimed in. 

But aren’t you concerned about people cheating at university, I asked. 

“Well, no, in France we sit exams,” he replied, looking a little bemused.

“In Italy, also. We have oral tests too.” 

 I saw students misuse AI from the get-go; it confirmed my view that the path to upholding academic standards starts in the exam hall. No one likes exams, but having not sat my finals I know I missed out.

I technically graduated one November evening. The MAB strike had finally come to an end, and I got my certificate. I didn’t look at it with any pride or sense of achievement. It felt as hollow as the scroll I skipped on collecting. If students never have to sit an exam once they get to university, their degrees will be meaningless.

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