Once upon a time (the traditional start to a fairy story as well as an expression of time which somehow still roots a story in history) I worked as an Exams Officer in a school, a job I loved. I loved the order of the role. I loved the satisfaction of having a list of activities I could tick off when completed. I loved the serenity of this world and the sense of regulation, captured in my trusty yellow ICE booklet (‘Instructions for the Conduct of Examinations.’) I loved the peace and quiet of the exam room when invigilating, a place where silence and industry reigned.
But with hindsight I see that my ordered, peaceful world, my little personal fiefdom of control, was really quite surreal and largely unimportant in the wider view of life. Life is about far more than examination codes and numbers or grades on certificates to encapsulate achievement. It’s impossible to capture learning in this way and quite harmful to regulate achievement to a piece of paper.
The system, which helps us to label and categorise people against an arbitrary ‘norm’ (which in itself changed each year as ‘grade boundaries’ were determined by awarding bodies so that there was very little statistical uniformity, despite outward appearances), is sadly lacking in terms of really knowing or understanding the capability of individuals. I used to teach French GCSE and became frustrated with a system that rewarded work over fluency and accuracy. I don’t pretend to have solutions to this system, but became convinced that learning and passing exams were not at all synonymous.
Now I have left the exam room and work in a messy, unmeasurable world, which often leaves me frustrated and unsure of myself (how can I assess my efficiency and worth if I can’t tick all those boxes?!) How do you measure competence in the spiritual realm? The desire to measure-by-numbers is ingrained in me (X people attended this event, Y people were baptised this year), but this is still not the way to live. Maturity, faith and love are the new goals, but these look very different in different people.
Paul tells the Corinthians that competence does not come from ourselves, but from God. (2 Cor 3:5) Now clearly we all have certain skills and can claim competence in different fields. But when it comes to spiritual matters, there’s a different yardstick involved, for we deal now with matters of the Spirit, where the letter kills but the Spirit gives life. (2 Cor 3:6)
‘The letter kills.’ So my ticklists, charts, ‘outcomes’ and ‘evaluation sheets’ don’t really help in this world.
‘The Spirit gives life.’ Instead, I have to rely on God for lasting ‘results’ and must learn to judge by different standards and see through different eyes.
It’s not easy. Trained for years to be able to measure knowledge and skills through written or practical examinations, now I operate in a much messier, less easily defined world. Yet somehow I feel this is the real world and the other is not quite as idyllic as I want to believe.
Perhaps this is why I spend so much time banging the drum about creativity and working with the arts. There, skills are needed, but so is what I term ‘the divine spark’. That can’t be taught or easily measured. It can simply be recognised, nurtured, loved, admired and respected.
So today, I embrace messiness and creativity and stand firm against any notion that achievement can be recorded simply by an exam result. We are more than a number.
