It’s that time of year again.
In houses the length and breadth of Britain (as well
as one or two further afield) suitcases are being packed, books of tests dusted
off, instruction papers rooted out, calculators primed, packets of post-it
notes, new pens and refills replenished and batteries checked and new ones bought. Hotel and flight bookings are being
confirmed, passports are being retrieved, taxis booked to the airport, train
tickets purchased and Satnavs primed. Yes;
the music examiners are on the march!
The period between October and December has traditionally
been the busiest for the music examining industry, and while the huge growth in
candidate numbers and ancillary services, especially in south and southeast
Asia, has substantially increased the examiner’s workload over the year, this period
is still the biggie; the time when even the most reluctant examiners,
fulfilling their obligation to “offer a minimum of three weeks”, have no choice
but to get down and dirty in the examination circus.
I no longer examine for either of the big exam boards
and I have to confess I miss it dreadfully.
I used to love that moment, just as summer was ending, when the letter
would drop through the door (in later years it became an email) detailing the
places and dates of my autumn examining tour.
I never asked to go anywhere nor expressed any sort of preference –
indeed rumour had it that if you did, you were guaranteed never to go there –
and I was thrilled when the list came, sometimes even having to get out the map
to see where, precisely, I would be heading off to in a few months’ time.
I enjoyed the travelling, even when, at the height of
my examining career, I was doing upwards of 20 long-haul flights and checking
into anything up to 50 different hotels a year.
I enjoyed that frisson of excitement arriving at a new hotel wondering whether
the room would be palatial with spa bath and ocean view, or cramped with
resident cockroaches and a view and whiff of the kitchen waste bins. I enjoyed sending out the preliminary letter
to the local representatives telling them that I liked black coffee with no
sugar in the morning and white tea with no sugar in the afternoon, that I never
ate when examining and that I would be arriving on such and such a day and
would be at such and such a hotel to receive my week’s papers. I enjoyed meeting the stewards and helpers
who worked so hard to ensure the examining day went off smoothly. I loved being able to go back to the hotel
after a seven hour day and know that I had nothing left to do until
tomorrow. But most of all I loved
hearing the candidates and using the resources of my professional judgement to
offer them worthwhile assessments.
An examining day of almost seven hours continual listening
and writing is not everybody’s idea of fun, but I found it so, I relished the chance I had to make a
difference, to inspire and to encourage and, sometimes, to point out faults and
problems. Direct feedback was rare, but when an accidental meeting with a
teacher resulted in a comment like; “I’m so glad you wrote what you did. I’ve been trying to get my student to do that
for months! She will probably do it now
that the examiner has said it too!” I felt that all the agony of listening to
nervous, terrified candidates had been worth it. Occasionally one made mistakes, but I, like
all of my colleagues, had just one goal; to give as fair and balanced
assessment of whatever performance was thrown at us, and thereby encourage
candidates to improve the standard of their music-making.
That, though, is no longer what is wanted. Professional judgement is viewed with suspicion
in an environment where commercial pressures dominate. The examination fee is not seen as payment
for professional service, but as purchase of a commodity. That commodity is a result which reflects not
reality but aspiration. The examiner can
no longer write a carefully-worded report and issue a supporting mark in the
knowledge that it will be accepted as a professional’s considered judgement. Instead, restrained by increasingly
conflicting and unrealistic instructions from an office-based administration
with a clerical background largely separate from musical or educational
experience, the examiner has to write a bland and largely meaningless report in
order to forestall any complaint from those who have to be regarded not as
teachers or students, but as clients and customers.
Examination boards have become so focused on avoiding
complaints that they are in danger of losing their very raison d’être. Already among teachers in south east Asia it is widely
believed that if you do not like the result the examiner has issued, you only
need to complain and it is almost automatically revised upwards by a London-based
administration, terrified in case, in the hugely competitive environment which
is now the music examination landscape of the region, they lose to the rival
board that client and the potential customers in its circle of influence.
Seen from the outside, music exams are a strange and
wholly unnatural phenomenon. They serve
no obvious musical purpose and stand in the way of artistic development. Lessons have to be adapted to suit the
demands of the examination syllabus, rather than the musical and educational needs
of the individual student. When a
teacher told me that she was preparing a student for an examination, I asked her
why. “You need to do examinations”, she
eventually told me, having found my question remarkably inane. “That’s the only
way students can progress”. How bitterly
Bach, Haydn, Mozart and Beethoven must be feeling now; had they taken exams as
students, what might they not have achieved as musicians?
For many students and teachers, however, exams are a
valuable means of gauging progress and achievement. But what value does it have when you regard
the examiner’s report not as an assessment of achievement but as the opening bid
in an extended negotiation to obtain the mark the customer wants. I pity my former colleagues; what pleasure is
there in examining when you know your professional judgement is regarded as immaterial?
On behalf of all your former colleagues and all music examiners everywhere, thank you.
ReplyDeleteHi Dr Marc, may i have your email or contact no. Would like to invite you to our upcoming concert conducted by maestro darrell ang. Could you contact via email at wong_deli@dingyimusic.com or 81184974
ReplyDeleteHi Dr Marc, may i have your email or contact no. Would like to invite you to our upcoming concert conducted by maestro darrell ang. Could you contact via email at wong_deli@dingyimusic.com or 81184974
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