We Don’t Need No Board Exams

If Kapil Sibal expects wide applause for his proposals to modify schooling in India, he is in for some disappointment

In India, mention of a ‘board’ sends shudders down the spines not of corporate honchos, but teenaged schoolgoers. So when the Union Human Resource Development Minister proposes scrapping a major board examination altogether, the very first taken by school students at the end of class 10, you would expect jubilation across the land. For many, a board exam is the first intimation of adulthood, a time to get serious for a life to be led in the real world. A board exam, students are told in grim tones, is a board exam—it defines your future as a success or failure, setting the tone for the rest of your education, employment, life, liberty and pursuit of happiness.

But if there’s a board exam at the end of class 12, one which actually counts in college admission, why bear the burden of one, two years too soon? It’s Kapil Sibal’s question. But the minister isn’t a teen hero just yet. In Vatakara in Kerala, Akshay Babu, a class 10 student, is faced with the reopening of school at the end of the summer break, and can’t decide if he’s happy about the minister’s proposal. He’s cheerful about shrugging off the board burden, but has worries too. “There is anxiety in my mind about the possible adverse impact of the move,” he says, “I face great difficulty in mathematics. So far, I thought that this is the final year in my life attending maths classes.”

With that, Babu touches upon the principal objection to the idea. Class 10 is the last year in which a student studies the entire range of ‘must’ subjects. After that, one is free to pick specialisations and drop the rest. In a country with such little regard for a broad-based liberal arts education at the graduate level—a system that ends up yielding nerdish rather than leadership skills—dropping the emphasis on a broad education at an early stage could worsen things. Unless, of course, all subjects are kept compulsory all the way to class 12, which would mean dilution of effort in each of them.

Babu’s fear of maths becoming a prolonged agony has to do with the way schools let students pick their specialisations, mostly on the basis of class 10 results. While Kapil Sibal has mentioned that students and not their marks should decide what stream—sciences, arts and so on—they want to pursue after class 10, there is much confusion among students and parents alike.

What the minister wants instead is an internal school exam for class 10, as recommended by the National Curriculum Framework (NCF) in 2005. “When a student has to continue in the same school,” asks Professor Yash Pal, chairman of the NCF committee and former chairman of the University Grants Commission, “what is the point of the tenth board exam?”

High performers have an answer. “Board exams help us prepare for the competition ahead,” says Varun Thomas, 16, of Vasant Vihar High School in Thane. “If board exams are abolished, then students will not be serious about their studies and careers.” His words are echoed by many others who are only too glad to get into the competitive academic race early. For them, Kapil Sibal has a way out: board exams for class 10 could be made optional. This would also help college admission systems where students join junior college after class 10.

Going further, Kapil Sibal has also floated the idea of collapsing India’s myriad boards into a single all-India one. Given that state boards are often seen as inferior to the centrally run Central Board of Secondary Education (CBSE) and Indian School Certificate (ISC), this idea has found some takers. The Assam state board, for example, is strapped for cash and fears it may not even be able to hold its class 10 exams in 2010. Also, such standardisation may help colleges simplify their admission procedures. Some students would be pleased too. “I am from ISC, and I have to compete with students from CBSE and state boards. To compete with them, I have to brush up on my maths and science, as questions for the common entrance tests mostly favour them,” complains Huzefa Zavery, a class 12 student at Bishop Cotton Boys School, Bangalore.

Yet, the common board proposal has also raised hackles. State governments run by Opposition parties are suspicious of any centralisation of curriculum. In terms of legislative ambit, education is on the concurrent list, so the states must okay it for the proposal to go through. Many will not. Moreover, with several schools now offering the option of an International Baccalaureate class 12 certificate, it even goes against the principles of educational diversity and choice. Professor Yash Pal has since clarified that the NCF didn’t recommend a single board at all. He feels that school curricula should be further decentralised.

Of the 34 points in Kapil Sibal’s 100-Day Plan, the most controversial relate to private participation in the sector. While talk of ‘public private partnership’ in school education raises no eyebrows, the issue of allowing foreign universities in India is relatively vexed. Kapil Sibal sees foreign direct investment in education as a priority: “When the demand exists, why should we send our children out? Foreign universities can come to our doorstep. India has the potential to become a global provider of quality graduates.” In February 2007, the Cabinet cleared the Foreign Educational Institutions (Regulation of Entry and Operations, Maintenance of Quality and Prevention of Commercialisation) Bill.

But there’s opposition to it not only from the Left, but also from within the Congress. This can be seen in the criticism levelled at the 100-Day Plan by Jairam Ramesh and Janardan Dwivedi, even as party leaders from Maharashtra, Karnataka and Andhra Pradesh voice worries about intellectual autonomy in case foreign institutions take charge of higher education. Of course, the fact that several domestic institutions are owned by Congressmen only strengthens their support for protectionism in the education sector. They fear a loss of revenues and clout, says a source within the party.

Jairam Ramesh’s objection, though, is a matter of pragmatism. “Our universities are in bad shape and lack infrastructure facilities,” he has said, “We are not even able to pay decent salaries to our teachers. In this situation, allowing foreign universities to open shop is not a practical idea.” Speaking to Open, a Congress Working Committee member has other apprehensions: “Will they fulfil social obligations like reserving seats for students and teachers belonging to weaker sections? Won’t these universities have an undue advantage over indigenous ones, given the widespread craze for foreign degrees among the youth in our country?”

On 29 June, Congress Spokesperson Shakeel Ahmad hinted that the party was in wait-and-watch mode on the minister’s proposals. “The HRD Minister has only given proposals,” he said, “These are still being discussed among teachers, educationists, academicians and others. No final draft has been made so far.”

Undeterred, the minister has more to offer. ‘Expansion, inclusion, excellence’ is his mantra, he avers, and his goals are to widen avenues to higher education, have legislation passed on the right to free and compulsory education, and align madarssa education with the mainstream. That, he says, is his five-year plan.

About The Author

Shivam Vij