Oxford’s exams need an update

In a matter of days, I will face 15 hours of handwritten exams. I will wear a gown that has never truly fitted, because it was made to fit a man, and then I will trek the 20 minutes to Exam Schools, to wait in a queue for up to 45 minutes just to be let into the exam hall. I would say it’s medieval, but I’m a historian and I can’t quite bring myself to. It is, however, distinctly Victorian. 

Right before my Prelims, a very kind professor told me that they are essentially a hangover from the British Empire. They were designed to test how students fare under pressure – essential for those who would one day run the Empire as colonels and generals. This didn’t particularly alleviate my stress – but it does suggest how little Oxford has changed. 

Handwritten exams are fundamentally outdated. I truly see very little reason for a handwritten exam (at least within any essay subject), other than perhaps as some form of suffering. Students are often forced to decide between legible handwriting or writing a full essay – an essay which they are unable to change once it’s written. I have omitted entire paragraphs in the name of time-keeping fairly regularly, only to finish my paper half an hour early (and it’s still barely readable). 

How much difference would typing an exam make? The University has shown it can be done – one of my Prelims was typed and in-person, and it was glorious. It was my highest grade. I still finished quite early, but instead of fruitlessly staring down at a paper that would only get messier with corrections, I was able to rework paragraphs and even change their placement. At least for essay-based exams, I can think of very few reasons why an in-person exam wouldn’t be better typed – for both students and the examiners who need all the skills of Bletchley Park to decipher our handwriting.

I do understand the hesitancy surrounding take-home papers. As much as I believe in the benefits of open-book exams, my own faculty reverted one of their take-home papers to an in-person exam for this year’s final exams, likely due to the risks associated with students misusing AI. It is unfortunate, but until there are both better guidelines for AI use and better AI detection, in-person exams will be necessary. I also know of many people who did not sleep for the entire span of their take-home paper – an unfortunate result of assigning overachievers coursework. However, typed in-person exams are so easy to regulate when it comes to AI use. Blocking websites is easy enough, as is using software that tracks if a student leaves the exam portal. 

Exam conventions and regulations are also borderline ridiculous. In my first year, I thought that being unable to leave in the first and last half hour, not to mention only being allowed to leave the exam hall once, was a myth created to scare freshers. Upon checking the exam regulations, I was slightly horrified to learn that it’s true. I truly see no purpose to these rules other than testing students’ physical capacities – a very Victorian idea indeed. The University seems so aware of stress and anxiety, but seems baffled at the idea of a nervous wee. 

Even more ridiculous is the University’s harsh stance on illness. During second year, my friend was so ill that he physically could not walk to Exam Schools and had to take a taxi, yet he was expected to take exams. He would have received a 0 if he didn’t show up. Of course, it is hard to define a limit when it comes to illness, but the net rule of essentially no allowances is completely absurd. I actually really admire some of the accommodations the University is able to make when given prior notice, but people are ill unexpectedly, which is yet another aspect of the human condition that the University appears blissfully unaware of. 

Perhaps my most personal gripe when it comes to the pomp and circumstance of exams is the gowns. My friend told me I looked like Henry VIII when I tried on my scholar’s gown – and she was right. There was more gown than person. The University website advises that the scholar’s gown should reach the student’s knees – mine was practically floor-length. Largely, this is the result of having to wear a gown designed for young British officers when you’re a 5”2 woman. The first reference to sub fusc is from 1636, a time at which I, as a Jewish woman, would not even have been allowed into England.

Oxford is, to an extent, lovable for its slightly odd, slightly Stuart traditions – perhaps why over ¾ of students voted to keep sub fusc in 2015. I would miss carnations and the feeling of everyone knowing you’re exam-bound whilst in sub fusc. However, I would not miss the hand cramps from hours of writing or the fear of being smothered to death by my gown. Oxford’s exams don’t need an upheaval; but they do need to be brought into the 21st century.