The business of exams

Are British children over-tested?

They certainly take many more exams than ever before. A generation ago they took just two public tests (O- and A-levels) at 16 and 18. In 1988 the new National Curriculum introduced Key Stage tests (known as SATs) at ages seven, 11 and 14, and replaced O-levels with GCSEs; Labour later added another test at age five. The old oasis of an exam-free lower sixth-form year - prized by students and teachers alike - no longer exists. In 2000, the old A-level course was divided in two. Students take AS levels in the first year. If they pass (they can re-sit as often as they want), they sit the harder A2 exams in their final year.

So who sets all these exams?

Thirty years ago, they were set and marked by a welter of small university boards, enabling schools to pick and choose O- and A-level syllabuses to match their own preferences. But by 2000, these had consolidated into three huge non-profit bodies covering England (one of which, the OCR, merged the old Oxford and Cambridge Boards with the Royal Society of Arts). All three are supervised by an agency set up by Labour in 1997 called the Qualifications and Curriculum Authority (QCA), which monitors standards and sets the curriculum (Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland have their own boards).

Did the system cope with the sheer volume of testing?

No, not least because, while the number of exams skyrocketed, the number of qualified markers has remained almost unchanged. The annual series of exam crises that ensued culminated in the A-level grading fiasco of 2002, in which thousands of sixth formers were given the wrong marks. That led to the resignation of Education Secretary Estelle Morris and the demand that the QCA overhaul the whole system of marking and make it much more business-like.

And what steps were taken in pursuit of that goal?

A tough new chief executive for the QCA, Ken Boston, who promised root-and-branch reform of what he dubbed "a 19th-century cottage industry", was parachuted in from Australia. And a few months later, when a well-known commercial company - the media giant Pearson, owner of the FT - offered to buy one of the three big non-profit exam bodies (Edexcel), Ken Boston and the QCA were only too happy to agree to the idea. Several academics accused the QCA of sacrificing a public service to the profit motive, but the arguments fell on deaf ears. As the QCA's chairman, Sir Anthony Greener (a former stalwart of the drinks and tobacco industries), insisted: "We are serving the children of UK PLC."

What was Pearson's trump card?

Computer systems. Pearson's educational arm claimed the technology it had developed for the giant US exam market meant it could provide faster, cheaper and less errorprone marking – music to the ears of the QCA, given the logjam it faced in Britain. Pearson’s plan not only involved globalising the process (in 2004, GCSE papers were farmed out to markers in Iowa and Sydney, while data input teams in Malaysia collated the results); it also removed human intervention from some of the marking since its computer-based "e-assessment systems" not only processed multiple choice tests, but also graded essays on content, syntax, style and spelling. Worries that this put pressure on teachers to teach by machine-recognisable formulae were answered by saying that the technology enabled schools to get instant and detailed feedback on pupil performance; and besides, the majority of written answers would still involve human examiners.

Did the commercialisation of exam-marking end there?

No. When the QCA put the SATs contract up for auction last year, its eye fell on an American outfi t called Educational Testing Service (ETS), that claimed to offer an even better service than Pearson. Established in 1947, ETS has transformed itself from a small, scholarly non-profi t institution into a global examinations juggernaut, largely thanks to the multi-millionaire former DuPont executive, Kurt Landgraf, who bought the organisation in 2000 and injected it with a dose of business smarts. ETS is still ostensibly non-profi t, but the engines of its growth are its many for-profit commercial arms which extend into 180 countries and offer many more services than exams. In Britain, for instance, ETS runs the Home Office's English language tests for immigrants.

And what was the outcome?

The QCA was bowled over by ETS, which had undercut rival bidders by £9m, and was given the £156m contract. Sir Anthony Greener called the deal a "case study" in "best practice", even though the record of ETS mismanagement abroad should have been cause for concern. But no one could have anticipated the scale of the calamity that ETS presided over this summer, one that has brought the SATs system to its knees. A million 11- to 14-year-olds waited weeks to receive their results (some still wait) and doubts persist about the marks awarded: a quarter of schools may well appeal against their grades. ETS has since been fired, and there are calls for Ken Boston's head, too.

So what's next?

Next month, the QCA will introduce the first tranche of "diplomas for 14- to 19-year-olds", a system it hopes will lead to the phasing out of A-levels and GCSEs. The product of consultation with employers, the "14- 19" will eventually offer 17 main "lines", ranging from engineering and retail, to more traditional academic subjects. A big selling point, say its champions, is the "employability skills" that are built into the diploma: it's just another step in dumbing down Britain, is the critics' rejoinder. But one thing is beyond dispute: whether privately or publicly administered, Britain’s examination system faces further turmoil ahead. ·