An A for Effort but an F for Success Spells Failure
Today, I had the great misfortune to be involved in the elections of my college's Pre-University Student Council. The election was mainly for the post of President, with all the other losers being appointed to posts such as Treasurer in the order the votes were tallied.
The reason I call this a misfortune is that despite the best efforts of the lecturers to make the election and the Student Council meaningful, my experience with the Student Council and the conduct of its activities over the past year have made me very pessimistic about it.
But that's not a digression we need delve into. Let's just take it at face value that there are major, systemic problems with how the Student Council and its processes are run, and that because of malaise on someone's part (I honestly have no idea who), the posts are not particularly meaningful.
In the run-up to the election, one thing that annoyed me was the proliferation of posters for one particular candidate. Most other candidates confined themselves to campaign posters outside the venue of the balloting, but this one put up posters just about everywhere on campus, and distributed buttons and stickers. For what? An essentially useless post — the only meaningful activities I can think of that the Student Council organised in the past year were a sports carnival, and a dinner.
The thing that most irritated me was the lack of meaningful information about any of the candidates. Their posters were vague enough, but this could be excused on the grounds of brevity and propaganda.
When they were given the chance to give a speech prior to balloting, I was half-hoping for someone to actually prove themselves a decent candidate. I, of course, ended up quite disappointed.
Almost all of the candidates spoke in meaningless platitudes about "fun", "communication", "competence", etc. They seemed like the type who could easily spout whatever bullshit is scribbled in our Moral Education textbooks, without actually understanding it — and as it happens, I think the worst campaigner (with annoying posters everywhere) also turned out to be the worst offender when it came to meaningless platitudes.
Almost all of the candidates spoke along the lines of "Tell me what your problems are, and I'll solve them". Only one candidate seemed to have done any homework at all, by noting which campus societies were most active, and suggesting that our activities be modeled along their lines. The rest seemed to expect us to tell them what our problems are, rather than taking a proactive approach to discovering the problems and telling us how they would propose to solve them.
Being the jackass that I am, I posed a question-cum-statement to one of the candidates along the lines of: "I can't see any substantive differences between the candidates. Pardon my French, but what you've all been saying is just utter bullshit. You talk about your 'ideals', but these are the kinds of things any candidate who stood for election would say. You ask us to tell you our problems, but the onus is on you to find out what the problems are and to tell us how you plan to solve them. Only one candidate seems to have done any work at all on this."
At this point, the lecturer in charge of co-ordinating the balloting stepped in and told me that my criticisms were valid, but that we had to respect the candidates for being willing to stand up and make a statement to the couple of hundred Pre-U students. He then mouthed some statement about how the system would be changed to better accomodate all students, and then the campaigning went on.
In the end, I spoilt my ballot, and wrote a short note on it criticising all the candidates. A number of my friends did the same, although several others voted for the girl who had done some cursory research on organising campus activities. The eventual winner was a student from Botswana (though I expect that his main reason for victory was the huge base of Botswanan students, who apparently number about a hundred).
What really irked me and got under my skin about how this campaign went on was that so few people understood that in real life, getting an A for effort is nothing. Even the lecturers encouraged this fallacy by praising all the candidates for being willing to make statements.
The return on investment is rarely proportional to the amount of work or effort involved. I don't care how much work you put into plastering the campus walls with posters, or making campaign buttons — if all you can give me is bullshit, you will reap what you sow.
If anything, the victor's success confirmed this, since he doesn't seem to have put much effort into his campaign at all. He actually asked the lecturer if he could withdraw from the race since he didn't think he could win. He won basically by having the most entertaining stump speech, and of course by relying on the Botswanan vote.
I myself ended up on the Student Council committee, because my class elected me as their representative. I doubt we'll get much work done, since we have about twenty people on the committee, making it an impossible behemoth to handle.
In the end, however, I remain upset about how educational institutions encourage the fallacy that effort counts for something. In real life, effort counts for nothing. You either succeed or you fail, and working hard on something is merely a means to success — it is not a form of success in itself.
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johnleemk
Infernally Rambling Thoughtless Mind Head Administrator Posts: 949 IP Logged | Posted at 12:38:25 pm Oct 25, 2005
Today while I was sitting for my GCE 'O' Levels for the first time (at the British Council, near KLCC), I realised there are some rather startling discrepancies between how the Americans and British handle the process of examinations. To contrast this, let's look at how I applied to sit (and actually sat) for the American SAT I exam and the GCE 'O' Levels. When I applied to sit for the SAT, I logged on to the official American College Board website, registered a user account, and just registered for the test online. To pay for the fees, all that was required was a valid credit card number. As a statement of entry, printing out the confirmation webpage would suffice. The whole approach struck me as something like fast food for examinations, or a drive-thru examination, if you will. When you headed for the test centre, at the entrance, there would be these very helpful signs pointing you in the correct direction of the room you were meant to head for. At the entrance of the room, your identification and statement of entry would be scrutinised before you would be allowed to enter, where an invigilator would then assign you a seat (depending entirely on her whims). Bags would have to be placed on the floor in the front of the hall. Then at the test itself, we had to wait for late candidates before beginning the test. Due to the nature of the test (it's divided into separate sections, which are sat for one at a time, like different papers), we would not be allowed to leave early if we finished early. Before the test began, the invigilators read out the instructions for us (as if students sitting for a college-entrance examination are illiterate). The instructions themselves were readily available as part of the answer booklet, and were so easy to follow, any old literate dummy could properly fill in his candidate number, etc. When it came to toilet breaks, nobody was allowed to leave the room except at specific periods, when as a group everyone could go to the toilet. (So if you had to go, you had to wait.) Reminders of how much time was left were pretty frequent, although considering the nature of how the test was divided into sections, this would probably not be too unreasonable. Once time was up, you handed in everything, and said goodbye permanently to both your question and answer booklets. The results would come out in about a month. For the 'O' Levels, things were pretty different. Registering was done in the good old pen and paper manner, right down to having to fill out a bank draft. Then you'd have to wait for your statement of entry and instructions to come in the post. And if there were any clashes between subjects you were sitting for (such as a clash between a physics and biology paper), the onus would be on you to inform the test centre, and not for the test centre to work things out and settle everything down properly. At the test centre itself, there were no signs at all to guide you to the correct general location (let alone room) of the examination. You would be expected to enquire at the counter of the British Council, apparently. Then when you arrived at the general location of the examination hall, you'd have to work out where exactly it was (fortunately, that wouldn't be too hard, as a permanent sign was available; no "'O' Levels this way" signs though). Outside the hall, there would be no staff to scrutinise you or inform you of what next; you would be expected to do that yourself. Finally, about five minutes before the test, an invigilator would pop out of a nondescript door to inform you if you wanted a last-minute toilet visit, you would have to do it now. Having done so, you would be admitted to the exam hall. Bags would be placed on a couple of tables apparently provided for such a purpose. Seating had already been predetermined, so no need to worry about invigilators seating you in the wrong spot (whatever that may be). At the beginning of the test, surprisingly little instructions were given beyond the basic "turn off your cellphone, don't cheat, bla bla". The examination answer and question booklets were hardly clear or verbose in their instructions either; I actually had to ask if I would need to shade in my candidate number for the multiple-choice paper (I didn't have to). No timing warnings were provided throughout the duration of the test. If you finished early, you could hand in your paper and either move on to the next one or leave the exam hall. If you needed any toilet breaks, you could raise your hand and then be accompanied from the room by an invigilator to look out for any cheating. It was only when you finished the test that you would find out whether you missed any instructions or not; somehow, somebody seemed to have forgotten to remind candidates sitting for subjective papers that each sheet of paper should have the candidate's name and candidate number written on top. If you wanted your question paper returned to you, you couldn't keep it, but you could write down your postal address and wait for it to come back in about three months. Now, naturally any inferences drawn from the differences observed from the juxtaposition of these two exams are likely to contain some errors. For example, the very nature of these two exams differ; the SAT tests aptitude, not knowledge, while the 'O' Levels test academic knowledge, not aptitude. Nevertheless, because I have nothing better to do with my time, I'm going to try. One noticeable difference between the two exams is that in the SAT, the onus is on the part of the examiners to work out all the kinks. If a candidate is late, they have to wait. If something is wrong, they have to notice it and fix it. With the 'O' Levels, you have to ensure everything's alright; forget about the examiners doing it for you. I suppose you could infer from this that American culture is customer-oriented and businesslike, while the 'O' Levels remain the domain of pure academia, where the student's supposed to do everything. Another difference is that it seems the American SAT reflects the typical American notion of egalitarianism - everyone does everything at the same time; no special toilet breaks for you. You finish early? Too bad, you have to wait it out. Not so with the traditionally aristocratic British - go ahead with your private business at your own rate. Anyway, so those are my observations and inferences from my sociological "experiments". Feel free to kutuk (Malay for criticise, if you're a [i]mat salleh/i], which is a word I won't translate for you) my failure at appreciating the scientific method or my astounding idiocy. I'm bored, and I have nothing better to do than argue with you, anyway. |
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