The SSC exam holds great importance in Bangladesh’s education system. It is a national recognition of 10 years of education from grade one to grade ten. In the 1990s, on average, only 40–45 per cent of students passed this exam. A large number failed, and that was considered an established and normal picture.
Yet, the government at that time did not adopt long-term, effective, and sustainable measures to address this widespread failure. Instead, corruption in teacher recruitment, politically influenced school committees, and other factors worsened the quality of education. Political transitions and various experimental changes in school education also prevented the establishment of a sustainable system.
In the last decade, under government directives, the pass rate in SSC rose dramatically. We became accustomed to a reality where 80–90 per cent of students “passed.” In this context, actual merit was often overlooked. Much discussion and criticism arose about whether students who passed had truly learned enough.
This year’s SSC results have therefore caused surprise. Nearly 2 million students sat for SSC and equivalent exams. Around 68 per cent passed, while 32 per cent—or 600,000 students—failed. Before 2000, the total number of candidates nationwide was only 600,000–700,000. That means the number of failed students this year equals the entire number of candidates from that earlier period. I consider this a crisis.
In Bangladesh, “matric fail” carries a terrible social stigma. One only has to imagine the mental state of these failed students to understand how deeply crushed they become at this age. Many drop out of studies. Some get involved in politics. Some are permanently cut off from mainstream employment opportunities. Many get associated with various crimes. Among them, female students face a higher risk of early marriage. The question arises that is this failure solely the student’s fault?
Absolutely not. When a student fails, the responsibility is not only theirs—it also lies with the institution, the teachers, the curriculum, and the entire education system. Not every student will have the same natural ability, focus, or interest. But the institution’s role is to bring them up to a defined standard. Therefore, instead of blaming the students who fail, it is necessary to reflect on the limitations of schools and education policy. On the other hand, passing students without proper assessment is equally harmful and unacceptable. This results in a society where “milk” and “ghee” cost the same. Everyone passes, but it becomes impossible to tell who is truly competent. The line between competence and incompetence disappears.
To overcome this crisis, we need structural reforms. I would like to put forward some suggestions.
First, the concept of a single, nationwide board exam could be reconsidered. Region-based examinations could be introduced, where evaluation would be based on local realities and the abilities of students.
The US high school diploma system can be a good example. There, students receive different types of diplomas, tailored to their talent, interest, skills, and goals. Similarly, Bangladesh could introduce a multi-tiered certificate or diploma system.
In a densely populated country, there will naturally be challenges. But including all students in the same standardised exam is itself ineffective. The current system has been in place for decades, yet has never proven suitable for all. Millions of students will not naturally grow up with the same talent, competence, and interest. So how logical is it to assess all of them with the same set of exam questions?
Classroom teaching has never truly become effective. Yet students are supposed to grasp lessons in class itself. The student–teacher ratio is low, which is an issue. But many teachers also lack experience, training, or interest—especially in rural schools.
Another major reform is needed in the exam structure. Currently, national exams cover 10–12 subjects, creating significant pressure on students. If board exams were limited to a select number of core subjects instead of covering all, mental stress would decrease, and student performance would likely improve. Furthermore, those who fail should not have to wait a full year but should be given the chance to quickly re-sit only the failed subjects. Leaving a student out of the system for an entire year damages their mental strength, self-confidence, and future. This is utterly inhumane and unacceptable.
In Norway and Germany, if students do not perform well academically, they are offered vocational or technical tracks. They can acquire professional skills, and this is not looked down upon socially. In Germany, this is known as the “dual training system,” through which students simultaneously learn practical skills and theoretical knowledge. This allows a smooth transition from education to employment. Bangladesh too can build an alternative and humane education structure where failing does not mean the end, but a chance to move forward on a new path.
Finally, we must ensure that this massive number of failed students does not face the devastating experience of being cut off from education or society. For that, job-oriented education, appropriate training for lower-performing students, and alternative evaluation methods are essential. In our schools, we must establish a culture not just of passing, but of learning and growth. These six hundred thousand students must not be lost. Their failure in exams must not be seen as their failure alone; schools and the education system as a whole must feel responsible and work for change. That should be our duty.
* Rauful Alam, Writer on Sustainable Education and Research