Imagine a student who scores 98 in Bangla and 42 in mathematics. Which number do we notice first? We know the answer. The 42 becomes the concern, while the 98 becomes almost an afterthought.
Maybe that student writes beautifully. Maybe she understands language in a way that allows her to notice what others miss. Maybe she could become a writer, journalist, teacher or researcher. But once her marks are compressed into an overall GPA, those strengths can become harder to see. A number meant to summarise academic performance slowly begins to define the student herself.
This is the uncomfortable reality of a result-oriented education culture. We do not simply evaluate students through numbers anymore; we often judge them through those numbers. From school, students grow up hearing about GPA 5, Golden A+, board results and, later, CGPA. These achievements matter, and hard work deserves recognition. But somewhere along the way, a dangerous message begins to take shape: my result is not something I received; my result is what I am worth.
And that is where the problem begins. Learning changes when students begin to believe that their entire future depends on a number. A student no longer asks, “Why does this happen?” but, “Will this come in the exam?” A chapter is no longer interesting or uninteresting. It becomes “important” or “not important.” Curiosity slowly gives way to calculation.
Over time, this pressure affects not only how students study, but also how they see themselves as learners. A student who repeatedly hears that only certain subjects, grades or achievements matter may begin to ignore their own interests and abilities. Instead of exploring what they are naturally good at, many students learn to measure every activity by whether it will improve their results. Education becomes a race towards an outcome rather than a journey of discovery.
Teachers face pressure to produce better results. Students try to meet the standards placed before them. These concerns often come from care, but when success is defined too narrowly, even good intentions can create overwhelming pressure for young people.
Sometimes, the student who is exceptional in one area spends years being reminded of the subject she struggles with, while the things she does extraordinarily well receive far less attention. We become so busy correcting the 42 that we forget to ask what the 98 could become. That is a loss not only for the student, but for all of us.
The pressure surrounding examination results becomes most visible during public examination seasons. Every year, when SSC and equivalent results are published, thousands of students experience one of the most emotionally significant moments of their academic lives. For some, it is a day of celebration. For others, it becomes a day of disappointment, fear and uncertainty. Recent reports of students losing their lives after SSC results have forced us to confront a painful question: how did a disappointing result become something that some young people feel is impossible to overcome?
A result should be feedback, not a final judgement. A student who fails an examination has failed a test, not their entire future. A student who receives a lower grade has received an outcome, not a permanent label. Neither result should become the permanent definition of their ability, character or future.
Yet many students do not experience results as simple academic outcomes. They experience them through family expectations, social comparison and the fear of being considered unsuccessful. Perhaps the problem is not only the examination system itself. Perhaps it is the culture we have built around it.
This culture does not develop overnight. It is created through years of comparison, expectations and fear. Parents worry about their children’s future. Teachers face pressure to produce better results. Students try to meet the standards placed before them. These concerns often come from care, but when success is defined too narrowly, even good intentions can create overwhelming pressure for young people.
We celebrate students who achieve GPA 5, and they deserve appreciation for their dedication. But we rarely ask the same question about the students who did not achieve it: what happens to them after the results are published? Do they receive guidance to understand where they struggled? Do they receive opportunities to improve? Do we help them discover other skills and strengths? Or do they simply disappear from the conversation?
A supportive education system should not only ask who achieved the highest marks. It should also ask why some students struggled and what support they need to improve. A lower result should be treated as information about where a student needs help, not as evidence that the student lacks ability. Every student deserves the opportunity to learn from mistakes and move forward.
A truly successful education system cannot only measure how many students reach the highest grades. It must also measure how effectively it supports students who struggle. This does not mean examinations should disappear. Academic discipline matters. Standards matter. Assessment matters. But students should have more than one way to demonstrate what they know and what they can do.
Written examinations can remain an important part of education, but they should be balanced with opportunities that show how students think, communicate, create, solve problems and apply knowledge. A student’s ability should not be limited to how well they reproduce information inside an examination hall.
Achieving this requires more than changing question papers. It requires better teacher training, supportive learning environments, practical approaches to learning and policies that recognize different forms of ability. Because students adapt to what the system rewards. If we reward only marks, they will chase marks. If we reward curiosity, creativity, application and growth, they may begin to chase those too.
The student with 98 in Bangla and 42 in mathematics does not need us to pretend that the 42 does not exist. She needs support to understand where she struggles, opportunities to improve and, just as importantly, recognition of what she does exceptionally well. She needs a society and an education system capable of seeing that the 98 means something too.
Because behind every GPA is a student with unique abilities, struggles, possibilities and dreams. We see the GPA. But do we see the student?
* Rafiah Binte Mizan is an undergraduate student at North South University. She serves as the Campus Director of the UN Millennium Fellowship (Millennium Campus Network) and is an Associate Member of the United Nations Youth and Students Association of Bangladesh. She can be reached at [email protected].