Around the world, starting in the 90s, tests like this allowed you to bring things in.

I transferred to a school in Canada, and a math test arrived. I was all fired up to start calculating when something utterly unexpected happened. Looking around, everyone pulled rectangular boxes resembling chocolate bars from their bags.

What was that? It was a shape I hadn't seen before. Everyone opened the lids, and lo and behold, they were calculators. Not just simple ones, but ones capable of functions and calculus. Huh? Everyone, this is a test! Calculators aren't allowed, right? But everyone just kept clicking away on their calculators, writing their answers on the answer sheet without a care.

I even felt like I was the odd one out for not having one. I couldn't believe it. How could you even call yourself good at math with that? It stung a bit, especially since I was prone to calculation errors. I'd never even owned a calculator. I somehow managed to get through the test by calculating everything myself, but I couldn't shake the feeling that everyone else was cheating.

As if sensing this, the teacher spoke to me. "I understand what you're thinking, but at this grade level, we're looking at whether you truly grasp the mathematical structure behind this topic and know how to solve problems based on that understanding. It's not about whether you know the formulas. See, sometimes they're written at the top of the problem, right? What matters is understanding how to use them and what you can achieve by applying them."

I see. That's true. So that's another way to look at it. It was so different from before that I was confused, but I got myself a calculator right away. Little did I know then that this would lead to tremendous trouble the next time I transferred to a Japanese school.

Looking back, different schools had all sorts of slightly unusual test rules.

For instance, another shock at Canadian schools was encountering exams consisting entirely of multiple-choice questions. At first, this also felt a bit like being taken for a fool. Things you know, you know without needing hints, and guessing answers just seemed kind of lame. Multiple-choice for math?! I'd never seen that before. What about showing work? Oh, everyone uses calculators here.

But come English or French class, I actually welcomed multiple-choice. With subjects I struggled with, I just didn't know the answers, so multiple-choice gave me a chance to luck into the right one. If I could just get the general direction, I felt like I could somehow arrive at a plausible-sounding answer.

Oh, so this system is meant to help those who struggle. I felt a tiny bit of kindness. But among the choices, there were options like "all are wrong" or "all are correct," which were tricky traps.

In Russian schools, the questions differed depending on which row you sat in. Why? I think it was to prevent cheating. Since you sit at one long desk, you could see your neighbor's answers if you wanted to. Especially if the top student was next to a troublemaker, the idea to cheat would come immediately. Dividing the questions by row solved this problem easily. After all, even if you could see your neighbor's answers, it wouldn't matter.Everyone has to work hard on their own. They often split problems between odd-numbered and even-numbered rows.

For math, they'd give the same level of calculation problems using different numbers. You solved the problems for the row you were seated in. Wouldn't that make grading unfair? Well, in Japan, you might feel it makes sense to give everyone the same problem and then compare their abilities, but in Russia, that's not the case at all. If you truly understand the concept, changing the numbers shouldn't make you unable to solve it.

My parents told me that in university, students sometimes drew problems like a lottery, so everyone solved different ones. Sure, there might be some luck involved, but if you studied properly, "luck" didn't matter. The top students seemed to believe that.

I don't recall American elementary schools ever having everyone sit down together for a "Ready, set, go!" test. Sure, there were times when problems were given for everyone to solve, but it felt more like a "pop quiz" or "practice problems" than what you'd call a "test" in Japan.

The way they were given was casual, and the paper didn't feel formal or like a test. You could redo them multiple times, and there wasn't much of a feeling of "I can't do this" or "I don't understand." Everyone could figure it out in the end, reach the correct answer. It felt strangely mysterious. I'd doubt every time, "This is a test, right?"

So how do they grade us? I wondered the same thing at first. But the teacher was watching everyone closely. They knew exactly what each person could do.

Come to think of it, it felt similar in British schools. Since one table was one team, everyone worked together to find one answer in the end (※For details, see #03 "Seating Systems in Elementary Schools Across 5 Countries. They Were All Different." ). So, you didn't get that feeling of being called on, not knowing the answer, and panicking. You also didn't have to feel embarrassed in front of everyone.Even with subjects you're not good at, you can relax and work on them. So, before you know it, that sense of being bad at it fades a little. That might also contribute to growth. Here too, the teacher is carefully watching each student's abilities and their contributions within the team.

Tests had various formats and characteristics, but I recall the defining feature was that almost none required rote memorization. Calculators and dictionaries were often permitted, and some tests even allowed bringing textbooks. This is because the answers sought weren't found in textbooks or dictionaries, nor were they things calculators knew.

Thinking about it this way, what is the purpose of tests? What are they meant to measure? How should children and students be evaluated? Considering these questions is truly fascinating.