If history repeats itself, these last few weeks of the quarter will require long hours of cramming for exams and “word-vomit”-ing essays in order to demonstrate my comprehension of course material.
But, if history repeats itself, a week after finals are over I’ll already have forgotten most of the information I put so much effort into proving I understood.
This cycle has become a sort of strange ritual in my education—a way to show that I have the cognitive ability and work ethic required to jump through the hoops and get the grades. While I’ve retained some information from past finals, exams haven’t done much to prove my actual understanding of the material. They’ve mostly shown that I can be productive.
College is often advertised as a place of learning and, to an extent, it is. I’ve definitely learned more in my two and a half years of college than I did in all four years of high school. But a college degree in itself doesn’t necessarily prove that someone’s learned a lot or that they’re exceptionally gifted or competent. In many ways, a college degree has become primarily an indicator that you can work hard and follow rules and have the basic skills needed for your line of work.
Why have we come to rely on this single metric (a Bachelor’s degree) to demonstrate both our knowledge and our productivity when those two qualities aren’t always complementary?
The stuff I’m tested on every finals week is never wholly reflective of what I’ve found to be the most important and applicable lessons. A lot of the really big takeaways, paradigm shifts and useful skills I’ve learned in school have been mere by-products of studying what my professors said were the course objectives.
Far too often, exams become memorization games. A lot of the time, I feel like I’m not being tested on my understanding of the course’s concepts, but on my ability to temporarily retain as many details as possible before regurgitating them back to the professor.
We live in a time where, thanks to the Internet, information is more free and available than it’s ever been. Smartphones and laptops are banned in most examination rooms because so many questions can be answered with a quick Google search. To an extent, we’re spending small fortunes on our educations only to temporarily memorize information that is astoundingly available.
The things that I’ve really learned in college are not things that I’ve memorized, but things that I’ve understood. They are skills, ways of thinking or broader concepts that I often can’t even put into words. The things I’ve really learned aren’t things that could be found in two minutes on my iPhone. And they weren’t things I learned while cramming for finals.
Over the course of my schooling, I’ve memorized many definitions verbatim that I never used again. This way of learning, one that focuses on the details without the context, is rarely useful, but it’s one that repeatedly rely on, because it works for the short-term memorization I need to pass my exams.
There’s a famous quote attributed to Albert Einstein: “Education is what remains after one has forgotten what one has learned in school.” So far, what has made a lasting impact in my learning has been what I retained when I was no longer bogged down by the details. The most meaningful lessons for me have not been ones that reside in a vacuum, but ones that I learn to see everywhere I look.
I dread finals week, because in many ways it embodies everything I’ve hated about my education thus far. It equates hard work and memorization with understanding and comprehension. It makes learning tedious and formulaic.
When finals come this term, I’m going to try compartmentalizing the different aspects of my education. I will recognize when I am required to do something to show that I am capable of memorization and productivity, and treat it as such. But when I think a task will broaden my understanding, or truly further my learning, I will embrace it and learn as much from it as I can.
It’s a subtle shift in attitude, but one that I hope will enhance the meaningfulness of my time in school. I can’t change the way I’m taught, but I can change the way I learn.
Follow Julia Comnes on Twitter: @jlcmnes