For many families, "assessment" has become almost interchangeable with "exams". A paper is set, an exam is sat, a grade is issued, and that single number often becomes the main story told about a student's ability. Exams can be useful and, in some contexts, necessary. They offer a common yardstick and can provide a clear snapshot of performance at a particular point in time. The problem is not that exams are always wrong; it is that they are too often asked to carry far more weight than they reasonably can, as if they are the most accurate and complete way to judge learning.
If we want a more honest conversation about education, we need to separate two ideas that are frequently muddled together: assessment of learning and assessment for learning. Assessment of learning is what most people recognise immediately. It is the end-point check, the summative judgement: what a student has achieved by the end of a unit, a year, or a course, typically used for certification and reporting (Black & Wiliam, 1998). Assessment for learning is different. It happens during learning, not after it. It is the ongoing gathering of evidence-through classroom tasks, short checks, discussions, drafts, and feedback-so that teachers and students can adjust what happens next (Black & Wiliam, 1998; Nicol & Macfarlane-Dick, 2006). One is a verdict; the other is a guide. Both matter, but they serve different purposes, and when we rely almost exclusively on the first, we weaken the second.
A central limitation of exams is that they capture a moment rather than a journey. Learning is not a single event; it is built gradually through practice, misunderstanding, correction, and growth. An exam, however, is performance on a particular day, under timed conditions, with pressure that can affect students very differently. It can reward speed and exam technique as much as understanding. That does not mean students should be shielded from challenge or standards. It means we should be careful about treating one high-pressure sitting as if it provides the full truth about what someone knows and can do.
Exams also tend to test what is easiest to standardise and mark, not necessarily what is most important. It is easier to set and score questions that focus on recall, short structured responses, and predictable problem types. These are legitimate skills, but they are not the whole of education. Many things we claim to value - reasoning, judgement, creativity, communication, persistence, and the ability to apply knowledge to new situations - are harder to measure well in a single written paper. When exams dominate, curriculum and teaching can start to bend towards what is most "testable", and students absorb the message that learning is mainly about anticipating what will come up, rather than developing understanding that lasts beyond the paper.
This is where assessment quietly shapes behaviour. Students learn what the system rewards. If the system rewards rehearsing past papers and guessing what will come out, learning will increasingly look like rehearsal. If it rewards improvement, explanation, and application, learning will increasingly look like mastery. In other words, assessment does not only measure learning; it influences what students (and teachers) prioritise (Black & Wiliam, 1998). Maltese research with teachers echoes this point: educators describe how assessment expectations shape classroom practice and, over time, can narrow learning to what is perceived as "counting" (De Giovanni, 2019).
There is also the question of wellbeing, which matters particularly in a culture where exams carry heavy consequences. Many students experience test anxiety, and the evidence base links higher test anxiety with lower performance across educational outcomes, including exam performance and grade point average (von der Embse et al., 2018). Anxiety is not simply "nerves"; it can crowd out attention and make it harder to retrieve information and think clearly under time limits. Some students thrive under pressure, but others - often those who are conscientious and capable - can underperform precisely because they care. Local studies reinforce that Malta's conversation cannot treat wellbeing as an afterthought: research on adolescents' school experience and subjective wellbeing highlights how school is closely tied to young people's sense of support, confidence, and worries about the future (Vassallo & Pace, 2024; Vassallo et al., 2025). When the entire weight of recognition and opportunity is concentrated into a small number of exam events, we amplify these pressures and risk confusing "who performed best today" with "who learned best this year" (von der Embse et al., 2018).
Equity is another unavoidable dimension. High-stakes exam cultures can widen gaps because not all students have the same conditions outside school: quiet space, stable routines, access to tutoring, or consistent support. Even when teachers work hard to level the playing field, external circumstances can influence exam readiness. A fair system does not pretend these differences do not exist; it designs assessment so that no single method becomes the sole gateway to opportunity. In Malta, concerns about fairness in high-stakes certification are not new; local work evaluating equity measures in the SEC system underscores how assessment design choices can advantage some groups while unintentionally disadvantaging others (Ventura & Murphy, 1998).
Perhaps the most practical criticism of over-reliance on exams is that they often deliver feedback too late to help. A grade at the end of a course may be clear, but it rarely tells a student what to do next, and it arrives when there is no time to act. That is why assessment for learning matters so much. Research on formative practice emphasises that feedback is most powerful when it helps learners understand where they are going, how they are doing, and what to do next (Hattie & Timperley, 2007). Sadler (1989) makes the point in a way that resonates with everyday experience: feedback only makes a difference when students understand what good work looks like, can see how their current work compares, and then have a genuine chance to close the gap through improvement. Nicol and Macfarlane-Dick (2006) similarly stress that good feedback practices strengthen students' ability to regulate their own learning - so they become less dependent on final judgements and more capable of monitoring and improving their work throughout the year. Maltese research also shows that translating "assessment for learning" from principle into daily practice takes real support and consistency: educators' reported use of formative strategies varied and, under pressure (such as the rapid move online), declined-highlighting how easily the formative function gets squeezed when systems are stressed (Said Pace, 2020).
None of this requires abolishing exams. It requires putting them back in their proper place. Exams are one tool, suited to some outcomes. They can contribute to assessment of learning, especially where society expects a common standard (Black & Wiliam, 1998). But exams should not be treated as the only credible evidence of learning. A healthier approach is to broaden the evidence base: include tasks that allow students to demonstrate understanding through application, extended reasoning, and sustained work. Wiggins (1990) argued that "authentic assessment" is not about lowering standards, but about asking students to do meaningful intellectual work - showing they can explain, apply, and justify what they know rather than only reproducing it in an exam script.
The deeper point is cultural. If we want young people to value learning, we must avoid turning assessment into a yearly exercise in fear and sorting. A balanced system respects standards while recognising that learning is complex and that students show competence in different ways. It invests seriously in assessment for learning - regular, low-stakes checking, meaningful feedback, and opportunities to improve - so that the year is not spent merely preparing for judgement, but actually getting better at what matters (Black & Wiliam, 1998; Nicol & Macfarlane-Dick, 2006). Exams will remain part of education. The question is whether we treat them as the whole story or as one chapter in a longer, richer account of learning. If we want schools to develop confident, capable citizens - able to think, communicate, solve problems, and keep learning - then assessment must do more than measure. It must also teach.
Dr Katya De Giovanni is a warranted Organisational Psychologist and Member of Parliament