Translated material
There are scarier animals than cats
But in general, apparently, I am one of the slow-witted people. It is equally unclear to me how it is possible to enroll a person who has not taken tests in history and a foreign language as a student in any humanities department. Meanwhile, the number of exams in the humanities faculties of very many (if not all) universities has decreased by no means yesterday: somewhere they manage without a foreign language, somewhere without national history, somewhere without Russian (yes, those same “ rules”, which allegedly are not needed by anyone except linguists) and literature. And no one seems to be waving their hands about this. Except for those teachers who, when teaching a course on ancient Russian literature, are forced to explain to the audience when, say, the Baptism of Rus', the Battle of Kulikovo, or the introduction of the oprichnina happened (and what it meant). And in lectures on literature of the 19th century, outline the policies of each sovereign and changes in public sentiment. And - if for some reason a colleague who read about the 18th century did not do this - explain how an iambic differs from a trochee, and a cross rhyme from a girdle rhyme. Moreover, one has to engage in this useful activity (work for that guy) both where exams in history and oral literature took place, and where they have already been eliminated. Maybe my colleagues from Moscow State University are happier, but while taking exams (not entrance exams, but regular exams at the end of the course) at different universities and in different years (from the mid-80s to the present day), I have repeatedly seen students who simply don’t remember “ content" (not rare details, but the main characters and plot twists) of "Eugene Onegin", "Dead Souls", "War and Peace", "The Cherry Orchard". And I have not yet forgotten the nonsense that some of my classmates (from the same philological department of Moscow State University) were talking about these works. Meanwhile, none of these would-be students took the Unified State Exam—they all wrote essays. And they crossed the university threshold quite successfully.
Of course, the genre of the essay itself is not responsible for the incidents described. But unfortunately, it does not serve as an ideal barrier on the path of a hack (with all my respect for the traditional type of exams and deep dislike for testing). It is not the type of test that identifies the worthy and cuts off random applicants, but the people taking it. And the role of the human factor both in checking essays and in the oral exam cannot be eliminated. In this regard, I will tell you two stories.
I received my only “B” in literature (at school there were D’s for unlearned poetry, at the university there were only “A’s”) in the entrance exam. For the second question - “The development of Lenin’s teaching on the relationship between a writer’s worldview and creativity,” which he answered not quite as the examiner wanted, who unfortunately turned out to be a major specialist in precisely this all-powerful teaching. It doesn't quite mean exactly what it means. The well-read and generally understanding boy did not take any “liberties” in the summer of 1974. But some of the twists and turns of party wisdom were inaccessible to me then. For which he paid with a year of hassle.
Let's go to the other side of the barricade. I am already a graduate student and working on entrance exams. I check essays - both in the natural sciences faculties and (trusted!) in the humanities. True, not at my native philological department, but at the historical and philosophical department. I get an opus, the author of which strives to become a Soviet Kant or Heidegger. He writes about Sholokhov’s “The Fate of Man”; maybe about “folk character”, maybe about “genre originality”, which, however, does not matter. Because it produces a smooth text, which contains all the necessary words (“patriotism”, “humanism”, “caring for children”, “greatness of the writer”, etc.), there is not a single error, and also no references to the text. Nothing is even said about “I don’t have a snack after the first one.” But there is a stinging ending (I remember it almost verbatim): “You will say that I did not cover the topic. But I opened my soul. Is this what they kill for? He didn’t kill, but gave a two. For cynicism. (I didn’t and don’t believe that “out of naivety” one can equate failure in exams to death. That’s why in the “good feelings” of that opus I felt a calculated lie.) And for unfamiliarity with the program text (I wasn’t the one who included it in the program!) - - my philosopher did not observe any spelling or punctuation errors, the factual one was: “The Fate of a Man” was twice called a “novel” in the essay, from which it is easy to conclude that the applicant had not seen the text. (She probably watched the film, once upon a time.) And also because the girl did not read other - undoubtedly great - books on which she could write an essay. (In those years, three topics were given: one on the first half of the 19th century, another on the second, and a third on the Soviet era.) I don’t regret what I did. The “Sholokhov scholar” understood the lesson - perfectly; I remained with my cynicism and ignorance - it’s not my fault. But the essay could have gone to another examiner, who would have been completely satisfied with the correct words and given a passing grade. Perhaps this is what happened a year later. And more than two decades later, the victim of my “animal seriousness” (love of science and desire to protect it from demagogues and ignoramuses), who had reached certain degrees, decided to take revenge on the unreasonable Khazars and contributed to the elimination of normal exams.
She was not alone. They ruin essays (and eliminate “unnecessary” exams), create wild “educational standards”, cut the hours allotted for studying language and literature at school, build a system of obstacles (easily bypassed by slackers, but causing nausea among workers) when passing dissertations and approving academic papers. manuals, illiterate (in the most literal sense) textbooks are written and “punched” not by Martians, but by graduates of our universities. Including the Faculty of Philology and Journalism of Moscow State University. Those who were first accepted there (note, not according to the Unified State Exam!), and then allowed to receive diplomas there.
They say that the Unified State Exam will weaken teacher control over admissions. I believe in this. I don’t believe in the catastrophe that should follow the introduction of the Unified State Exam. Firstly, if the Unified State Exam allows unfit people to enter universities (which has happened before and, I’m afraid, will always happen), then it cannot prevent a gifted person from entering. Anyone who is able to write an essay and withstand a debate with the examiner will undoubtedly overcome the tests. This “trained” person cannot cope with the serious formulation of the question. (In those years, in the entrance exams, we took not only Lenin’s articles, but also the Brezhnev trilogy—nothing, we got in. Not to mention the exams of that time on the newest—Soviet—period of national history. An unpleasant incident with a “B” for “Leninist teaching” convinced me only one thing: you need to prepare for questions of this kind with special care.) Secondly, education does not end with entrance exams, but begins . Well, a certain number of mediocrities have passed the Unified State Examination - who, dear colleagues, is stopping you from giving them bad marks and then expelling them from the university?
It is, of course, nervous and troublesome. But, alas, even if we preserve the essay (and the entire traditional set of exams), we have no other way but to teach well and ask tough questions. If we are really talking about building a full-fledged humanitarian education that preserves good , and by no means all, university traditions.
Of course, it would be better for us to live without the Unified State Exam, but if we die (teachers of the humanities along with their subjects), it will not be from it, but from the constant decrease in the level of requirements, condescension masking indifference, busyness with our own affairs and the confidence that things will be different can't.