Coursework
– a middle-class cheat's charter
January
13, 2008
By
Sian Griffiths. Additional reporting by Amanda Blinkhorn
and Victoria Neumark
GCSE
coursework is generating a huge exam scam, with all the
family joining in to ensure good grades
Have
you heard the story about the mother who wrote her
daughter’s English literature coursework for A-level and
was splutteringly indignant when it only scored a B? Or the
one about the family who paid a private tutor to help their
son build a model for his electronics GCSE? The young
tutor, fuelled by HobNobs supplied by dad, stayed up all
night finishing the work to make sure it could be handed in
on time.
All over the country, families are cheating on a scale,
that, applied to any other area of life, might even land
them in jail. At the start of 2008, with March’s submission
deadlines looming, a new cohort of middle-class mothers and
fathers are embarking on their teenagers’ coursework – an
essay or project that can be worked on at home even though
it can count for up to 60% of the marks on some GCSE
courses.
Schools issue booklets emphasising that the work should be
written without adult help. The rule of thumb is “don’t put
pen to paper (or finger to keyboard)” – but few parents
even read the rules, let alone abide by them, so keen are
they to guarantee top grades for their offspring.
It’s middle-class deception that is so widespread parents
joke publicly about it. At a dinner party recently I was
taken aback when two guests laughed about having “several
GCSEs” apiece. They meant their children’s – which they had
hugely contributed to by “helping” – and which they didn’t
at all mind confessing to now that their offspring had
amassed a string of passes.
Some parents get involved because of their 16-year-olds’
apparent inability to buckle down to such an extended piece
of work. James O’Donnell, for instance, stepped in one week
before his son Charlie was due to hand in his photography
GCSE coursework, having watched his son spend most weekends
hanging out with his mates.
“I just got the camera and went out in Putney and started
shooting,” recalls James. “I really got into it.” A
highflying executive who’d always enjoyed art, he read up
on the coursework criteria and started fulfilling them.
GCSE photography involves using a 35mm camera and creating
“three practical assignments supported by research”. While
taking pains that his supporting research – a written
rationale, sketched range of images and references to other
photographers’ work – was not wildly superior to the
standard of work Charlie was capable of producing, James
tried to ensure that his photos of traffic and pedestrians
on Putney streets were up to top GCSE standards.
As indeed they were. The work got an A* and James found his
helping hand easy to justify. “I knew Charlie was a very
talented artist,” he says. “He just wasn’t up to the
deadline.”
So why do schools and ministers turn a blind eye to such
deception? The answer can be found partly in the
publication, last week, of school league tables based on
the most recent GCSE results. It just isn’t in teachers’
interests to report their suspicions that families have
colluded over coursework if it dents the school’s overall
exam performance.
It’s not in the government’s interests either to scrap
coursework, even though there have been many calls for it.
According to last week’s tables only 46% of children scored
five good GCSEs, including maths and English. That
shockingly low figure would fall even lower if coursework
was stripped out.
A two-year inquiry, conducted by the exams watchdog – the
Qualifications and Curriculum Authority – and prompted by
widespread concerns, failed to do away with coursework
outright, though it will be dropped from some subjects.
From 2009, said a QCA spokesman, more will also have to be
done “under controlled conditions” in schools rather than
at home. But, he added, “we do want parents to take an
interest in their children’s education. It is okay for them
to talk to their children about coursework, it is not okay
for them to write huge chunks of it”.
He also pointed out that exam boards would be suspicious if
coursework and exam marks varied wildly and that candidates
can be disqualified for cheating.
And, of course, sometimes it does all go wrong. Nicola
Hill, a web designer from Newcastle, unleashed a morality
tale of biblical proportions when she volunteered to help
with her younger brother’s extended essay for his GCSE in
religious studies – 20% of his final mark.
“I began just intending to type it but then I started to
correct the spelling and then the grammar,” she remembers.
“It was supposed to be an examination of Abra-ham and his
dilemma about sacrificing his son but, honestly, it was
dreadful, it was as if he was writing about his holidays.
“Before I knew it I was making critical points and adding
in arguments. It all backfired horribly because he got a B
for it, his best grade, and was so encouraged that he went
on to take it at A-level, where he got a U.”
But this is an unusual case. Far more often family teamwork
on coursework reaps rich dividends. Who says cheating
doesn’t pay?
All names
have been changed
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