School’s out, university entrance exams are in

by Maria Titizian

Published: Saturday June 09, 2007 in Living in Armenia

School’s out, university entrance exams are in. Arzo

A few days ago I was sitting at an outdoor café with some friends, enjoying the cool evening breeze after a blisteringly hot day. We were discussing the election results and the rumors flying about whether there would be a coalition government, which political parties would get which ministerial portfolios, and which ones would choose to go into opposition.

Those of us sitting around the table all came from different political and social beliefs. The one thing that united us was our commitment to this country. Underlying our conversation, however, was a deep-rooted suspicion that these elections which, on the surface appeared fair, transparent, and clean were in reality tainted with bribes and not-so-subtle coercion. Every election I endure in Armenia strikes a fear deep in my heart that the country is going to unravel.

Of course I have the propensity to overdramatize. The country did not come apart; there were no massive demonstrations or protests; the voice of the radical opposition withered; and the powers that be marched on.

Exhausted from philosophizing and contemplating what the future held, we were sitting silently, each of us lost in thought, when we heard voices getting louder as they approached. We turned to see groups of young girls and boys, all dressed in similar clothes, with corsages carefully pinned to their chests, balloons in hand, walking in tight groups, squealing with joy.

Smiles began to appear on our faces as we realized that it was Verchin Zank - the final bell, the last day of school, when tenth graders from all over the city celebrate their graduation from high school and gather in Republic Square for an evening of collective, I daresay national celebration.

This year 50,000 students celebrated their Verchin Zank and are now taking their state exams, which will be followed for many by university entrance exams. State exams - which are identical across the country - have always been conducted in the schools the students have attended. So school administrations organize and mark exams at their own discretion. This practice meant that the marking procedures weren't always fair. For the first time the Ministry of Education has set up a pilot project to conduct two of the required state exams, Armenian language and Armenian literature, for students outside their own schools to avoid favoritism and rigging. This is a positive and welcome step forward. However, once the pressure of state exams is over, the students must face the daunting task of taking the dreaded university entrance exams.

Every university faculty offers a few scholarships for students based on the outcome of their entrance exams. Every family with a child preparing to enter the halls of higher education is caught up in a maelstrom of finding tutors a year in advance, fretting and wringing their hands, pushing their children to the limits of exhaustion to guarantee that they are able to secure one of these coveted scholarships. For most families sending a child to university is a luxury that is un­attainable, and if their child's performance on the exams is not up to par then all hopes for higher education are wiped out. Then the connections and bribes come into play.

Yerevan is a big village, where everyone knows everyone else, and if they don't, then they invariably have a cousin, uncle, aunt, or godfather who does know someone who can pull strings who can make sure that their child gets in. It's an impossible situation for everyone. I know, we went through it last year.

By the time our daughter celebrated her Verchin Zank, we had already ensured that she was tutored for Armenian history, Armenian language, and English, the three exams she had to take to get into the faculty of her choice. An entire year in advance of the exams, she was running from one tutor to another, studying, reading, and writing until blisters formed on her fingers. They have yet to recede.

Her first scheduled exam was English, a subject you would think she would breeze by, but as I have written before things are not so simple here. Having a native speaker of English for a mother, having been born and educated in Canada for the first 11 years of her life, she would, you would think, consider this exam the least of her worries. Think again. I will not bore you with the details except to say that while she scored a perfect 20 out of 20 on her Armenian-language exam, she scored a 19.6 on her English exam. A year later and I still have not come to terms with that outcome.

Nevertheless Verchin Zank for our family was an important milestone. After so many years of adjusting and having to learn Eastern Armenian and acclimatizing to a social and educational culture that was so different from what we knew, our daughter had graduated with honors and is now completing her first year in university. These bittersweet memories came flooding back as I sat in the café with my friends and watched groups of young people celebrating their own personal milestones. For me the worrying, the fretting, and the wringing of hands coincided with the sheer joy of realizing that we had overcome one of the biggest hurdles in this journey of living in Armenia.

I am thankful for every moment no matter how difficult or heartbreaking, because I have been blessed with experiences which I will carry with me always. Like the day we went to the university to find out the results of her Armenian language exam. The scores were posted on the entrance doors of the university and when we arrived there was a mob of people clamoring to see the scores. We joined the melee and were struggling to move in to find our daughter's name. My husband was the first one to see it and when he called out, "20 out of 20," I nearly collapsed, and on one of the busiest street corners of Yerevan I wept until I was breathless. That moment in time will forever be etched in my memory.

It not only reminds us but is a reaffirmation of why we chose to come here in the first place. So while elections cloud some of my days and the future is still as ambiguous as it was when I first stepped foot here, we are on the greatest rollercoaster ride of our lives.