The Examination Life

Thirty-eight-year-old Lin Sijia (not her real name) has been coming to Cram School Street just about every evening for the past 15 months to study in a three-hour class with more than a hundred students-an environment much the same as in an actual exam. After transferring from a technical college and graduating from a four-year university, she acted as an administrator and webmaster for a community organization. At age 33, she was hired on a contract basis as an IT administrative planner by a government agency. She never thought of herself as a "civil servant," but she worked in the public sector for five years. Her superiors were pleased with her performance, but she eventually grew tired of the stifling atmosphere of government work.

A year and a half ago, she tried sending out resumes to private organizations looking to hire IT workers, only to be rejected in the final stages of the hiring process. Lin figured out the reason: "I wasn't young and my salary requirement was higher than a new graduate's, but 'public servant' didn't catch much attention on my resume." She thought about what to do and decided to take the civil service exam. "I'd already embraced the idea of staying single. I had to think about security in my later years, whether I'd continue along doing the same job but without the status or the opportunity to advance. I also hoped that someday I'd have some authority and be able to do what I wanted to do."

With the support of her family, she quit her job. Unfortunately, in July of last year she failed the five-day civil service exam and could only try again in the northern Taiwan level-three special exams for local-government civil service positions in December. In March the results were posted, and she scraped in with a score four points over the minimum pass mark. However, she is still considering whether to take this year's advanced civil service exam. "For the sake of securing my future career, it's not time to relax yet."

At the same time, her friends from an online study forum who also took the exam failed and fell into depression. Some whose scores were far lower than they'd expected declared that if they didn't "avenge themselves" this year they'd lose all self-confidence. Others had struggled with the exams for too long and felt they'd wasted their prime years on them so it was time to take a second job. Others went to Taoist temples to pray to the Lord Wenchang for better luck next time.

Every year at entrance exam time, parents bring their children's testing credentials, zongzi dumplings, green onions and celery (signifying "sure success," "intelligence" and "diligence") to pray to the god of examination, Lord Wenchang, for good luck. When it's the civil service exam, for which people prepare for years, the pressure must be even greater.

Society of examinees

According to Ministry of Examination statistics, 2008 saw a record level of interest in the starting-level civil service exams with 385,806 enrolling and 262,174 taking them. That's an attendance rate of 67.95%. In total, 15,127 people passed, making a success rate of 5.77%.

The jump in the number of people signing up for the exams has frequently been reported in the media with headlines such as "Test-takers Seek Life-Long Meal Ticket from the State," "The Best Career Move in a Bad Economy," or "Such-and-such Exam Sees Lowest Pass Rate Ever," striking fear into the hearts of test-takers. The test-taking technique courses and crash courses offered by private cram schools are packed. It's even got to the point where in December 2008 the Ministry of Examination called together top scorers in 126 civil service exams to share their experiences with potential test-takers.

Of the 115 top testers who participated, around half had taken the tests two to six times. Five of them had even taken 20 tests or more. But 15 had passed the civil service exam on their first try.

Jiang Liangjie, a 33-year-old graduate of Shih Hsin University's graduate law program, took the exams 29 times over eight years. He says he went from "firing off potshots" to aiming for the intellectual property administration subject exam, which he says is difficult and has a low pass rate but you can beat others if you specialize in some of the subjects. It was with this test that he finally passed. He also says that in taking an exam, just as in pursuing spiritual cultivation, you shouldn't be put off by others' harsh words. He recommends students should determine the limits of what they can take, and if they don't pass after a couple years they should find a job somewhere. That way they can accumulate work experience as they study. "Otherwise it's too much of a gamble," he says.

Exams are a frightening transition point in people's lives. They are also socially constructed barriers. Whether or not one decides to take them, the national exams shape social values and shape our lives.

Voluntary submission?

The Examination Yuan also stages professional and technical personnel examinations. Because the practice of various professions may affect the public interest or the safety of members of the public or of their property, licensing is compulsory for such activities. Therefore success in these exams is crucial for individuals' career development. Last year 194,660 people signed up for the exams and 148,996 took them.

Unlike the civil service exams, the technical and professional exams are a kind of professional qualification and status marker. But they are also different in that obtaining a license by passing them does not guarantee a job. Successful candidates are still at the mercy of the employment market.

Strangely, the Examination Yuan traditionally tended to restrict the numbers of passing students as a means of controlling professional quality, employing free-response essay questions that tested specialized knowledge. Students had to memorize laws and take mock exams made up of old test questions. But in certain careers (such as pharmacist and architect), it has become common both for people to "borrow" others' licenses, and for licensed people not to have the confidence to actually practice. This highlights the stark mismatch between the tests and the realities of professional practice.

In the advanced architecture exam, for example, not even one in 10 architects with a graduate degree and 10 years of work experience passes. In 2002, the Examination Yuan finally agreed to change the format of the exam from an "instant death" pass-or-fail exam requiring a passing grade in all its six sections, to a system whereby a passing grade on any section is valid for three years, so that an examinee has three years in which to pass them all. However, in the six years since the change, the average pass rate is still below 7%.

Chen Junheng, who was trained at Tamkang University's graduate program in architecture, says that when he graduated four years ago, he was confident and didn't prepare, so his scores were "shockingly low." Learning a lesson from this, he realized: "If you want to take the exam you have to abide by the rules of the game." So he quit his job to study at a cram school for one year. By studying the questions from previous years' exams, he was able to pass four of the subject exams and in the third year he finally received his certification. He says, "The highest state of mind is to be able to enjoy cramming and at the same time relate what you learn to what you do at work."

How many large-scale exams do Taiwanese take while growing up? While we complain about inflexibility and emphasis on rote memorization in the exam system, it is also possible that this society places too much trust in "written exams" being the only fair method of assessment.

Cries for reform

Compared to Chen, it would seem that international award-winning architect J. M. Lin, who is licensed in America, doesn't have much luck with exams. He remains unlicensed in Taiwan, but he is in the position to "shout back": "Taiwan's architect licensing exam is straight out of the old imperial examination system that wastes your intelligence and emphasizes rote memorization but has nothing to do with creativity or practical skill!" He also says that at many architectural firms including his own there is a rush at the end of the year when architects seek to take months off to prepare for the exams. "If it continues on like this, how are Taiwan's creative industries going to be able to compete internationally?"

In 2006, Lin and a group of architects who'd taken part in a project to reconstruct schools toppled in the September 21, 1999 earthquake formed the Architecture Reform Society with the mission statement, "Promote the culture of architecture, improve the atmosphere of the industry, and raise the level of education about architecture."

Chang Chiyi, chair of National Chiao Tung University's Graduate Institute of Architecture and the convener of the Architecture Reform Society's academic work group, sighs as he recounts how he and many architects of his age simply went abroad to study and gain broader work experience rather than take Taiwan's exam. Then, when he returned to Taiwan after many years, he found that the same testing system was still in place, stifling the next generation!

When the society was founded, reform of the exam system was listed as a top priority. Through discussions and surveys, they came up with three suggestions for the Examination Yuan: firstly, the exam should gauge professional qualifications as it was originally intended to do; secondly, a database of past and potential exam questions should be created and the proportion of multiple-choice questions should be increased; and thirdly, the pass rate should be raised appropriately in line with the levels in other nations (e.g., 10-20% in Japan, over 50% in the US).

Coincidentally, in late 2007, as the Examination Yuan was still "evaluating" the society's suggestions, a controversy broke out over that year's exam. The essay question on the first day's structural engineering exam was obscure and the calculation problems were overly complex, sparking the ire of exam-takers. The next day, some distributed a satirical comic outside the testing site, and before long an online petition was started and signed by more than 10% of the examinees. Though they weren't able to change their own "bad luck"-less than 1% were passed that year-the next year's architecture exam had more multiple-choice sections, and the questions were better posed.

It's hard for young people to find employment, and easy for middle-aged and older people to be laid off-it's no wonder that the civil service exams, with their promise of lifetime employment, attract so many. But what is the value of public servants? This question still needs careful consideration. Pictured is a job fair held around graduation time.

Do licenses make professionals?

It seems that when the subject of the professional and technical licensing examinations comes up, everyone has a horror story. But in the case of the licensing exams for lawyers, architects, and accountants, they're necessary investments for career advancement. Yet to social workers and counselors, who work at the grass-roots level of society, it is the laws regulating social workers and psychologists that were passed in the late 1990s that have caused the most confusion and anxiety concerning their professional skills and their status.

Soochow University Department of Social Work professor Shane Wang, who works in both social work and counseling, was at first a moving force in the passing of the psychologist and social worker licensing laws but later came out strongly against them.

"The national testing apparatus using licensing exams to separate positions of power is, to professional workers seeking autonomy, a kind of 'symbolic violence!'" Wang aired his dissatisfaction with the system in the psychology journal Xinli Xin, expressing his doubt that "licensing" would equal "professionalization." He and other dissidents formed the Psychologist Law Observation and Action Team. By holding forums, setting up websites, and writing critiques of the exam questions, they built up their influence. They even went into government offices of every level as well as university guidance centers to convince counseling agencies not to limit themselves to "licensed" practitioners when hiring.

"I have to admit, our campaign never had the same draw as cram school courses," Wang says. "Also, writing critical articles is less practical than just passing the licensing exam. But the process of these actions has changed my professional life of helping people and has made me readjust my views on social work education."

Exams are a frightening transition point in people's lives. They are also socially constructed barriers. Whether or not one decides to take them, the national exams shape social values and shape our lives.

To test or not to test?

Another experienced counselor, Wang Lishu, spent two years working out the significance of the question of whether to take the exam by writing her own life story.

Wang, who has ten years of experience and specializes in story therapy and running group sessions, first thought back to the effect the medical licensing laws had on her father, a dentist in Yuanlin Township, Changhua County back in 1975-he'd gone from being a respected doctor to an underground practitioner afraid of being arrested. Wang then thought about her own professional outlook and the effect it had on her personal development.

While writing, she "subconsciously forgot" the enrollment schedule the first time she was due to take the exam. The second time she went to enroll, she lost her proof of her qualification to take it. She hurried to get it turned in, but she resisted studying. It was only after she got herself in order that she could concentrate on studying, and she was surprised to find that she felt 90% sure of passing it!

This new realization made her read each article of the psychologist licensing law carefully and imagine her life as a licensed practitioner-working within the system, following regulations for counselors. "I suddenly felt a wave of alienation wash over me," she says. "That didn't seem like my future."

After making a dialectical choice, Wang decided to refuse to take the exam and live a life on the margins. She also worked through the complex feelings she had about her father and actually became more clear about her main desires for the future: "Once I have spiritual freedom, I'll be able to concentrate more on expressing myself through speaking, storytelling, and writing. I also want to develop alternative ways to help people."

The question of whether or not to take one of the national exams is a difficult one that can crucially affect a person's career orientation. Whether they choose to pit their talents against the masses for a chance to squeeze in at the narrow door, or lift their heads and find a different path to follow, let us hope that they all find their direction in life and go forward without regrets.

The "golden scroll" on which the results of the Qing-Dynasty palace examinations were recorded. The old phrase "Passing the exam at 50 is young" illustrates how, out of those who dedicated their lives to passing the highest examination, only a minority would make it.

The posting of the exam results always leads to happiness in some families and disappointment in others. Students who maintain the attitude that they did the best they could and don't base their self-image solely on test results might come away with a better experience.

There are countless ways to prepare for an exam. Some people go online to exchange information, and others take leaves of absence from work to attend preparation courses full-time. There are also some who head outside with their books in the hope that a change of scene will ease the pain. No matter which method you use, your life will not be the same under the spell of the exam.