'Half term week – heaven or hell?' - Wolverhampton education consultant weighs in on pressures to study during school holidays as GCSE season looms

But I have become increasingly concerned about the overt emphasis placed on measurable attainment – and the anxiety that inevitably follows.

Of course, I believe in standards. I believe in rigour. I believe that qualifications can transform lives.

But I am convinced that we have crossed a line – that our fixation with measurable attainment has tipped into something unhealthy, even ideological.

We say we are educating. Often, we are simply training for assessment.

Decades ago, at an FE college not far from Wolverhampton, I saw the system reveal itself with startling clarity. I was teaching Seamus Heaney to an A-level class. The specification required students to study a prescribed selection from four collections. Fair enough. But literature is not a ration pack. So, I briefly widened the lens. I introduced them to Heaney beyond the anthology – the development of his voice, the politics beneath the pastoral, the mythic undercurrents, the spiritual unease.

In other words, I treated him as a human being rather than an exam commodity.

I was called into a meeting.

I was formally reprimanded by my line manager. The charge? Teaching beyond the required poems. The fear? That exposing students to Heaney’s wider body of work might distract them from what would ‘actually be examined.’

Read that again.

Intellectual breadth – wider reading – was framed as a risk. Curiosity was treated as inefficiency. Depth was seen as deviation.

The message was clear: Stick to the four collections. Follow the scheme of work. Do not stray.

I left that meeting not angry but troubled. Because what was really being defended was not student welfare, but institutional performance. Results drive league tables. League tables drive funding, recruitment, reputation. And so the system quietly rewards compliance over courage.

We talk endlessly about inspiring young minds – and then confine them to bullet points.

During half term, the machine accelerates. Students rehearse model answers like scripts. They memorise examiner-friendly phrases. They learn how to ‘hit the assessment objectives.’ And when technique eclipses thought, we are no longer educating; we are manufacturing.

As a government policy advisor, I see the fallout. Perfectly capable teenagers interpreting a mock grade as a referendum on their intelligence. Sixteen-year-olds convinced that one bad week will permanently derail their lives. Bright students asking, ‘What do I need to write for an A?’ before asking, ‘What do I actually think?’

That is not academic ambition. That is anxiety institutionalised.

Perhaps my resistance to this culture is rooted in something personal. My Hindu parents never pressured me academically. Not once did they tell me I wasn’t good enough. Not once did they compare me to others. Education was valued – deeply – but love was not conditional on performance.

Because of that, I pursued achievement without fear. I worked hard because I wanted to, not because I was terrified of falling short. I did well academically – and I remained emotionally intact. My identity was never fused to a grade boundary.

Sadly, too many young people today are not afforded that luxury.

The tragedy is that the qualities that actually determine long-term success – resilience, adaptability, intellectual independence – cannot be easily plotted on a spreadsheet. So they are sidelined. We measure what is convenient, not what is profound.

Exams in June matter. Preparation during half term matters. But when education becomes a high-stakes treadmill from which students feel they cannot step off, we should pause.

If a teacher can be reprimanded for teaching the wider poetry of Seamus Heaney, then we have to ask what we truly value. Are we cultivating thinkers – or simply efficient candidates?

Grades are useful, but they are not sacred. They measure performance under timed conditions. They do not measure character, critical thinking skills, or imagination.

And if we continue to pretend that they do, we should not be surprised when stress becomes the defining feature of adolescence.

So, this week should not feel like a siege. Remember that real education should enlarge the mind – not shrink it to fit the scheme of work, assessment objectives, and exam papers.