I. The phobia and the false diagnosis
My niece once suffered from a debilitating fear of mathematics. It was an acute anxiety. She was convinced she lacked natural talent and could not focus. This belief stemmed partly from a cultural bias that girls are inherently unsuited for science and math. She concluded simply: I cannot be good at math because I’m incapable of concentrating.
That crippling anxiety persisted until she entered an international school in Ho Chi Minh City and met her Indian math teacher. Noticing her distress, the teacher initiated a conversation. She confessed her fear, her poor grades, and her certainty that her concentration skills were inadequate.
The teacher thought for a few days, then announced a highly unusual class contest: The Pi recitation challenge. The goal was simple: whoever memorized the longest sequence of the Pi number would win a crystal cup. No math genius was required; only dedication to the memory technique he taught them.
My niece, who had never won an academic contest, decided she had nothing to lose. She immersed herself in memorization, easily winning the first round among her small group. By the second round, she had memorized nearly 100 digits and won the class competition. By the final round, she won the coveted crystal cup, proudly taking home the first academic prize of her life.
II. The principle of restorative assessment
The teacher called her aside: “Congratulations on winning! But do you realize the more important thing? If you could memorize hundreds of digits of Pi, you are certainly not incapable of concentrating. You simply lacked confidence.“
The niece awoke to the reality: “You’re right! I can concentrate! I never thought of that before.”
The teacher then handed her a math exam: “Take this home. Solve what you can, and ask me about what you don’t understand.” She returned, having scored just over 50%. Dejected, she told him, “See, I told you I wasn’t good at math.”
He simply smiled, handed her a second test, and said: “Go home and do this one.” She asked, “What about the previous score?” He replied, “I will not record a score until you achieve 90% or better.”
She returned again and again, taking more than a dozen tests. Each time, her score crept up. Finally, she aced the full set of practice exams. The teacher gave her the official final test. She achieved a near-perfect score, and that was the grade he officially recorded.
The result was transformative. She excelled in mathematics in the IGCSE exams, earning praise from the testing board. She no longer feared math and understood that if she failed the first time, there would be a second, a third, until she achieved mastery. This year, she received scholarships to study Neuroscience and Mathematics at a top U.S. liberal arts university—subjects no one in her family ever thought she would pursue.
III. The institutional failure of trust
This true story contains the answer to Vietnam’s education reform: Why do we assess student ability through a handful of high-stakes tests?
Looking at the current system, I question the logic of forcing primary and junior high students to come to school for in-person exams, or requiring extensive camera monitoring for online tests, all based on the institutional fear that students will cheat.
- Why punish the majority for the sake of the few? We are creative enough to devise open-ended online assessments, group projects, and direct interviews that are sufficient to gauge a young student’s knowledge. Why insist on complex, costly, and high-pressure methods?
- The Second Chance Mandate: If we believe in giving people a “second chance” in life, why do we base a student’s educational trajectory on a single assessment? The purpose of education is to impart real knowledge, and knowledge requires repeated effort. Why are we stingy with opportunities for experience and retakes?
One of the first virtues we must teach our children is honesty and trust. How can we teach honesty if the entire educational process begins with institutional suspicion?
If I were in charge of assessment, I would allow multiple retakes and design exams that students can pass through practice and diligence. The spirit shown by students over two years of disruptive online learning during the pandemic alone deserves recognition. Their grit and determination often exceeded that of many adults.
The power of the Indian teacher’s method was simple: He gave the student courage by proving she was capable, and he gave her time by refusing to record failure until mastery was achieved. This is the innovation we should mandate.
