Exams in Denmark vs. Oxford: A Different Philosophy of Learning

Do you know what exams look like at Oxford? The exam day arrives, students don their gowns and caps, enter a vast hall, and sit at an ancient table reserved just for them. In front of them lies a single sheet of paper. The clock starts ticking, and they are required to write an essay in response to the question before them. To manage this, they need to memorize quotes and references by heart. How do they do it? I have no idea. I was spared this experience. Just as the pandemic began, Denmark seemed far more appealing than the ancient walls of Oxford. I sent an email: Thank you for the offer, but no thanks.

But the reason Oxford continues with this ridiculous examination system is that traditions are not broken there.

In Copenhagen, exams are different.

The semester in Copenhagen began, and the lecturers spoke about the exam that would be available at the end of the course. The assignment was projected on the board, and at first, I didn’t fully understand. Gradually, the system became clear to me. In Denmark, there are almost no exams in the sense I had known all my life. There’s no bizarre ritual of memorizing material and regurgitating it onto the page for three hours while munching on chocolate and practicing pelvic floor exercises to hold it in. Here, there are two types of exams: oral, where you sit in front of two examiners and discuss the material, or written — meaning actual writing.

In every course, we were required to choose a case, analyze it, and apply what we learned in class. Thus, I found myself writing a sort of small seminar paper in each of the six courses.

No memorization — application of knowledge.

When I told Danish friends about the examination system in Israel, they were horrified. Here, they explained, the focus is not on whether you can memorize, but on whether you can use the material you learned. If you can convey it back to the public that funded your studies. If you can write a text from it. If you can work with others, explain, ask, communicate. After all, that’s what happens in the world after graduation.

I know what you’re thinking. Today, with chat, everything is easier, and writing an essay takes just a few minutes. True, this Danish system has a serious challenge. But the truth is, it wasn’t the lecturer I wanted to impress; it was the students around me, and they would be much harder to work with.

Feedback from peers and group work.

During the semester, we were offered personal feedback on our work. From whom? From other students in the group we were assigned to. The lecturers read the papers but only provided collective feedback. So I sat, read others' essays, gave them comments, and received feedback in return. The lecturer dedicated the last part of the class to tell us what we were doing well and what needed improvement. Who did what? Is he referring to me? There’s no way to know.

And that’s still not the end. Some courses also required a group assignment, written together with the randomly assigned group. Four or five students. We had to divide tasks, align different perspectives, read an unreasonable amount of material, interview subjects, and type together one coherent text.

Danish diplomacy and one conversation.

I, who grew up in Israel, am used to discussions where everyone interrupts each other, and at a table of five people, three conversations develop simultaneously. I had to learn to stop, wait, and count to three in my head from the moment someone finished speaking before I said what I had to say. I learned to politely say: Sorry, oops, go ahead. I learned Danish diplomacy: instead of telling someone, “What nonsense you’ve written here,” to say, “It’s wonderful that you remember to note all the references.” Danes are skilled in diplomatic practices from a young age. You see, they practice diplomacy and teamwork from kindergarten through university. And the results are evident among neighbors, on the street, in cafes, on television, and certainly in Danish politics.

You will find tables here with more than ten friends, all engaged in one conversation that is unfolding, and everyone is equally active in it.

Broad coalitions.

In politics and also in workplaces, you won’t see small coalitions here that depend on the grace of one person. Danes understand, in their bones, that decisions made with too small a consensus do not hold up. Therefore, they strive for broad coalitions and consensus. It takes more time, but it produces stable results and people who feel they have been listened to.

Our society will be what we practice it to be. Not what we tell it over and over to be.