The early modern university was built upon the routine of oral examination. These disputations were a public spectacle, designed to test the mettle of young men whilst surrounded by their peers. As Christopher Stray relays in his essay “From Oral to Written Examinations,” senior examiners would spar with examinees in highly ritualized verbal debates—often in Latin—over the merits and pitfalls of classical authors while student observers weighed in with defense or disagreement. The process served both to prove the worth of the examinee and initiate underclassmen into the rhetoric and rigor required for admission to academic ranks.
By the mid-1700s, the public disputation gave way to the pin-drop silence of Cambridge written examination halls. Stray recounts that the move to written examination stemmed from a desire to establish more precise ranking. It was easier to assess and rank a pool of students when one could physically compare their written work and assign strict numerical marks. Nor would examiners be swayed by the verve of a crowd or the social clout of an examinee. Written exams could stand on their own merits under the scrutiny of the examiner’s pen. This preoccupation with precision, Stray argues, reflected the emerging ethos of Newtonian mathematics, which Cambridge was one of the first to claim. As a larger cultural shift away from Classics toward a more “algebraic atmosphere” took hold of universities, precise rankings meant examiners could quantitatively know who was the best.[1]
I begin with this brief foray into an earlier era of academic evaluations to state that oral finals are neither innovative nor new. They were the fixture of early modern academic life, for better or worse, only later to be largely replaced with formal written examinations, research papers, and the distinctive American standardized tests. But despite the seeming “march of progress” this trend toward the written might suggest, as soon as I became a professor, I chose to use oral examinations and never looked back. In this essay, I will share about the model that I use, why it works for my pedagogy goals, and the benefits of more personalized examination that might translate to other classrooms.
The Process
I first learned how to give oral exams while a teaching assistant for Dr. Elizabeth Castelli (Barnard College) and all credit for my model goes to her. Together we set aside two days during finals to meet individually with students for 25 minutes each. We engaged in conversation around a set of pre-circulated exam questions, probing the student’s knowledge and ability to apply what they had learned in an extemporaneous setting. As a child of the 90s who grew up on standardized tests and written Blue Book exams, I was captivated by the oral exam setting. Rather than regurgitate multiple choice answers or formulaic essay prompt responses, students reflected upon the course material in an expansive way. They shared personal anecdotes connected to their thinking about the course material, shared surprising insights, and asked lingering questions. When gaps in their knowledge became apparent, we could immediately veer the student back on the path or clear up misunderstandings. The oral exam treated students like people with their own viewpoints by encouraging personalized answers rather than standardized outputs.
I have since adapted the model that I learned from Castelli and use this method in every introductory level course that I teach at Kenyon College. The process begins with the writing of 10 “big questions,” which are actually topics spanning the course that are broken down into a series of questions animated by thematic concerns.
Here is an example from my introductory Hebrew Bible class exam:
1. We began this course with an examination of ancient interpreters and their approach to biblical stories and texts. Using concrete examples from the biblical and extrabiblical texts we read and /or discussed as the primary sources for your discussion, describe Kugel’s “4 Assumptions” and the relationship between ancient interpreters and biblical texts. Consider what the assumptions of ancient interpreters reveal about notions of sacred texts, authorship, and inspiration. How does the ancient practice of rewritten Bible complicate modern senses of canon? What is the relationship between the assumptions of ancient interpreters and modern interpreters? What similarities do they share? What differences emerge?
I design these big questions with particular aims. I want to leave it open enough that students could approach the topic from different angles, but specific enough that they know how to study. I reference Kugel’s “4 Assumptions” to signal where to look in their notes and the concrete examples that we discussed in class related to that concept. They could choose any textual example that comes to mind, but for those who might struggle identifying a good source, they should know to look back at the Kugel reading and corresponding lecture. I then ask a series of sub-questions that could have different answers but that target a particular aspect of the conversation that I want them to reflect upon. They could run with a long excursus about what it means for a text to be sacred or they could dive into a rewritten Bible example to illustrate their thinking. Or, they could engage Kugel’s dichotomy between ancient and modern interpreters and raise their disagreements, personal ideas, or reflect upon different postures of reading. The point is that students would have the parameters of the question sketched for them so that they could craft a response that reflects their own insights from the material.
When the student arrives for their individual oral exam, they select one of the ten pre-circulated exam questions and then I select two or three (depending on time). They should ideally begin the exam on a strong foot since they will have had ample time to prepare for their chosen question. As they answer the question, I ask impromptu follow-up questions that probe the depths of their understanding. Once I feel that they have sufficiently—or at least had sufficient time—to engage the question, I move on to another question until we reach the end of our 25-minute exam.
Students may bring one page of handwritten notes with them to the exam. I learned that if I leaned more flexible, they would bring 10 to 15 page scripts and read off of them during the exam. I emphasize that this is a conversation, not a table read.
How to Grade
When grading student performance in oral exams, I have the following rubric in mind:
A – detailed, thorough, with specific textual examples to illustrate their thinking
B – has a basic grasp of concepts but mixed up some details and/or lacked textual examples or could not move beyond basic information
C – confused, vague, clear lack of preparation
D – egregious errors / were they even in class?
The early modern Cambridge critics of oral examinations noted rightly that oral exams are less mathematically precise than written marks, but that does not mean that these grades are solely subjective.
To take the example question above, a student must be able to articulate Kugel’s 4 Assumptions. I call this aspect of the question “foundational concepts and terms” that might have appeared on a short answer or multiple-choice written exam. It requires memorization to relay the correct concepts and preparation to link each term to a specific textual example.
Then I assess how well students move beyond the foundational concepts. Can they engage the pressing questions and concerns prompted by the topic? Can they frame their own position or ideas in relation to the assigned reading? Do they have command of concrete textual examples to illustrate their answers? It becomes apparent quite quickly how deep a student is able to go with any given topic.
The best students ordinarily have amply prepared with polished responses, specific textual examples, developed analytical thoughts, and can speak extemporaneously about the material. In these cases, I use the occasion to push these students beyond the foundational concepts and their prepared answers to engage larger order questions. The grade is assuredly an A, but I use this opportunity to push their thinking and challenge them with unexpected and harder questions.
The majority of students can correctly answer most, if not all, foundational concept questions asked and might even be able to think expansively about them. The depth of their knowledge might not run much deeper, but they’ve done the job asked of them, which ordinarily lands them in the A to B territory, depending on how specific they were in their answers and the quantity of minor errors.
The few who struggle usually suffer from either lack of preparation or failure to keep up with the readings / attend class or major confusion about the material. When I sense that this exam is off the rails, I switch gears. Instead of focusing on foundational terms that they clearly do not remember, I try to engage basic questions that draw upon their personal experience, such as “why do you think Joseph and Aseneth did not make it into the canon?” Here I hope they at least remember that we read and talked about the book, but rather than focus on details, I ask them a general question that asks for their personal opinion. Even if they do not remember the book itself, they might understand the issue of inclusion in the Bible’s canon. This kind of question can sometimes unlock solid responses that lifts a student into a slightly higher grade range.
The Benefits
The benefits of oral exams are manifold. First and most utilitarianly, grading is done on the spot. In between each student, I write one paragraph of feedback explaining why they received the grade that they did. Every semester I sigh with satisfaction when I finish my final oral examination. As the last student leaves my office, I plug in the final grades and sign off from the semester. My grading is finished by the end of finals week. Second, oral exams provide opportunities for me to clear up misinformation. Sometimes I can see a student veering off course or stating incorrect information. In those cases, I can ask questions that guide a student back to what they know and clear up any misinformation. If a student stumbles in a written exam, there is no lifeline. Oral examinations depend on conversation that can illuminate misunderstanding and provide a memorable moment to relearn something.
Finally, it humanizes the examination process. Precisely what the turn to written examinations sought to avoid is the benefit that I have found in oral examinations. Instead of hours spent reading written exams trying to distill each student into a numerical mark, I am able to engage each student on their own terms. I am aware of each student’s strengths and weaknesses, and I tailor my questions to challenge them in their thinking at whichever level they are.
I have also never needed to give disability accommodations to students, who might otherwise require time and a half or an alternative testing location for a written examination. The major issue that may come up is testing anxiety—a feeling that cannot be avoided—and so I work one on one with the student. I tell all of my students that they may never write a research paper or take a written exam again after graduation, but they will have to do interviews. It is far better to have a first oral interview experience when the stakes are relatively lower / no job hangs in the balance. I may need to have a box of tissues ready for impromptu anxiety tears or to give a student a break to breathe, but I sit gently with them through the process and they come out on the other side more confident and assured in their skills.
I find myself learning from each exam experience. Students continually surprise me with the personal anecdotes or ideas that they share in relation to the course material. Sometimes students share conversations they have had with parents, grandparents, or peers. Other times students connect a question’s topical focus to current events in delightfully meaningful ways. By giving students the space to take command of their learning, the examination process is personalized to their thinking at the same time as assessing basic comprehension of the class material.
Conclusion
Teaching at a SLAC affords me the privilege of smaller class sizes (ordinarily no larger than 25) and so the time investment of oral exams is limited. I do not think the model is easily scaled for classes of larger sizes. In fact, I hesitated to write about oral exams precisely because it’s not going to work in every classroom. But we are now in an era where academia is scrutinizing written work anew. Chat-GPT and large language models raise new questions about take home assignments, papers, and even written examinations. Other concerns about the preoccupation with rote memorization for standardized testing has educators rethinking the purpose of evaluation in assessing critical thinking and embodied knowledge.
While I do not think we should return to the raucous boy’s club of the early modern oral disputations, there is an important element to consider. Oral examinations asked examinees to take command of their learning in ways tailored to their personal perspective, which leads to greater memory retention. Rather than a one-size fits all approach to examination, each oral exam is different. I argue that this subjective component is the strength rather than weakness of oral examinations. Contemporary educators know that differentiated instruction encourages flexible and dynamic learning. Whether differentiating process, content, learning environment, or assessment, the goal is to encourage independent learners who can process new material in a personalized and therefore memorable way.
My goal with oral examination is to evaluate how well students take command of the material and activate their critical thinking. While they are still expected to learn foundational terms and concepts ordinarily tested on written exams, I am more interested in assessing their ability to think with the material. For that reason, the spontaneity and personalization of oral examinations lend themselves well to my classroom. I want to resist the impulse to see my students as numerical marks to be ranked against each other. Instead, I encourage their individuality, unique ways of seeing the world, and habits of thought to become partners in the evaluation process.
[1] Stray, “Oral to Written Examination,” 110.