Education is often mistaken for the rigid process of regurgitating facts, cramming textbooks, and the unforgiving judgment of an exam script. But in its purest form, education is the cultivation of intellect, the refinement of thought, and the shaping of character. It is a process that should assess not just how well one recalls knowledge in a timed setting but how deeply one understands, reflects, and applies it.
This principle was immortalized in the remarkable experience of my father, Patrick Frederick Kunya, a man of noble blood, raised in the corridors of royalty, the son of a distinguished statesman—the first black mayor in East Africa and the former Zibondo of Bulamogi, knighted by the Queen of England with the Commander of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire (CBE). He was educated in the finest institutions of his time—King’s College Budo and Busoga College Mwiri—before finding his way to Newcastle University, a place that left an indelible mark on his intellectual formation.
One fateful day, after writing his final exam, my father, like many students, found himself in a post-exam analysis session with his colleagues—a ritual where the ghosts of forgotten formulas, overlooked approaches, and misfired responses haunt even the brightest minds. It was in that moment of reflection that dread gripped him—he had misfired on a crucial question, not out of ignorance but out of inadvertence, a fleeting lapse in recall. Panic set in.
A Rare Act of Academic Grace
Without hesitation, he sprinted back to the exam hall, hoping against hope that he could appeal for some form of reconsideration. As he burst into the room, he found his professor meticulously packing the scripts into his bag, about to leave.
“Sir, please, I have made a mistake,” he stammered, his voice trembling with both fear and urgency.
The professor, with a measured patience characteristic of great educators, turned to him. “Why do you believe you have made a mistake?” he inquired.
And so, my father, in a desperate attempt to redeem himself, painstakingly explained the question, the correct approach he should have used, and why his original response was incorrect.
What followed was an act of profound academic grace. The professor, without hesitation, reached into his bag, retrieved my father’s script, and—before his very eyes—tore it into small pieces.
For a moment, the world stood still.
Was this his doom? Had his fate been sealed in an irreversible judgment of failure? His heart pounded, his mind raced. The weight of that singular action was suffocating.
Then, the professor spoke words that would forever redefine my father’s understanding of true education:
“Patrick, you have passed.”
My father, still in shock, could barely process the moment. “But… how? Why?”
And the professor, with a knowing gaze, delivered a lesson that transcended the mere confines of that examination hall:
“My job is to evaluate whether you understand what I taught. You have just demonstrated that you not only recognize your mistake but that you know the correct answer. That, my dear student, is learning. I would be failing in my duty as a teacher if I judged you solely on a slip of the pen when your mind clearly holds the knowledge I sought to impart.”
My father went on to graduate with a Second Upper degree from Newcastle University—not because of an arbitrary grade on a piece of paper but because his professor understood what many educators today have forgotten: True education is about understanding, not mere examination scores.
A Stark Contrast: The African Educational Mindset
And here arises a deeply unsettling question: How many African professors or lecturers would have done what that British professor did?
The reality is that in many African institutions, the examination paper is treated as the ultimate and final decree. A small mistake in recall, a misinterpretation of a question, or even a mere oversight is often met with ruthless grading, merciless marking, and no room for intellectual discourse. The system, in many cases, does not seek to educate but rather to eliminate.
It reminds me of the Kiganda saying:
“Kyoyagaliza embaazi kibuuyaga akisuudde.”
(That which you have longed to cut down with an axe, a strong wind has blown down for you.)
In essence, many educators take pleasure in failure, in seeing students crumble under the weight of a single exam script rather than recognizing and nurturing intellectual potential.
A Call for Human-Centered Education
Professor Ben Twinomugisha, in a joint university marking session, once reminded us:
“Always remember, when marking, that behind every script, there is a human face.”
This simple yet profound statement should be the guiding philosophy of all educators. A test score is not just a number—it is tied to dreams, struggles, potential, and a student’s very sense of worth.
Similarly, Dr. Dorothy Kwagala once imparted a wisdom that remains etched in my mind:
“If I teach you and you fail my paper, I will give you a retake. If you fail the second time, I will give you a pass—not because I am complacent, but because I know the world will teach and shape you.”
This is true education. It acknowledges that learning is an ongoing process, that a student is more than their worst day, and that knowledge should never be confined to the rigid boundaries of a single test.
The Takeaways: Rethinking Education in Africa
- Examinations Should Be a Means, Not an End.
The purpose of an exam should be to assess understanding, not to instill fear or impose arbitrary judgment. - Teaching Should Cultivate, Not Destroy.
A true educator is one who seeks to nurture knowledge, not wield power over students through rigid, punitive grading. - Mistakes Are a Part of Learning.
To err is human; to recognize and correct one’s mistake is the true measure of intellect. - Education Should Be Student-Centered.
Every student is a person, not just a statistic. The job of a teacher is not to eliminate students but to bring out the best in them. - The Real World is the Ultimate Teacher.
Sometimes, the greatest lessons come not from a classroom but from the school of life. Recognizing this reality can allow educators to be mentors rather than mere gatekeepers of grades.
A Final Reflection
I often wonder how different the world would be if every professor, every teacher, and every lecturer adopted the mindset of my father’s professor at Newcastle University, of Professor Twinomugisha, and of Dr. Dorothy Kwagala.
Education should never be a weapon of oppression, but a tool of empowerment. It should not be an unforgiving system that rejoices in failure, but a compassionate journey that uplifts and transforms.
It is time for a new dawn in education. A dawn where the human face behind every exam script is recognized, where learning is prioritized over mere grading, and where students are encouraged to grow beyond their mistakes rather than be defined by them.
RELATED: Is your education educating you
Because true education is not about how well you fill out an exam paper. It is about how well you understand, think, and apply knowledge in the world beyond the classroom.
