Once upon a time, at year's-end, you were sent home with a lovely little handwritten report in which the teacher recorded your basic grades, made a few comments on your general demeanour, and perhaps even added a smiley face to acknowledge that you were a child of just 7, say, and liked such touches.
These days, no 7-year-old's report can be understood by a 7-year-old. Nor by his 41-year-old, tertiary-educated mother. Filled with graphs, strange rankings and weird, coloured charts, the document provides a cold, numerical or alphabetical assessment on just three subjects: maths, reading and writing. As a parent, you feel like the class dunce when you have to call a fellow mum to ask: "What the **** does 1P mean, and why is it in a yellow triangle?"
In its sheer indecipherability, it looks remarkably like a marketing report. The Guardian this week explains why. To do so, it outlines the context around the Pisa survey, which studies maths, reading and science competencies in half a million 15-year-olds around the world (and last year showed New Zealand 15-year-olds slipping down the achievement table).
Pisa was developed as a way of showing patterns within data that would help countries shape a better education system. Unfortunately, it is now used much like the accursed league tables that I once put together as a Herald education reporter. Devoid of context (some schools don't allow slow learners to sit certain exams, for example), they mean nothing.