ADOI, anak-anak semua rejoice! Apparently, you can now pass with 20%. Yes, dua puluh peratus saja – that is right – you can practically spell your name wrong and still get a “Good job, keep it up!”
If this sounds like satire, it’s not; it’s Malaysia, 2025 edition – where exams are starting to look more like self-esteem workshops than assessments.
And if you think Makcik’s exaggerating, just look at the theSun’s front page on Sept 30, where the nation’s collective jaw is still on the floor. (Pssst… it’s still up on the iPaper if you need proof.)
Once upon a time, 40% was the line between “ok-lah” and “prepare your last rites”. Your mother would storm into your room with your report card like it was a crime scene file. But now? We are told 20% is enough to pass. Even TikTok dance challenges have higher entry requirements, sayang.
Let’s unpack this academic nasi lemak, shall we?
A score of 20% used to mean you studied the wrong syllabus, panicked halfway and wrote “God bless me” in the essay section. It was the academic equivalent of “eh, at least I tried”. But now, that same effort supposedly earns a passing grade. Wah, what an era – we have officially rebranded failure as progress.
It’s giving “group therapy disguised as policy”. You show up, scribble something vaguely relevant and the system pats your head like a confused cat: “You tried, kan? So, pass-lah.”
Hold your horses, Makcik isn’t a monster; she believes in kindness, empathy and not traumatising children with red ink. But there is a fine line between being compassionate and being complacent. And my dear, this 20%-to-pass idea doesn’t blur that line; it pole-dances on it.
If 20% is now considered “passing”, what message are we sending? That effort doesn’t matter and mediocrity is acceptable as long as it is wrapped in pastel-coloured “mental health” packaging? Because let’s be honest, not every low mark is a cry for help. Sometimes, it is just the result of not studying.
Picture this: “Don’t worry, doc, I know you only got 20% in anatomy
but you passed!”
Next thing you know, you wake up from surgery missing your appendix, wallet and sense of security. Or imagine an engineer who scraped through with 20% in physics. The bridge he designs won’t just collapse; it will qualify as a modern art installation, titled “Falling Standards”.
Even the makciks at pasar malam know better. If your kuih turns out right only 20% of the time, you don’t sell it; you fix the recipe.
Standards matter-lah.
When you lower the bar so far that it is grazing the floor tiles, you are not lifting people up; you are teaching them to trip gracefully. Maybe the intention is noble. Maybe someone in the ministry thought: “Let’s reduce
the stigma of failure and nurture confidence.” Beautiful words, darling, but inclusivity without quality is just pity in PowerPoint form.
You can call it “modern grading” but if a student who barely attempts the paper walks away with a pass, we are not helping them succeed; we are handing out delusions like door gifts.
And what about the hardworking students – the ones who actually study until their eyebags qualify for EPF? The ones who survive on Maggi, panic and pure caffeine? They will get lumped together with those who wrote “I don’t know” in beautiful cursive.
How is that fair? You can’t flatten effort like you flatten chapati. It kills motivation faster than a Friday evening “urgent” email from the boss.
What’s next? A 10% pass mark because “we must nurture self-esteem”? Exams, where all multiple-choice answers are correct? “Just choose what resonates with your truth”?
We have entered the era of “bare minimum”.
Tagline: “Why aim high when you can pass low?”
This isn’t empowerment; it is quiet surrender – the academic version of “malas nak gaduh”.
Because here’s the truth, sayang: a low bar doesn’t lift the weak; it weakens everyone. When passing becomes meaningless, excellence becomes optional. Teachers lose drive, students lose direction and parents lose faith. And one day, we will all wonder why our “graduates” can’t write an email without emojis or confusion.
Education isn’t supposed to be easy; it is supposed to be transformative. A pass mark should mean something – that you have understood, not that you have existed. We don’t need more pity passes; we need passion, rigour and systems that actually teach students how to think, not just how to be graded.
Because when the real world hits – with deadlines, bosses, clients and bills – nobody’s handing out 20% pity passes.
If the powers-that-be truly want to build resilient students, then stop adjusting the goalposts. Build classrooms that excite, teachers who inspire and policies that make sense outside ministry memos.
And if you’re reading this and thinking, “Cannot be-lah”, then grab that copy of theSun – with the front page bright and bold. The numbers are there. The debate is real. The standards, sadly, are not.
Until then, Makcik will be here, sipping her teh tarik, shaking her
head with love and disbelief, muttering, “You pass with 20%, I can pass out already.” Because Malaysia deserves better, and so do our kids.
Azura Abas is the associate editor of theSun.
Comments: letters@thesundaily.com