“I’m sure some of you might have issues with how the school has evaluated you vs. how you have evaluated yourself. However, this is just the school’s current evaluation of you. If you’re unhappy about it, then show them what you’ve got. Do your best this year to convince the school to change their minds about you. Remember, the school isn’t all-knowing and omnipotent or anything,” said Chabashira.
“B-But how are we supposed to show them, sensei?!” wailed Ike, raising his hand in a panic after having confirmed that he was indeed ranked at the bottom.
“Well, here’s one way. There is admittedly a difference in accuracy when it comes to evaluating the physical abilities of a student who does participate in club activities vs. a student who does not. If you’re feeling confident in yourself, try joining a club,” said Chabashira.
She was saying that students who directly demonstrated what they could do to the school were more likely to be given more favorable treatment. However, students were still evaluated on a case-by-case basis. If one of them tried to show off too much, or too carelessly, it could lead to problems.
“It’s almost like we’re each fighting individual battles,” muttered Horikita, under her breath.
Chabashira didn’t miss what Horikita said. It seemed like the introduction of this app completely negated the kind of battles we’d been fighting so far—together, as a class. I was sure Horikita wasn’t the only one who felt that way.
“Well, that’s both incorrect and correct. This system, which is to be introduced starting this year, was proposed by the current student council president, Nagumo Miyabi. School administrators approved and adopted it,” said Chabashira.
So Nagumo’s dream of creating a system where individuals were assessed on their own merits had been realized. I was guessing the reason he didn’t make that many moves last year was because it took quite a bit of time and effort to get this app off the ground.
“But the fundamental concept remains unchanged. The school is expecting you to work together as a class, just as you’ve done so far. Please don’t forget that point, and continue to do your best, day after day,” said Chabashira.
After we finished installing the app and Chabashira finished giving us her explanation, our first period was to an end. Now that we had recess, students began to stare at their phones, noses glued to their screens. I was sure they wanted to see their own scores, as well as the scores of their classmates and students from the other classes.
“Well, I really don’t like that they’re treatin’ me like I have less common sense than Kouenji, of all people!” shouted Sudou after looking intently through the app, glaring at Kouenji as he did.
After I heard him say that, I decided to check for myself, while still keeping my ears open (though he was speaking so loudly that I could overhear pretty easily anyway).
2-D Kouenji Rokusuke
First Year Results
Academic Ability: B (71)
Physical Ability: B+ (78)
Adaptability: D- (24)
Societal Contribution: D- (25)
Overall Ability: C (53)
Given the fact that Kouenji had demonstrated a fair amount of proficiency regularly during class and on tests, he had scored highly in both academic ability and physical ability.
“What? Come on, dude, it’s like, whatever, right? ’Sides, you’re wayyyy better than he is when it comes to physical ability, man,” Ike grumbled, his jealousy clear in his voice, since he didn’t excel in any particular area.
“That’s prolly only ’cause Kouenji doesn’t take anything seriously. Though I hate to admit it,” said Sudou.
Just as Sudou had suggested, Kouenji’s physical abilities were exceptionally high. Off the charts even. He had potential equal to or greater than Sudou’s, but he wasn’t involved with any clubs and his participation in things like physical education class was wildly irregular, since it depended largely on his mood. If he wasn’t personally interested in something, he would skip it without a moment’s hesitation, or might even suddenly abandon it. It also wasn’t all that uncommon for him to just not lift a finger in the first place.
In contrast, Sudou always took things seriously, no matter the task. The results he achieved in that arena had put him at the top of the class. It was no wonder there was a huge gap in their assessments, even though they had similar physical ability.
The part that Sudou got tripped up on was societal contribution. In other words, the category that was all about manners and morals. In that regard, Kouenji, who was being singled out by Sudou right now, was just as much a problem child as Sudou. It seemed Sudou was really unhappy with the fact that he’d scored lower than Kouenji, even though it was only by a small margin.
It wasn’t like I didn’t understand why he might want to complain, but… I was guessing the reason Kouenji had scored higher than Sudou in societal contribution was because he hadn’t had as many opportunities to act to the detriment of the class or the school in general. It was no surprise that Sudou, given his suspension and violent outbursts and such, had scored lower.
Even though Kouenji had heard everything Sudou was saying, he acted as though it had nothing to do with him. He hadn’t even bothered looking at the OAA app more than what was strictly necessary, while everyone else seemed totally engrossed by it.
I supposed that after spending more than a year here at this school, the thing that had changed the least was probably Kouenji.
Anyway, we could now visualize what our grades were like for our first year. This move by the school—the introduction of this app—presented both advantages and disadvantages. For example, the existence of an overall ability category now provided a provisional ranking for the students in class. If a rather inconvenient special exam took place now, it wouldn’t be necessary to answer the question of who should step forward as a candidate for possible expulsion. The students with low overall ability scores would be the ones we’d focus on.
Ike—and Airi, since she was tied with him at dead last in the rankings—had to be very anxious right now. Like they were on pins and needles.
3.2
SECOND PERIOD BEGAN, the topic of the OAA app still lingering in the back of our minds. We were probably about to get to the other topic at hand. Receiving a full explanation about that other thing. Or so the students were thinking—and that prediction was quickly proved correct.
“And now, I’ll provide an overview of the next special exam,” said Chabashira, immediately launching into the topic as if she were starting a normal lesson. “This is your first special exam as second-year students, and it’s going to involve some unprecedented new ventures, the likes of which have never been seen before. Such as the introduction of this app.”
Was that Tsukishiro’s influence? Or was it Nagumo’s? At any rate, it seemed the school system was also undergoing some major changes.
“The crucial thing for you to know is that this will be a written test in which you second-year students will be partnered up with the new arrivals, the first-year students,” said Chabashira.
“Partnered up with… first-year students…?”
Up until this point, we’d hardly done anything that cut across the boundaries between grade levels. There were some exceptions, like the school camp, but that had still been part of the normal framework of inter-class competition. Had those walls been taken down with the introduction of OAA, then?
“In this special exam, you’ll be mainly assessed on your written test-taking skills and your communications skills,” said Chabashira.
Our academic and communication skills. At first glance, the two things didn’t seem to go together.
“The importance of this written text really needs no further explanation. But until now, the school has never had such in-depth interactions between students of different grade levels, except for things like the sports festival and the school camp. Which is precisely why the school has determined that its students’ communication skills were not as well-developed as they could be,” said Chabashira.
“B-But, we’re still competing against other classes in our grade, right? I dunno, it’s just like, something about this feels off,” said Ike, who looked a little unhappy about the fact that the first-year students were going to be heavily involved.
“I understand how you feel, but try thinking about it objectively. When you first go out into the world and join society at large, the people you encounter won’t just be new, fresh-faced graduates like you. Some might be in their second year in the workforce. You’ll even be competing with veterans who’ve been out in the world for twenty or thirty years. People much older or younger than you could come to be your rivals,” said Chabashira.
“That’s… Well, yeah, I guess I can picture that.”
“While other parts of the world are embracing meritocracy, many Japanese companies continue to be bound by systems of seniority and permanent lifetime employment. If you think it feels strange to interact with students older or younger than you, you should really change your perspective. To put it in terms that might be easier for you to understand, there’s a concept called ‘skipping grades’ that’s a widespread practice in places like the United States, England, and Germany. It’s not unusual for small children to study together with high school or even college students. Can you imagine and accept the idea of elementary school students here in this classroom, learning with you, in the same fashion?”
My classmates let their imaginations run wild, just as Chabashira had prompted them to do. And I was sure they still couldn’t understand it. It must have felt impossible or strange to them, and it was certainly true that skipping grades was rarely done in Japan. In fact, while there were certain conditions that had to be met in order for someone to skip grades, I was sure many people didn’t even know that it was possible to do so.
The idea of skipping grades didn’t really fit with the current status-quo in Japan, where learning was treated as something that you did in an equal or egalitarian manner, along a set, linear path. And so, the system wasn’t entirely accepted here. Personally, I had no resistance to the idea. There was no such linear learning style in the White Room.