Bethan Marshall: Why is Shakespeare being dumbed down?

I often wonder what Shakespeare would make of the furore that occurs any time anyone suggests his plays are not being properly studied in schools. The current anger surrounding the new tests for 14-year-olds has been almost entirely fuelled by the redesigning of the Shakespeare paper. Rather than all the marks going to one essay on the Bard they will now make up less than half, the rest going on a spuriously connected writing task that has the smack of an O-level paper circa 1953.

Emerging is an unholy alliance between English teachers and the likes of Chris Woodhead, the former chief inspector of schools, and Nick Seaton, from the very right wing Campaign for Real Education. So what has produced this strange and dangerous liaison worthy of a play by Webster rather than Shakespeare?

Last summer the Qualifications and Curriculum Authority, unbeknownst to any English teacher, suggested cutting the Shakespeare paper from its current one hour and 15 minutes to 45 minutes. Estelle Morris, the former education secretary, fearing the wrath of the traditionalists, said no. The result is the paper being so roundly condemned by all who see it.

So intimately is Shakespeare connected with the standards debate that no self-respecting politician could have done anything else. What Morris did not understand, as the traditionalists acknowledge, is that the Shakespeare paper was always a bad exam. Pupils were required to respond to a pre-released extract from one of three of his plays. Only at 14 is Shakespeare examined in this way. At GCSE, and at A-level too, it is possible and usual to study his plays through coursework.

Far from dumbing down that enables a far more dynamic and challenging way to study Shakespeare. Free from the constraints of a narrow exam rubric, and the anxiety of straying too far from that predetermined brief, pupils are able, with the guidance of their teachers, to study the plays as they wish. Most significantly it allows the most able pupils to explore Shakespeare in far more depth. The proposed paper on Henry V highlights the difference starkly. The section that demands knowledge of the play simply asks pupils to discuss the impact of his famous speech on the eve of the battle of Agincourt. The subsequent writing task, which affords more marks, suggests that "When watching Henry V the audience might admire the king as a strong leader." Pupils are then asked to write a piece for a collection in their local library entitled "People we admire."

Quite apart from the cheesy "Calling all young writers" written in bold, the question is predicated on a stereotypical, narrow reading of the play. The power of the character of Henry V lies in the fact that he is not wholly admirable. It is Shakespeare's understanding of the ambiguity of leadership, and his avoidance of cliché, that makes him worth studying. Last year I watched an impressive lesson, being taught as part of GCSE coursework, that examined precisely this tension. The teacher looked at Henry V, as Prince Hal, in the preceding plays on Henry IV. He also examined Olivier's version of the play, made in the Second World War, and Kenneth Branagh's more recent rendering and explored how the context may have influenced the interpretations of his character. The subsequent essays that this mixed ability group of 15-year-olds wrote were insightful and complex.

I have little interest in Shakespeare as a heritage icon. Rather I want pupils to watch and read his plays because his writing has unparalleled power. And I do not want any falsely trendy, parsimonious, ticky box examination system to get between pupils and their opportunity to engage with the great dramatist.

I could list the legion failings of the two other new tests for 14-year-olds. The mark schemes are atomistic and relate almost entirely to pupils' ability to display grammatical features than write meaningfully. If the Shakespeare paper is bad, the test for reading is even more farcical. But that is an argument for another day. For now, unusually, I find myself agreeing with Chris Woodhead. Don't mess with the Bard.

The writer is lecturer in education at King's College London

education@independent.co.uk