APRIL 2 — The day SPM results are released always carries a particular kind of tension.
School halls fill earlier than usual. Students arrive in small groups, some quiet, some trying to look relaxed.
Some parents wait outside, pretending not to be anxious. Some go inside together with their child, holding hands.
Teachers move around with a different kind of energy, half administrative, half emotional. There is anticipation in the air, but also something heavier. Something unspoken.
Because everyone knows that something more than results will be handed out that day. For many students, this is the first time they will be labelled: Best student. Average. Underperforming. Promising. Disappointing.
The words may not always be spoken directly, but they form quickly in conversations, in comparisons, in the way people respond.
A straight-A student walks out of the hall and suddenly becomes “the smart one.” Another who struggled begins to carry a quieter label, sometimes internalised long before anyone says it aloud.
And what makes these labels powerful is not the moment they are given, but how long they stay. At that age, it is easy to believe that the label is accurate.
That it reflects something permanent. That being “good at school” means you will always be ahead, and not doing well means you have somehow fallen behind for good.
But life does not work that way.
Some people are good at structured exams. They understand patterns. They manage time well. They perform under pressure.
These are valuable skills. But they are not the only skills that matter, and they are certainly not fixed traits that determine everything that comes after.
Others take longer to find their rhythm. They may not perform as strongly in an exam setting, but they think differently.
They adapt in other ways. They grow at a pace that is less visible in a results slip.
The problem is not the existence of results. Assessment has its place, of course. The problem is when results quietly turn into identity. Because once a label sticks, it begins to shape behaviour.
The “top student” feels the pressure to remain one. Mistakes become heavier. Choices become safer. There is less room to explore, because there is something to protect.
The “average” student may begin to lower expectations. Not always consciously, but gradually. Effort feels less meaningful if the outcome seems predetermined.
And those who are labelled as “struggling” may, unfortunately, start to believe that improvement is unlikely, even when it is entirely possible.
Looking back, I realise how many of us carried these early labels longer than we needed to.
Some of us spent years trying to live up to them. Others spent just as long trying to escape them. But in both cases, the label stayed in the background, quietly influencing decisions.
What SPM measures is performance at a particular time, place, and under very specific conditions.
It does not measure curiosity. It does not measure resilience. It does not measure how someone responds to failure, or how they grow when given time and space.
More importantly, it does not measure who you will become. That part remains open. And that openness can feel uncomfortable, because it means the version of you today, with or without the label, does not have to be the final one.
Perhaps the more useful approach is to treat results as information, not identity. They tell you something about where you are, not who you are. They offer feedback, not definition.
Because the truth is, most people do not stay where their SPM results place them.
Some who did exceptionally well will go on to thrive, as expected. Others may find themselves needing to relearn, to adjust, to rediscover direction.
Some who did not do as well may take longer routes, but eventually find spaces where they excel. Life, unlike exams, does not grade on a single scale.
So if you are receiving your results this week, take a moment to acknowledge them. They represent effort, discipline, and a specific chapter of your life that you have completed.
But be careful about the label that follows. You do not have to carry it longer than necessary. Because while this may be the first time the world tries to describe you in a single word or number, it will not be the last time you have the chance to redefine yourself.
And that part, unlike your results, is entirely up to you. Always.
* Nahrizul Adib Kadri is a professor of biomedical engineering at the Faculty of Engineering, the Director of UM Press, and the Principal of Tuanku Bahiyah Residential College, Universiti Malaya. He may be reached at [email protected]
** This is the personal opinion of the writer or publication and does not necessarily represent the views of Malay Mail.
