Most of the time when I’m watching TVM’s evening programme TV Hemm – who came up with this irritating name? – I find myself distracted by the presenter Norman Vella.

Maltese students, becoming more spoilt with each new generation, keep on living at home and so the car is the only of form of independence- Kristina Chetcuti

Not that I fancy him or anything. First off, there’s the fact that he seems to be on first-name-basis with everyone. “So John, what do you think…” he kept asking ex-Commissioner John Dalli the other day. I suppose it’s fine to call him John if you’re hanging out with him in a pizzeria or in a hotel in Gozo, but on television, it’s downright bad taste.

Then there’s the way he sits behind that desk thing of his – sort of half-leaning over it, his arms dangling over the edge, his fists clenching and unclenching. Sometimes I half expect him to make a grab for his guests.

But I digress. You see, I wanted to talk about a very good feature on his programme last week, which discussed student life at University, and the perennial parking problem on campus.

TV Hemm popped round to the University and spoke to students who were endlessly moaning that sometimes they “have to” miss their lectures because they can’t find anywhere to park their car.

A guest on the show, columnist Claudine Cassar, said complaints like this were un­heard of in universities abroad for the simple reason that students cannot afford cars.

The reasons for this are: a) students abroad leave the home nest and rent their own apartment in the vicinity of the campus; b) they can’t possibly afford a car because all the money goes into living expenses; c) there isn’t the culture that mummy and daddy give their 18-year-old a car wrapped up in a bow for their birthday (as we have here – ask any car salesperson).

Maltese students, becoming more spoilt with each new generation, keep on living at home, and so the car is the only of form of independence.

Ms Cassar’s point was that tertiary education is not only free for our students, but they also get a stipend – and there they were, not giving a hoot about missing lectures. She argued that therefore it would be better if that stipend money was invested in research instead.

And I couldn’t agree more. The time has come for a revamp of the system. Sadly, fear of losing votes will deter politicians from tackling the issue. But it is a fact that a free university should be more than enough as an incentive.

A system of scholarships for underprivileged students ought to be introduced and the millions spent on stipends should instead be channelled into research.

What is a university if ongoing academic research is sucked dry due to lack of funds? If the situation stays status quo, in a few years’ time the standard of the University of Malta will be equivalent to the University of Timbuktu.

It is already going downhill. Lecturers are frustrated, and it is common knowledge that many students (not all, I hasten to add) outsource their assignments; they get people to write their thesis because their English is ghastly; many consider tertiary education as a mere extension of secondary school.

Which is, of course, where the problem lies. These days, secondary school students can get more than half the stuff they write in their exam paper wrong and yet they still get the thumbs-up, because the pass mark, out of 100, is 40. Heads of schools strongly suggest to their teachers to raise a mark falling in the 35 per cent range, up to 40 per cent, to avoid hassle with parents and administration.

When you try to ask around for the logic behind this downturn, I get the whispered reasons: without that 40 pass mark, whole swathes of our secondary school students would fail miserably in all exams. Which, in turn, would mean that the number of pupils making it to higher education would be far, far, far lower. And that is a snag: for how can we otherwise hit the targets set by the Eurocrats?

I got an e-mail the other day from Education Minister Dolores Cristina (I’m getting e-mails from all MPs these days). She bandied about figures of the total number of students we have on paper.

“Dear Kristina-Isabella… isn’t that just great?” she wrote, in a turn of phrase straight out of a teen television sitcom.

As I watched our future academics and leaders of the country being interviewed on TV Hemm, concerned not about the quality of their studies, their research work and the opportunities that lie in front of them, but about the lack of parking space, my fists clenched in Norman-style and I said to myself: No, it’s not great at all.

krischetcuti@gmail.com

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