Let me tell you the tale of two young women. The first, Adeela*, left Afghanistan with her family and came to Australia by boat. Her family were in Port Hedland detention centre for six months and then settled in south-western Sydney. Her first day of Year 7 at the local government high school was also her first day of formal schooling. She had been taught to read and write by her mother, but could not yet speak English. Six years later she completed her HSC and gained a place at university.
The second woman is me. I was born to a middle-class family whose forbears arrived in Australia in the 1850s. Successive generations on my mother’s side were university-educated. Although my father was the first in his family to attend university, he became an academic. I went to a selective government high school that drilled us in examination technique. I also gained a place at university.
Statistics tell us that, in all likelihood, my Australian Tertiary Admission Rank was higher than Adeela’s. Data from the Universities Admissions Centre in 2019 shows that 57 per cent of students who achieved ATARs of 90 and above were from the highest socioeconomic status quartile. For the students from the lowest SES quartile, only 7.6 per cent achieved an ATAR of 90 and above.
There are many factors that affect educational outcomes that have nothing to do with the ability of the individual student. Results are influenced by the economic circumstances of the family, the resources available to that young person’s school and community, whether the student is from a regional or remote area, lives with a disability, has caring responsibilities, is from an Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander background or a non-English-speaking background.
Not taking account of these factors is like setting up a 100-metre race and allowing a quarter of the athletes to start at the 50-metre mark. But the analogy doesn’t stop there. If we allow entry to university based on ATAR alone, it is the equivalent of celebrating the winners of the race as the undisputed best athletes in the field, and then inviting only them to a special training program where they continue to improve their athletic prowess and gain access to lucrative sponsorship opportunities denied to the rest of the field.
Although a high ATAR is a strong predictor of academic success at university, particularly in the first year of study, research shows that a low ATAR does not correlate to failure. In fact, a study of students at Victoria University showed many low-ATAR students achieved high marks in their first year, particularly when they were appropriately supported by the university to succeed. For some cohorts, such as students from a non-English-speaking background, performance improved significantly over the life of the degree. In my experience at the University of Technology, Sydney, our low SES students succeed at levels equal and sometimes exceeding the broader undergraduate cohort.
Equity practitioners recognise that while the ATAR is a good and robust measure of scholastic achievement, it fails to capture the full aspirations, ability and potential of a learner. It can’t assess a student’s capacity for collaboration and creative problem-solving in team environments. It doesn’t speak to their volunteer work or leadership capacity. It does not account for “jagged profiles” – where a student excels in certain areas but performs poorly in others. Talent and potential can be missed by such a narrow indicator. At UTS, we have addressed this by creating a non-ATAR entry pathway that sits alongside our standard ATAR entry. Our U@Uni Academy develops and demonstrates the broader capabilities of potential students and targets those who would be unlikely to gain admission under the traditional approach.
UTS is not alone. Most universities provide a range of pathways to university including portfolio entry, academic history, interviews, schools’ recommendation schemes, bridging courses and aptitude tests. For mature-age entry, the ATAR is not used at all. Only 30 per cent of first-year Australian students gain their place at university based solely on their ATAR.
There was only one time in Australian higher education history when a significant improvement was made in access to university for low SES and other equity cohorts. This was from 2012 to 2017 and was the result of the federal government’s “demand funding” model. University places were uncapped, and resulted in growth across all student cohorts, but growth was significantly greater among equity cohorts. Whereas the rest of the undergraduate population grew by 17.7 per cent over this period, low SES participation grew by 29.8 per cent and Indigenous participation by 51.6 per cent.
Once the cap was reinstated, this growth ended. A capped funding environment means more competition for fewer places, and in these conditions educational privilege has once again proven decisive.
This is why it was so pleasing to see major universities this week announce new and ambitious targets for students from under-represented backgrounds. It is important that these new initiatives “grow the pie” and improve access for students who were not already on a path to gain entry to university.
Just as this week’s jobs summit is underpinned by the expectation that fairer and more equitable workplaces are a desirable outcome for the nation, so too must the new government’s proposed Universities Accord be underpinned by the principles of access and equity in higher education. There is every indication that this will be the case.
Adeela* (not her real name) achieved her HSC and gained entry to university via a pathway that recognised both her ATAR result and the unique circumstances in which she achieved it. She now has two degrees and is a successful businesswoman. This is just one example of why we need to broaden access to university beyond the narrow confines of the ATAR, and allow education to play the role it should always play, as an equalising force in an unequal world.
Originally publishing in the Sydney Morning Herald, 1 September 2022.