On Monday morning, as relentless monsoon rain submerged roads across Dhaka and several other parts of Bangladesh, thousands of Higher Secondary Certificate (HSC) candidates embarked on what should never have been part of any public examination: a struggle for survival before a test of knowledge.

Students walked through waist-deep water. Some relied on boats, rickshaws, and improvised transport after buses stopped operating on flooded roads. Many reached examination centres soaked, exhausted, and emotionally drained. Parents anxiously accompanied their children through dangerous streets, fearing not poor grades but accidents. Yet, despite widespread waterlogging and severe disruption, examinations proceeded as scheduled in most parts of the country.

Social media quickly filled with photographs of drenched students clutching admit cards above floodwater. Predictably, many celebrated these images as symbols of resilience.

But perhaps we are celebrating the wrong thing.

The real story is not the determination of the students. It is the failure of the institutions responsible for protecting them.

A modern education system should never require students to prove their commitment by risking their safety. When reaching an examination centre becomes more difficult than answering the examination paper itself, the system has already failed.

The Ministry of Education often argues that postponing nationwide public examinations creates enormous logistical complications. Indeed, coordinating millions of answer scripts, invigilators, transport arrangements, and academic calendars is no easy task. Yet governance is not measured by how conveniently institutions operate; it is measured by how responsibly they respond when extraordinary circumstances arise.

Ironically, the government has already demonstrated that postponement is possible. Earlier this week, HSC examinations were suspended in Chattogram and Rangamati because of flooding and severe waterlogging. The decision acknowledged that weather conditions could jeopardise students' safety. However, only days later, thousands of students elsewhere were expected to navigate hazardous conditions despite experiencing similar disruptions. Such inconsistency raises an uncomfortable question: what exactly constitutes an emergency worthy of intervention?

The problem extends far beyond one rainy morning.

Bangladesh is among the countries most vulnerable to climate change. Heavy rainfall, flash floods, urban waterlogging, and extreme weather events are becoming increasingly frequent. Climate resilience can no longer remain confined to environmental policy; it must become an integral component of educational planning.

Yet the education system continues to operate as though these disruptions are exceptional rather than predictable. Examination schedules remain rigid, contingency planning remains limited, and communication with students often comes too late. As climate risks intensify, administrative inflexibility is no longer merely inefficient—it is irresponsible.

What makes the situation even more troubling is the unequal burden it places on students.

A candidate living in an affluent neighbourhood may still find a private vehicle to reach the examination centre. Another from a low-income household may have no choice but to walk through flooded streets because public transport has ceased operating. Rural students frequently travel much longer distances under far more hazardous conditions. Thus, the same examination begins under vastly unequal circumstances.

An examination is supposed to assess preparation, not privilege.

Nor should we ignore the psychological cost. HSC is already one of the most stressful milestones in a Bangladeshi student's academic life. Students spend months preparing under immense pressure. Forcing them to worry about whether they can physically reach the examination hall safely only compounds anxiety and inevitably affects performance.

Perhaps the most disappointing aspect of the episode is the contradiction in government priorities.

In recent months, the Ministry of Education has announced several initiatives aimed at strengthening examination management, including enhanced monitoring, greater transparency, and technological improvements. These are welcome reforms. However, sophisticated administrative systems lose much of their value when they fail to address the most basic question: can students safely sit for the examination?

Technology can monitor examination halls, but it cannot compensate for flooded roads.

Bangladesh needs a comprehensive climate-responsive examination policy. Decisions should not rely solely on administrative convenience but on objective indicators, including Bangladesh Meteorological Department forecasts, Flood Forecasting and Warning Centre assessments, transport accessibility, and local government reports. Regional flexibility, alternative examination schedules, and rapid communication mechanisms should become standard features rather than emergency improvisations.

Other public institutions have already recognised that severe weather sometimes necessitates temporary closures. On the very day heavy rainfall paralysed parts of Dhaka, several schools suspended classes and examinations to protect students. The contrast with the handling of HSC examinations is difficult to ignore.

This is not a call for unnecessary postponements. Public examinations are important, and excessive delays can create genuine academic complications. However, protecting students from foreseeable danger is not administrative weakness; it is responsible governance.

The images of soaked HSC candidates should not become symbols of national pride. They should serve as reminders of institutional shortcomings.

Bangladesh's young people have repeatedly demonstrated extraordinary resilience—during the pandemic, floods, political instability, and countless disruptions. Their perseverance deserves admiration.

But resilience should never become an excuse for governmental complacency.

Students have fulfilled their responsibility by preparing for one of the most significant examinations of their lives. The least the state can do is ensure they are not forced to risk their safety simply to enter the examination hall.

A nation is not judged by how many examinations it successfully conducts. It is judged by whether it values the lives, dignity, and wellbeing of the students taking them.

On that measure, the Education Ministry still has much to learn.