Exam and Philosophy: What actually determines intelligence?

Marcus Aurelius once wrote,

"They cannot admire you for intellect. Granted - but there are many other qualities of which you cannot say, 'but that is not the way I am made' So display those virtues which are wholly in your own power - integrity, dignity, hard work, self-denial, contentment. frugality, kindness, independence, simplicity, discretion, magnanimity."

Society taught us that academic intelligence is the highest form of power. That in itself is not a bad thing. However, the standards set by our ancestors have brought about discrimination — one who falls behind the academic standards is assumed to have a miserable future while those who excel academically are granted visible authority. The former is dismissed as possessing 'rogue' intelligence — practical knowledge viewed with suspicion. One might dismiss this observation as an assumption or negativity, but we must acknowledge the existence of this fact, for it has created a hierarchy of intelligence that shapes the way one perceives oneself and others. Does performing well on academic tests guarantee the life we idealize? If we made an impact on our community using rogue intelligence despite poor academic performance, does it mean that we could only take the miserable path? This remains unanswered, for there is no clearer example than my own experience.

In March 2024, I graduated with honors for the first time in 10th grade in the Philippines. Throughout the school year of 2023 to 2024, I've been on the academic achievers' lists. I felt satisfaction akin to my peers for the first time, leading me to believe that my abilities were sufficient — that it would equate to guaranteed livelihood improvement.

This was disrupted when I started my education in Senior High School. The environment was different. The students being competitive, objective, and near perfect to almost everything that we do, leaving no room for mediocrity. I thought that the academic tests level that I was used with since the 9th grade and achievement that I attained in the past was sufficient. Yet, when it comes to exams, the comprehension required was unfamiliar.

One morning in October 2024, I entered my first major examination for our communication subject, assuming I was prepared. I am used to listening with different people. I could understand the English structure. I am confident with my previous environment. When the test started, I was not familiar with the form of questions. They were orally pronounced on the class television. The sounds were unclear. The words coming out from the device came out blurry from my seat in the middle row.

My confidence did not arrive with me that day. Aware of this, there was a sudden tightening in my chest — realizing the danger of the failure to attain the ideal mark. The exam resulted in my failure, just one point behind the passing score with a mark of "44" on the paper.

I walked to the hallway after the exam, telling myself that I had been complacent. Pondering if I shouldn't strive for improvement because of my perceived incompetence, I reached a decision of becoming higher than my peers by learning multiple skills at once that involves communication.

After the exam week, I started to observe and learn that the great students around me who had adapted to the school system were leaders - that is, they had rogue intelligence from the start which they had attained during their leadership on various organizations. It led me to ask myself:

"Where do they find such an opportunity to upskill and gain advantage?"
"Should I taint myself of such intelligence?"
"Why do some students seem successful even if they are not academically bad?"

And so, I desired to become a leader. Not out of greed nor for the sake of power-tripping. But for attaining and enhancing skills. When I finally became one, a surge of fulfillment came to my mind. I started to think of my vision to expand my inventory, responsibility to make a change, and redemption for my failure.

This happened because I had a choice. Pitted in a situation where there are only ample of people attended for the first meeting on my first organization, I felt obliged to operate this from within along with my fellow leaders. As time passed by, I had joined many organization where I attained leadership positions along with skills. That skill ranged from management to public relations.

Of course it did, but not in the way I once expected.

The improvement was not immediate. My scores did not suddenly rise to perfection, nor did I regain the same effortless confidence I once had in junior high school. Instead, something more subtle changed. I began to approach problems differently — not just as questions to be answered, but as situations to be understood. The same skills I developed through leadership — communication, adaptability, and decision-making under pressure — began to reflect in how I studied and responded during examinations.

More importantly, I no longer saw academic performance as the sole measure of my worth.

There were moments when I spoke in front of groups, organized plans, and made decisions that affected others. In those moments, I realized that intelligence was not limited to written answers on a sheet of paper. It existed in action — in how one responds, leads, and persists despite uncertainty.

The “44” I once feared became a turning point rather than a definition. It revealed a limitation, but it also exposed an opportunity — one that could not be accessed through academic intelligence alone.

Looking back, the hierarchy I once believed in began to lose its certainty. The distinction between academic and “rogue” intelligence was not as rigid as I had thought. They were not opposing forces, but complementary ones. One develops structure; the other develops adaptability. One measures knowledge; the other applies it.

Marcus Aurelius was right. There are qualities within our control that are not reflected in rankings or scores. Integrity in failure. Dignity in effort. The discipline to continue despite uncertainty.

Academic intelligence may open doors, but it is not enough to walk through them.

And perhaps the greater mistake is not failing an exam but believing that a single measure of intelligence defines the limits of one’s future.