Egypt's Sisi reviews transport projects, urges timely completion of infrastructure plans:

Every summer, when Egypt announces the results of the Thanaweya Amma—the nationwide secondary school examination that determines university admission—the same ritual unfolds. Headlines celebrate pass rates, news outlets compete to publish the names of top scorers, and families anxiously calculate university cut-off scores. For many households, the day brings a mixture of jubilation and heartbreak, relief and uncertainty. The scene feels so familiar that it seems almost timeless. Yet what has changed over the past 15 years is not the exam itself, but what it represents. While successive governments have repeatedly overhauled Egypts education system, one thing has remained elusive: students right to complete their education within a stable, predictable framework. The story of the Thanaweya Amma is no longer simply about grades or university admissions—it is about a generation forced to navigate an education system that has rarely stood still. To judge students solely by their final marks is to ignore the journey that brought them there. Before asking how many students passed this years Thanaweya Amma, a more important question deserves attention: What kind of education system did they spend their school years navigating? This is not an attempt to excuse weak results or to shift responsibility; rather, it is a necessary starting point for understanding those results. The students who received their certificates this year did not begin their education under a single curriculum and graduate under the same one. They did not go through their schooling within a stable model that remained consistent until graduation. Instead, they spent 12 years in a system characterised by near-constant transition. Curricula were repeatedly revised, assessment methods were redesigned, subjects were added to and removed from overall scores, examination formats were overhauled, and new educational philosophies were introduced before earlier reforms could be fully implemented. Each new administration promised a fresh start, often replacing rather than building upon what had come before. In this context, the Thanaweya Amma results represent more than just a measure of students academic performance. They reflect 15 years of education policymaking. While this may seem like a harsh viewpoint, it is ultimately fairer than reducing the debate to exam papers and pass rates. Education is not an event measured over a few weeks at the end of the academic year. It is a long-term process that begins when a child first enters the classroom and ends years later, when that student graduates. By that point, they should be equipped not only with academic knowledge but also with the ability to think critically, make informed decisions, and confidently navigate adult life. The annual debate following the release of the Thanaweya Amma results has also changed. Not long ago, the discussion revolved around a familiar question: Was the exam difficult or easy? Today, the uncertainty runs much deeper. Students and parents are no longer concerned only with the level of difficulty, but with the rules of the game itself. Will the exam format change again? Will a subject continue to count towards the final score? Will the assessment system be revised? Will new decisions be announced before the school year ends? Will what students are studying today still be what they are tested on tomorrow? The shift in these questions is telling. It suggests that the greatest source of anxiety is no longer the examination itself, but the uncertainty surrounding the education system. Certainty in education is not a luxury; it is a prerequisite for fairness. Students cannot be expected to perform at their best if they believe that the rules shaping their future might change at any moment. Likewise, teachers cannot be expected to continuously improve when they are forced to adapt to a new system every year, not because knowledge or teaching methods have evolved, but because the education system itself