Do not Teach Them to Comply

It’s really been fascinating to read the series of discussions surrounding the practice of a Certain London School and it’s forced me to think about my own position on several of the associated arguments – discipline, authority, trad/prog, etc.

I don’t instantly dismiss nor praise the place. I can’t really pass judgement as I haven’t visited and I don’t know what it’s really like there. Many have and many rave about how effective it is. I confess that I’m drawn to the idea of being able to focus on teaching in a quiet, orderly environment where I don’t have to waste any time on dealing with disruption and behaviour. Nevertheless, I feel that something isn’t quite right. I’m reminded of the town of Stepford. If it all seems to work so well, why am I a trifle uneasy?

What comes to mind is that there appears to be a sense of pride in the compliance of the pupils. The teachers’ authority is paramount and total. The problem is this: compliance and submission to authority are not attitudes we should be teaching. I can hear the counter arguments already. ‘How can we teach if the pupils don’t do what they’re asked to do?’ My answer is that the pupils should do what they’re asked to do, not because they’ve been trained in compliance, but because they’ve been trained in courtesy and good judgement. That may not be as straightforward as drilling to conform, but it’s a lot, lot safer.

One of the most important lessons I teach in the school year is the one that tells the pupils that they should not do what an adult tells them to do.* That’s the one in which they learn to recognise that adults do not have absolute authority over them and that they have a right to say ‘no’ if what they are being asked to do is wrong. Famously, the pupils of the school in question would pick up someone’s grape off the floor, without argument or complaint. Whilst the total authority of the teachers in this school appears to be underpinned by kindness and concern – a benevolent dictatorship, if you will – administrations and contexts change. Would they comply if it were something considerably less pleasant? If it were someone considerably less pleasant?

I recently responded to a question as to whether I would send my daughter to such a school. The answer was easy. Of everyone I know, my daughter is one of the people least likely to respond to Milgram’s disturbing but important experiment and I’m very proud of that. She’s also one of the first to help someone in need, or to intervene when she sees bullying or injustice. At school she was not compliant for the sake of it, but she was respectful if respect was warranted (invariably to teachers with good subject knowledge, as it happens). I admire her bravery and I wish I could be more like her. We should never forget why Milgram and others set up their investigation in the first place, in response to the events that had happened some 15 years previously. Of all the arguments that were put forward to justify actions during the war, the one of, ‘only following orders’ was considered to be the most lame. It was argued that we know the difference between right and wrong and that we should not do the wrong thing just because we are submitting to authority. Milgram demonstrated that it’s a great deal more easily said than done. If it’s seen as a good thing to train a population to be compliant, then we should ask ourselves the questions, ‘For whom and for what purpose?’ Who gains by this?

Which brings me to the second half of this musing. The pupils in this school do well by the measures we use. Apparently they’re all being trained to go to Oxford and Cambridge. Since I’m a fan of high expectations, why do I feel uneasy about this too? I was trying to think of an analogy for my discomfort with the current atmosphere of social mobility, high attainment, grammar schools, PISA results etc. Although it’s not perfect, I came up with the dieting comparison. If we take weight-loss as the measure (who would argue with that?) then the quickest route is to eat nothing at all. If we take a measure of attainment at a certain point, as one-off tests do, then we also are measuring who gets there by the quickest route and there are winners and losers. My concern is that, as in the dieting analogy,  it might not be the best route. As always, I’m trying to argue that what we measure in attainment is not necessarily the most indicative of a good education. It may be that attainment can be massively improved by doing the wrong things – narrowing the focus and reducing the curriculum, for example. This is why, although I’m very much a ‘traditionalist’ in many ways, I cannot completely embrace the philosophy. The evidence is that traditional teaching methods have more impact on attainment, but I don’t think the argument should therefore be that we do nothing else. There are reasons for doing things in schools, with pupils, that are not about their attainment in the things that we currently measure. For example, projects done by the pupils on areas of their own interest have apparently been shown to have no positive impact. But we don’t currently measure the things that project work is all about. Anecdotally, I would argue that all the projects I did before the age of 12, had a long term effect on how easy I found doing research later in books and online, but I couldn’t prove it!

Many of my discussions recently have been with the ‘losers‘ of the system we’re currently in, and one of my concerns is how partisan that particular school is. They win because others are not as good. I’m interested in education, per se – not just of my pupils, but of other pupils in other schools, not just of the most academically able, not just in this country but everywhere. We have a right, not only to be well-educated, but to have well-educated people around us – in positions of responsibility and leadership, for example! If that is the case, we can’t measure success by those we have fast-tracked to a ‘top’ university, as much as that might be a desirable outcome for some of us. There are other desirable outcomes. I often have to let people know that working for and sitting exams does not have to be done within the time-frame and context of school. It’s great to see the burgeoning of MOOCs and open access education and I imagine a future where technology gives us a truly global and responsive curriculum, accessible to nearly everyone, but even that would only be tiny fraction of the whole education domain. Not attaining a set of acceptable grades in some GCSEs at the end of year 10 becomes less of an issue. Attain it within a different time-frame… or attain something else.

It’s possible to look at many great achievers and see that they were most significantly not compliant or they’d never had done anything remarkable. Rather than teach us to submit to authority in order to avoid punishment and to achieve a reward, a better education teaches us to question authority and to develop an analytical approach towards notions of reward and punishment – but we’d only know that, if we hadn’t been taught to comply.

 

  • Edit for those who really found that bit too cryptic. The lesson in question is on ‘Protective Behaviours’, i.e. protecting oneself from being abused.

 

 

 

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Perverse incentives are real

I’ve just spent a few pleasurable hours looking at the science writing from my y6 class. I say pleasurable, because they’re very good writers this year (thanks Mr M in y5!), but also because there were elements of their writing that hinted at an education. Some children had picked up on, and correctly reinterpreted, the higher level information I had given in reply to their questions on the chemistry of the investigation. All of them had made links with ‘the real world’ following the discussions we’d had.

It all sounds good doesn’t it?

The sad truth is that in spite of the fact that I’m an advocate of education not attainment, the knowledge of what will and will not form part of the end of year measurement is still there, influencing my decisions and having a detrimental impact on my education of the children.

This is because while I am marking their work, I am making decisions about feedback and whether  to follow up misconceptions, or take understanding further. Let’s remember that this is science. Although I personally view its study as crucial, and its neglect  as the source of most of the world’s ills, it has nevertheless lost its status in the primary curriculum. So my thoughts are, ‘Why bother? This understanding will not form part of any final assessment and no measurement of this will be used to judge the effectiveness of my teaching, nor of the school’. Since this is true for science, still nominally a ‘core subject’, how much more so for the non-entities of art, music, DT, etc.? Is there any point in pursuing any of these subjects in primary school in an educational manner?

The argument, of course, is that we have an ethical responsibility as educators to educate. That teachers worth their salt should not be unduly swayed by the knowledge that a narrow set of criteria for a small population of pupils are used at the end of KS2 to judge our success or failure. It reminds me of the argument that senior leaders shouldn’t do things just for OFSTED. It’s an unreasonable argument. It’s like saying to the donkeys, ‘Here’s a carrot and a very big stick, but just act as you would if they weren’t there!’

I’m not in favour of scrapping tests and I’m no fan of teacher assessment, but it’s undeniable, that what I teach is influenced by the KS2 SATs and not all in a good way. The primary  curriculum is vast. The attainment tests are narrow. It also brings into question all research based on using attainment data as a measure of success. Of course it’s true that the things they measure are important – they may even indicate something – but there are a lot of things which aren’t measured which may indicate a whole lot of other things.

I can’t see how we can value a proper primary education – how we can allow the pursuit of further understanding – if we set such tight boundaries on how we measure it. Testing is fine – but if it doesn’t measure what we value then we’ll only value what it measures. I’m resistant to that fact, but I’m not immune. I’m sure I’m no different to every other primary teacher out there. Our assessment system has to change so that we can feel fine about educating our pupils and not think we’re wasting our time if we pursue an area that doesn’t count towards a final mark.

 

 

 

Trialling moderation

A quick one today to cover the ‘trialling moderation’ session this afternoon.

We had to bring all the documents and some samples of pupils’ writing, as expected.

Moderators introduced themselves. They seemed to be mainly Y6 teachers who also were subject leaders for English. Some had moderated before, but obviously not for the new standards.

The ‘feel’ from the introduction to the session was that it wasn’t as big a problem as we had all been making it out to be. We were definitely using the interim statements and that ‘meeting’ was indeed equivalent to a 4b.

At my table, we expressed our distrust of this idea and our fear that very few of our pupils would meet expected standards. Work from the first pupil was shared and the criteria ticked off. We looked at about 3 pieces of work. It came out as ‘meeting’ even though I felt it was comparable to the exemplar, ‘Alex’. The second pupil from the next school was ‘nearly exceeding’. I wasn’t convinced. There were lots of extended pieces in beautiful handwriting but sentence structures were rather unsophisticated. There was arguably a lack of variety in the range and position of clauses and transitional phrases. There was no evidence of writing for any other  curriculum area, such as science.

I put forward the work from a pupil I had previously thought  to be ‘meeting’ but had then begun to doubt. I wanted clarification. Formerly, I would have put this pupil at a 4a/5c with the need to improve consistency of punctuation. Our books were the only ones on our table (and others) that had evidence of writing across the curriculum; we moved a few years ago to putting all work in a ‘theme book’ (it has its pros and cons!).

Unfortunately the session was ultimately pretty frustrating as we didn’t get to agree on the attainment of my pupil; I was told that there needed to be evidence of the teaching process that had underpinned the writing that was evident in the books. That is to say, there should be the grammar exercises where we had taught such things as ‘fronted adverbials’ etc. and then the written pieces in which that learning was then evidenced. I challenged that and asked why we couldn’t just look at the writing as we had done for the first pupil. By then the session was pretty much over. In spite of the moderator’s attempt to finish the moderation for me, we didn’t. The last part of the session was given over to the session leader coming over and asking if we felt OK about everything, and my reply that no, I didn’t. I still didn’t know which of the multiplicity of messages to listen to and I hadn’t had my pupil’s work moderated. I had seen other pieces of work, but I didn’t trust the judgements that had been made.

The response was ‘what mixed messages?’ and the suggestion that it may take time for me to ‘get my head around it’ just like I must have had to do for the previous system. She seemed quite happy that the interim statements were broadly equivalent to a 4b and suggested that the government certainly wouldn’t want to see the data showing a drop in attainment. I suggested that if people were honest, that could be the only outcome.

My colleague didn’t fare much better. She deliberately brought samples from a pupil who fails to write much but when he does, it is accurate, stylish and mature. He had a range of pieces, but most of them were short. The moderator dismissed his work as insufficient evidence but did inform my colleague that she would expect to see the whole range of text types, including poetry because otherwise how would we show ‘figurative language and metaphor’?

I’m none the wiser but slightly more demoralised than before. One of my favourite writers from last year has almost given up writing altogether because he knows his dyslexia will prevent him from ‘meeting’. Judging the writing of pupils as effectively a pass or fail is heart-breaking. I know how much effort goes into their writing. I can see writers who have such a strong grasp of audience and style, missing the mark by just a few of the criteria. This is like being faced with a wall – if you cant get over it, stop bothering.

We are likely to be doing a lot of writing over the next few weeks.

 

Education, not ‘attainment’.

I clearly remember two separate, but similar introductions to the new year from teachers at my junior school, though the identity of the teachers has now faded from my memory. On both occasions, something was written in chalk, on the board and obviously with enough dramatic impact for me to recall for 40 years. One of these was the literal translation of the word ‘educere’ as ‘to lead/draw out’ and the other was the old catechism ‘wissen ist macht’ translated as ‘knowledge is power’ but conveyed to us as our knowledge would give us power (to think for ourselves, to make informed decisions, to resist negative pressure). I’m reminded of these when I am witness to educational debates and particularly those that focus on the purpose of education. Of course, like so many of us, I must be strongly influenced by my early experience, which in this case leads me to question some of the current assumptions about teaching and learning and to wonder what happened to the idea that education was about education as opposed to being about attainment.

What is wrong with attainment?

I think the issue is less with the notion that we can ‘strive to attain’, but rather with what it leaves out, or shoves aside, and the perverse incentives which it generates. I’m concerned, currently, that there has been a recent surge to embrace, in England, the ‘freedom’ afforded by the removal of levels alongside a new, unquestioning fandom for ‘mastery’ and the idea that all primary pupils in a certain year, learn a certain body of knowledge in order to be ‘meeting’ the requirements of that year. I would worry about the assumptions behind what that body of knowledge should be, whether it was appropriate for all pupils within a year, regardless of their age and experience, even without the high-stakes ranking tests at the end of KS2. But this should be a matter for concern. Attainment has moved from being a step along a continuum and has returned, very much to a comparison of a pupil’s worth against other pupils of the same year, within school and within the country. You can only attain highly, if you are well above the average score. Teachers can only be very successful, if they achieve the impossible and somehow push their students to the right of the bell-curve. This, like the drive to achieve ever higher levels in the old system, is high stakes indeed. Unfortunately, if we focus so highly on attainment, we increase the incentive to cheat – examples from education and sport abound. The focus on doing it well has been replaced by the focus on doing it better than everyone else. I’m suggesting that is a corruption of the purposes of education.

But I’m concerned not only with the focus, but also our failure to question the presumption of what ‘doing well’ means. I think it would be true to say that we don’t all agree on this. The polarisation of the debate about skills v knowledge is only one example of difference in views and of the pendulum swing of ideology in English (US?) education. This matters, because it affects what is valued and what is taught.

Primary science is a classic victim of ideological meddling having an impact on what goes on in schools. It goes briefly like this: science is seen as having too low a status. It is given ‘core’ status and tested at the end of KS2. The tests are seen to be inadequate in assessing ‘real science’ and are having a negative ‘backwash’ on the teaching of science. The tests are scrapped. Teaching is supposed to focus on science skills, but without the tests, science loses its comparative status. Subject knowledge resurfaces as crucial. Teachers are given dozens of knowledge-based objectives against which to assess pupils, but as of yet, no effective means to do this. (I would predict the return of some form of testing). International comparisons (PISA) historically place England above average, with little change from 2006, in terms of science (pdf), but the impact (or lack of) of scrapping the SATs in 2009 has yet to be measured.

But what of PISA, anyway?

I confess, I love data. I want to see trends, graphical representations of percentages, comparisons, etc. and I crave evidential bases for actions. However I’m not alone in questioning the validity and reliability of the use of data in the day to day business of education, especially in the form of international comparisons which have a major impact on what we do in English schools: ‘PISA says xxxx and therefore…’ My issues are this:

  • How do we measure attainment?

As yet, we are still dependent on conventional testing as the reliable method of measuring attainment. PISA write at length of the limitations of this, but ultimately have no alternative. Reliable, however does not mean valid, hence the arguments in favour of alternatives such as teacher assessment, which I argue strongly against as a means of reliable measurement.

  • What are we measuring, exactly?

Although I’m a massive fan of tests and exams for their impact on personal learning and as an opportunity to demonstrate knowledge, we have to accept that they are selective and limited in what they test. PISA represents a view of what should be tested, but what is left out, is necessarily vastly more than what is included. What exactly does a high score in PISA represent? It represents something but is it the thing that we most want out of our education system or is there something that we haven’t measured? We necessarily have to cherry pick our criteria but these relate to attainment in very specific curricula and not, we could argue, to the overall education of a population. Extrapolation is also a problem. If we look at high attaining countries, do we really know what it is that makes the difference and can we really just extract that and apply it to our own, even if we think this measure of attainment is valuable?

  • Who is it for?

This is an important question and a political one. PISA represents an OECD idea of what to measure for attainment. We might agree with much of this and we might recognise (as I do!) that national curricula map quite closely with each other. However, there is room for doubt, particularly when one’s own government can make a political decision, for example, to leave out any mention of climate change in its new curriculum! PISA was set up, apparently, with a view to improving education policies and outcomes, which seems laudable, but which outcomes and for whom? Are we talking about a future of a reasonably competent population, capable of contributing towards the ‘economic success’ of their country, or of a highly informed, analytical, thinking population that has the wherewithal to solve problems and question policies? Or, is there something else, too?

So what then?

I will continue to argue for something rather more idealistic than an attainment model of education. Although competition can be some kind of incentive, and I have used it myself in the class, education, in my view, is not about being better, higher up the tree, earning more than the other or, dare I say it, consuming faster and causing more destruction. Education is really big. It’s too big to consign to the ‘mastery’ of a handful of objectives and it’s not measured by the attainment of a high score in a set of tests at the end of a Key Stage. Really good teaching is useful but insufficient and, I have to say, not essential (had it been, I would never have passed ‘O’ level Chemistry). Any single source, such as one teacher, is not enough. Without learners taking responsibility, it doesn’t happen. Maybe ‘character’ is what that drives people to the top, but ‘the top’ can be a very destructive place and it’s not everybody’s idea of fulfilment. Education doesn’t require ‘character’ it requires a kind of craving, not for attainment but to know and to be able to do and to understand more than before. By all means, learners should be given opportunities to challenge themselves in chosen areas, marked by assessments of various types, but these shouldn’t be hurdles; they should be available when wanted.

Some views of attainment

Here are some models of pupils within the system in relation to attainment of objectives. The question is, who is doing better? Who is attaining higher? Who is likely to get a lot less teacher attention and why? (apologies for the blurriness – I’ll get back to that but wanted to get this posted while I have time)

p a

pb

pc

My curriculum that isn’t in the curriculum

I thought I’d just end with some examples (we could all come up with these and please feel free to add yours) of some of the ‘important’ things I’ve taught so far this term:

  • Talking politely gets a better result
  • The large spider is called Tegenaria and he is a male – look at his clubbed pedipalps
  • The environment won’t change to suit your needs
  • Using a back loop when you’re sewing means the thread stays in
  • Slugs have a right to live, too (and by the way are related to to the octopus)
  • You’ve just used an example of the ‘pathetic fallacy’, without knowing it
  • Excel needs numerical data
  • What you learn in class time is not enough
  • Poems work better if the strong rhyme comes in the second line