Showing posts with label teacher. Show all posts
Showing posts with label teacher. Show all posts
Tuesday, 29 August 2023
Saturday, 19 August 2023
Saturday, 25 March 2023
Ofsted Rating Grades and The Consequences For Teaching
Lucy Kellaway in The FT
Last Monday a primary school headteacher took to Twitter and declared that Ofsted inspectors, who were due the next day, would not be let in. She invited teachers everywhere to join a protest in solidarity with Ruth Perry, the primary head who recently took her own life — her family attribute it to an Ofsted inspection that downgraded her school from outstanding to inadequate.
Though the mass protest was called off and the inspectors duly admitted, the verdict online was damning and unanimous. End inspections! End Ofsted! — everything teachers are angry about seems to be crystallised in the tragic death.
That morning I was in the cinema at a local shopping centre with my A-level students for a spot of business studies revision. On the screen was a question. Which was the odd one out: a) salary b) working conditions c) supervision or d) meaningful work?
Most went for meaningful work, recognising that the others were “hygiene factors”, identified by the American psychologist Frederick Herzberg as basic requirements which, if inadequate, demotivate us and make us want to quit. Meaningful work, by contrast, is a motivator — it makes us try harder.
So here we were: my colleague and I surrounded by teenagers in leggings and hoodies on a happy, productive day out, living proof of that motivator. Like every teacher I’ve ever met, we enjoy being with our charges (most of them, most of the time). We think helping them learn is as meaningful as a job can be.
Yet the profession is in a sorry state. According to new figures from the NFER research body, recruitment is at least 20 per cent below target in many subjects, with vacancies running at twice pre-Covid levels. Worse, almost half of existing teachers are planning an exit within five years.
The hygiene factors are all worsening simultaneously. Cuts in real pay and impossible workloads have brought teachers out on strike. Budget cuts in other services have left vulnerable children all but unsupported, turning us into de facto social workers. This inspection crisis seems like the last straw.
On joining the profession I was taught to fear Ofsted. In previous schools I filled in endless curriculum spreadsheets in precisely the way the inspectorate is believed to favour — no opposition brooked — and watched supervisors trudge home every weekend to complete “Ofsted-ready” folders. I’ve lived through “mocksteds” — expensive, stressful and even more vicious than the real thing — designed to reassure stressed-out school leaders that they are prepared.
In my current school, that call came not so long ago: Ofsted inspectors were on their way. At lunchtime one of my sixth-formers asked why her teachers were acting so oddly. Because we feel our jobs are on the line, I wanted to say. Because if we get the same treatment as Ms Perry, it will be a disaster for the school. Because we feel judged, on the back foot and exhausted — but are trying our best.
I daresay I was acting pretty peculiar as the inspector stationed himself at the back of my class and started taking notes in an unnervingly deadpan fashion. In the end, it was without mishap. The process felt professional, the questions reasonable and the feedback fair. With hindsight, it strikes me the fear and loathing stems less from the inspection itself, than from the nonsense of summarising a complex school in a single grade — with so much at stake.
Creating intense competition between schools may (or may not) have raised standards for students. But in many schools it has made life grim for teachers, especially senior ones. Schools bust a gut to have the best Ofsted grades and top the league tables, but those that make it can be unbearable places to work: hierarchical, workaholic factories.
In these feted schools, where students get dazzling exam results, the teachers who quit are often not the worst, but the best. The more they are promoted, the more they are in the line of fire. A brilliant young teacher I trained with said recently that she envied me — not because of my inimitable teaching style, but because of my steadfast position on the bottom rung of the career ladder. I’m too junior to be much affected by Ofsted or bear responsibility for things outside my control. I am not entirely dependent on my teaching salary so can afford to resist the pay rise that comes with promotion. I’m largely immune from the hygiene factors — and left free to enjoy teaching average rate of return to my Year 11s.
Changing hygiene factors is hard. The government is not fond of finding extra money. Reducing workload isn’t easy either. But sweeping away the Ofsted grades would allow teachers to remind themselves why they joined the profession: for the sake of their wonderful (and maddening) students, not a badge that says “outstanding”.
Wednesday, 28 July 2021
Monday, 4 March 2019
What teaching does to your social status
When she quit the FT to become a teacher, Lucy Kellaway thought society would view her differently
When I quit the Financial Times in 2017 to become a trainee teacher, I knew that my future life would contain less of two things. The first was money — which was a bit frightening even though I had slightly softened the impact by stockpiling whatever cash I could lay my hands on.
When I quit the Financial Times in 2017 to become a trainee teacher, I knew that my future life would contain less of two things. The first was money — which was a bit frightening even though I had slightly softened the impact by stockpiling whatever cash I could lay my hands on.
The second loss was harder to prepare for. My old job came with an unreasonably high level of status. Over three decades I had become used to being eyed by people at dinner parties with slightly more interest once they discovered I was a columnist at the FT. By contrast, the status of teachers is unreasonably low. In most of the world, they are seen as only a little ahead of police officers and far behind doctors and engineers. Only in a few countries, including China and Indonesia, does society value the people who fill children’s minds as highly as those who fix their bodies. Everywhere else, the sneery old saying still gets wheeled out: those who can, do; those who can’t, teach.
At one of the first recruitment evenings of Now Teach, the charity I co-founded in 2016 to persuade ageing professionals to retrain as teachers, a 40-something banker stood up and said what was putting him off becoming a teacher was losing stature in the eyes of his colleagues. At the time I shrugged and told him to stop minding. I’d gone post-status and I advised him to do the same.
Yet the week I started teaching something odd happened. I was cycling along a London street feeling incompetent and out of control in my new job when I was flagged down by a stranger. What you are doing is so important, he said. Congratulations.
I told him it was too early for that. Congratulations would only be in order when I’d learnt how to be a good teacher and stuck at it for five years.
From the start, undeserved congratulations continued to roll in, and people seemed both interested and admiring of what I was up to. If status is what the Cambridge dictionary says it is — “the amount of respect, admiration or importance given to a person” — it was beginning to look like my status as a feeble novice teacher was higher than it was as a competent experienced columnist.
One of my fellow trainees reported something similar. Anne Marie Lawlor, a former top civil servant turned language teacher, noticed early on that people she met socially seemed far more interested in hearing about her new job than they ever were about her old one.
Given that the low status of teachers is one of the reasons they are in such dangerously short supply, this glimpse of high status struck me as worth investigating. I set about polling all the Now Teach trainees — the 45 who trained with me in 2017 and the 75 who started last September — to see if they had experienced it too.
First I asked them if people they met socially found them more interesting. Some replied that they were too weary as trainee teachers to do any socialising. But almost two-thirds reported that people were keener on talking to them than they used to be. This may not be that surprising, as almost everyone is interested in education, and absolutely everyone enjoys a story from the front line. A misbehaving child makes a better anecdote than minutes of a board meeting.
Only one trainee — who used to be a political journalist — said her social worth had dropped as her former friends and colleagues were only interested in the latest Westminster gossip and she no longer had any to offer.
I then asked the group what becoming a teacher had done to their status in the eyes of others. Most used to do jobs that society values (and pays) highly — they were investment bankers, corporate lawyers, consultants, civil servants, film makers and doctors — and most were towards the top of their respective trees. Now all are at the bottom of a less prestigious tree.
Despite all this, only 6 per cent said their status had fallen and about 65 per cent thought it had gone up since becoming teachers.
It would be nice to conclude that the status of teaching is not so grievously low after all, but I suspect the true explanation is otherwise. Becoming a teacher in your 50s, especially when you’ve had a certain amount of success doing something else, seems to be quite different from becoming one in your 20s.
Jonathan Shaw, a former marketing executive, says the reason is all about Maslow’s hierarchy of needs — at the top of which sits some sort of self-actualisation.
“I think lots of us as we get older start to question whether our lives have been well spent,” he says. “Teaching brings a different status and one that’s more relevant to a 50-year-old me than a 25-year-old me.”
Lara Agnew, a former documentary maker who now teaches English, thinks age had changed her idea of what status means.
“I think when we are young we imagine status comes from the outside. The approval, the promotion, the competition — all account for a ‘rise’, as it were, as viewed from the outside.
“Now I am ancient, I realise that my ideas about status come much more from the inside. My own ideas about my contribution, my worth, are what count as status.”
So if the point about status is that we generate it ourselves as we get older, how do the Now Teachers feel about themselves? Has their self-worth gone up as a result of becoming a teacher? In my survey, 62 per cent claimed that it had.
This is remarkable given how difficult and exhausting teaching is, particularly in the first year. One of the 13 per cent who reported a drop in self-worth explained: “It is hard to feel good about yourself when you feel quite so overwhelmed and have no idea what you’re doing.”
But the others insisted they felt better about themselves by virtue of feeling useful. One described the delight he felt when a Year 8 class revealed he was preferred to their previous teacher. “No title or promotion in my old job has ever made me feel this useful and successful,” he said.
Teaching has been good for my own self-worth, though for a different reason. For the first time in my professional life, I don’t think about myself at all. Journalism was partly about me, while teaching is about the children. Even on days when I have given muddled lessons and have not noticeably changed the life of a single child I still go home feeling less out of sorts than after a bad day in the office.
There is a slight irony about this unlooked-for rise in status. I suspect that most of us stopped worrying about our professional status some time ago. I wish I had thought to add a final question to put to the group: how much does status still matter to you? My guess is that most would have answered: not much.
Friday, 14 April 2017
BME teachers often given stereotypical roles in schools
Richard Adams in The Guardian
Zubaida Haque, a research associate at the Runnymede Trust, said: “Our survey found that BME teachers were not only overwhelmed with the mountain of paperwork but they are also beaten down by the everyday ‘microaggressions’ in the staff room and the low expectations and support by senior staff in their schools.
“This has led to BME teachers feeling undervalued, isolated and disillusioned with their careers. If BME and white pupils see BME teachers being treated unequally, this sends out unacceptable signals to the next generation. For this reason, both schools and the government must do everything in their power to tackle the barriers faced by BME teachers in schools.”
The survey was conducted for the National Union of Teachers annual conference, which starts on Friday in Cardiff.
The survey’s authors concluded that “institutional racism – often manifested in subtle and covert ‘microaggressions’ by senior staff – still plays a key part in the barriers to career progression for black teachers in many British primary and secondary schools”.
While Asian teachers reported “casual stereotypes” and Islamophobia from both staff and students, the authors said “it does suggest that the experience of racism is particularly insidious and persistent for black teachers in this study”.
In interviews conducted alongside the survey, teachers said that racist comments and attitudes from students were often not dealt with, although others reported a zero tolerance to racism from senior leadership.
Many of the teachers questioned were positive about their treatment, although those working at schools with few other black or minority ethnic staff reported the highest levels of dissatisfaction.
Several teachers said that the government’s Prevent strategy, aimed at tackling extremism in schools, placed an additional burden on Asian and Muslim teachers.
One black British secondary school teacher told the researchers: “Students feel they can be blatantly racist, and there are no consequences for them. These extremist views are not covered in the Prevent agenda because they are not seen as extremism.”
Some 60% of those surveyed reported that they were considering leaving the profession altogether, while more than half said their school was not a welcoming environment for BME children.
Kevin Courtney, the NUT’s general secretary, said: “This report shows us the cost of the gap between the proportion of BME teachers and BME pupils, which is getting wider because diversity in teaching is not keeping pace with pupil demographics. Alongside a proper strategy to recruit and retain enough teachers, the government needs a credible strategy for attracting sufficient BME teachers.”
BME teachers say they face ‘microaggression’ in the staff room and low expectations from seniors. Photograph: Alamy
Black and Asian teachers in the UK say they are often saddled with stereotypical roles in schools and want more support from senior staff in handling incidents of racism, according to a survey.
The Runnymede Trust’s poll of more than 1,000 black and minority ethnic teachers found that they were most likely to be told to organise school events such as Black History Month, or tasked with behaviour responsibilities rather than being given more challenging teaching or leadership roles.
The survey’s authors said that black teachers in particular feared being labelled troublemakers or being viewed as “aggressive” if they challenged any decisions.
Black and Asian teachers in the UK say they are often saddled with stereotypical roles in schools and want more support from senior staff in handling incidents of racism, according to a survey.
The Runnymede Trust’s poll of more than 1,000 black and minority ethnic teachers found that they were most likely to be told to organise school events such as Black History Month, or tasked with behaviour responsibilities rather than being given more challenging teaching or leadership roles.
The survey’s authors said that black teachers in particular feared being labelled troublemakers or being viewed as “aggressive” if they challenged any decisions.
Zubaida Haque, a research associate at the Runnymede Trust, said: “Our survey found that BME teachers were not only overwhelmed with the mountain of paperwork but they are also beaten down by the everyday ‘microaggressions’ in the staff room and the low expectations and support by senior staff in their schools.
“This has led to BME teachers feeling undervalued, isolated and disillusioned with their careers. If BME and white pupils see BME teachers being treated unequally, this sends out unacceptable signals to the next generation. For this reason, both schools and the government must do everything in their power to tackle the barriers faced by BME teachers in schools.”
The survey was conducted for the National Union of Teachers annual conference, which starts on Friday in Cardiff.
The survey’s authors concluded that “institutional racism – often manifested in subtle and covert ‘microaggressions’ by senior staff – still plays a key part in the barriers to career progression for black teachers in many British primary and secondary schools”.
While Asian teachers reported “casual stereotypes” and Islamophobia from both staff and students, the authors said “it does suggest that the experience of racism is particularly insidious and persistent for black teachers in this study”.
In interviews conducted alongside the survey, teachers said that racist comments and attitudes from students were often not dealt with, although others reported a zero tolerance to racism from senior leadership.
Many of the teachers questioned were positive about their treatment, although those working at schools with few other black or minority ethnic staff reported the highest levels of dissatisfaction.
Several teachers said that the government’s Prevent strategy, aimed at tackling extremism in schools, placed an additional burden on Asian and Muslim teachers.
One black British secondary school teacher told the researchers: “Students feel they can be blatantly racist, and there are no consequences for them. These extremist views are not covered in the Prevent agenda because they are not seen as extremism.”
Some 60% of those surveyed reported that they were considering leaving the profession altogether, while more than half said their school was not a welcoming environment for BME children.
Kevin Courtney, the NUT’s general secretary, said: “This report shows us the cost of the gap between the proportion of BME teachers and BME pupils, which is getting wider because diversity in teaching is not keeping pace with pupil demographics. Alongside a proper strategy to recruit and retain enough teachers, the government needs a credible strategy for attracting sufficient BME teachers.”
Wednesday, 14 December 2016
Can technology replace teachers? You asked Google – here’s the answer
Harpreet Purewal in The Guardian
Anxiety about losing your job to technology is both a rational and growing fear. Andy Haldane, the chief economist at the Bank of England, recently estimated that 15m jobs in the UK were threatened by automation. Technology is reaching such levels of sophistication that it is capable not only of manual tasks but cognitive ones too, putting a wide range of jobs are at risk. The areas most vulnerable include driving and administrative work. But according to a report from Oxford University that looked at over 700 areas of work, teaching at all levels across the educational spectrum is a safe bet.
Yet the apparent safety of teaching as a profession doesn’t quite square with the boom in online courses. From the comfort of my sofa I can watch lectures from prestigious universities around the world, join the hundreds of millions of people who have enrolled on a Khan Academy course, enrol in a Mooc – a massive online open course – or upskill and change my career with a course from Lynda and many other education providers.
A lot of these courses are free, but those with accreditation attached tend to charge. The appeal for educational institutions is simple: you can pay a teacher once to deliver a lecture to an unlimited amount of students without having to pay for all the overheads it takes to run a building. Students are offered flexibility and can learn at a time and location that suits them. However, drop-out rates for these courses are extremely high and they present no real threat to education as we know it. It seems students still prefer a real classroom.
FacebookTwitterPinterest ‘The act of teaching isn’t just imparting what’s in your head to a captive audience.’ Photograph: Alamy Stock Photo
So why not replace teachers in classroom with technology? To understand why teachers’ careers are safe we need to ask two questions: what do teachers do all day and where does technology fall short?
A quick survey of teacher friends answers the first question: teachers provide pastoral care, direct the Christmas play, recognise and assist vulnerable pupils, cover break-time duty, mentor new teachers, collate data about pupils’ attendance and behaviour, mark homework, rig lights and dress sets for school performances, order resources such as textbooks and classroom equipment, write newsletters, take school trips, assess pupil attainment, meet parents, spot potential terrorists (ahem) in accordance with the government’s Prevent guidelines, lead assemblies, make endless photocopies, and appraise other members of staff. This list is incomplete and already sounds like a lot for a piece of technology to cover. But if you’re looking for an easy and long-term job, this isn’t it: almost a third of teachers quit within five years.
It’s likely that some of the administrative tasks that teachers do will be conducted by technology in the future, just as in other sectors, but what about the actual teaching? The act of teaching isn’t just imparting what’s in your head to a captive audience. Teaching is a performance, it’s reading the room and working it. This is where technology really falls short. Empathy is a key area of difficulty for technology and automation. Are the kids at the back of the classroom bored because you’re talking about something they find too difficult, because they know it already, or because you’re not presenting the information in a meaningful way? Human beings are able to pick up on a multitude of contextual clues to determine and respond to the emotional states of others. Technology can’t detect emotional states, let alone adapt its behaviour to cater accordingly.
‘The best teachers will use technology in the classroom as part of an expanding toolkit.’ Photograph: Paul Miller/AAP
Another area of difficulty for technology that is key to teaching is quick thinking. Any number of things can and do go wrong on a school day: a guest speaker cancels, the whiteboard freezes, buses are delayed or – the ultimate horror – the photocopier breaks. Human beings are able to think on their feet and reformulate their plans to adapt to new circumstances. Machines aren’t able to do this. Thinking on the spot is a key skill of teachers, and many cite the variety of the job as a reason for entering the profession in the first place.
We know what technology can’t do for students and teachers, but there are some reasons to be optimistic about the role of technology in education. Teachers in the UK often complain about the administration workload interfering with the actual work of teaching. Technology could aid data-gathering significantly, freeing up teachers’ time and allowing them to focus on more important aspects of their work. And internationally, technology has the potential to reach those who don’t have access to a classroom. In 2015 the British Council used Skype to deliver teacher training in Libya; and as far back as 1999 Sugata Mitra created “Hole in the Wall” schools by placing computers in slums in Delhi.
The best teachers will use technology in the classroom as part of an expanding toolkit, and hopefully they’ll see the benefits of smarter technology in the form of reduced clerical work. Classrooms will continue to change shape, but it’s safe to assume that there will be a human teacher at the front of them for a long time yet.
Anxiety about losing your job to technology is both a rational and growing fear. Andy Haldane, the chief economist at the Bank of England, recently estimated that 15m jobs in the UK were threatened by automation. Technology is reaching such levels of sophistication that it is capable not only of manual tasks but cognitive ones too, putting a wide range of jobs are at risk. The areas most vulnerable include driving and administrative work. But according to a report from Oxford University that looked at over 700 areas of work, teaching at all levels across the educational spectrum is a safe bet.
Yet the apparent safety of teaching as a profession doesn’t quite square with the boom in online courses. From the comfort of my sofa I can watch lectures from prestigious universities around the world, join the hundreds of millions of people who have enrolled on a Khan Academy course, enrol in a Mooc – a massive online open course – or upskill and change my career with a course from Lynda and many other education providers.
A lot of these courses are free, but those with accreditation attached tend to charge. The appeal for educational institutions is simple: you can pay a teacher once to deliver a lecture to an unlimited amount of students without having to pay for all the overheads it takes to run a building. Students are offered flexibility and can learn at a time and location that suits them. However, drop-out rates for these courses are extremely high and they present no real threat to education as we know it. It seems students still prefer a real classroom.
FacebookTwitterPinterest ‘The act of teaching isn’t just imparting what’s in your head to a captive audience.’ Photograph: Alamy Stock Photo
So why not replace teachers in classroom with technology? To understand why teachers’ careers are safe we need to ask two questions: what do teachers do all day and where does technology fall short?
A quick survey of teacher friends answers the first question: teachers provide pastoral care, direct the Christmas play, recognise and assist vulnerable pupils, cover break-time duty, mentor new teachers, collate data about pupils’ attendance and behaviour, mark homework, rig lights and dress sets for school performances, order resources such as textbooks and classroom equipment, write newsletters, take school trips, assess pupil attainment, meet parents, spot potential terrorists (ahem) in accordance with the government’s Prevent guidelines, lead assemblies, make endless photocopies, and appraise other members of staff. This list is incomplete and already sounds like a lot for a piece of technology to cover. But if you’re looking for an easy and long-term job, this isn’t it: almost a third of teachers quit within five years.
It’s likely that some of the administrative tasks that teachers do will be conducted by technology in the future, just as in other sectors, but what about the actual teaching? The act of teaching isn’t just imparting what’s in your head to a captive audience. Teaching is a performance, it’s reading the room and working it. This is where technology really falls short. Empathy is a key area of difficulty for technology and automation. Are the kids at the back of the classroom bored because you’re talking about something they find too difficult, because they know it already, or because you’re not presenting the information in a meaningful way? Human beings are able to pick up on a multitude of contextual clues to determine and respond to the emotional states of others. Technology can’t detect emotional states, let alone adapt its behaviour to cater accordingly.
‘The best teachers will use technology in the classroom as part of an expanding toolkit.’ Photograph: Paul Miller/AAP
Another area of difficulty for technology that is key to teaching is quick thinking. Any number of things can and do go wrong on a school day: a guest speaker cancels, the whiteboard freezes, buses are delayed or – the ultimate horror – the photocopier breaks. Human beings are able to think on their feet and reformulate their plans to adapt to new circumstances. Machines aren’t able to do this. Thinking on the spot is a key skill of teachers, and many cite the variety of the job as a reason for entering the profession in the first place.
We know what technology can’t do for students and teachers, but there are some reasons to be optimistic about the role of technology in education. Teachers in the UK often complain about the administration workload interfering with the actual work of teaching. Technology could aid data-gathering significantly, freeing up teachers’ time and allowing them to focus on more important aspects of their work. And internationally, technology has the potential to reach those who don’t have access to a classroom. In 2015 the British Council used Skype to deliver teacher training in Libya; and as far back as 1999 Sugata Mitra created “Hole in the Wall” schools by placing computers in slums in Delhi.
The best teachers will use technology in the classroom as part of an expanding toolkit, and hopefully they’ll see the benefits of smarter technology in the form of reduced clerical work. Classrooms will continue to change shape, but it’s safe to assume that there will be a human teacher at the front of them for a long time yet.
Saturday, 20 February 2016
I see Ofsted for what it is – a purposeless farce
I love my job and don’t want to waste energy resenting aspects of it, so my new approach to inspections is: don’t panic and never ask for feedback
‘I had a fairly normal couple of days before the inspectors arrived: I planned my lessons and went home at a normal time because I was meeting my mate Rob for a run.’ Photograph: Peter Morrison/AP
The Secret Teacher
I have a certain sympathy with the concept of accountability: we all want to know if our local school is any good and that our taxpayer contributions are spent effectively. But the way this straightforward desire has manifested itself in Ofsted– and the way some managers in schools have chosen (and it is a choice) to implement the inspectorate’s criteria – has turned the entire process into a pointless, stressful, tick-box exercise.
I’ve been teaching in secondary schools for 16 years and have just been through my fifth Ofsted inspection. I never used to think much about inspections, but now they’re seen as a life-altering, career-defining Armageddon. It’s hard to identify a tipping point that led us to the current state of affairs, where colleagues try to redefine teaching and work idiotic hours to invent lessons that achieve the impossible. I saw one teacher sob uncontrollably in the staffroom because he’d been up until 4 am preparing a lesson which wasn’t inspected. A colleague and I tried to console him, but finding words of support did not come easily. I found myself angry and frustrated that educated adults and experienced professionals were being reduced to tears.
Driving home that day, I was determined this wouldn’t be me. I’ve no problem with being held accountable for my students’ achievements, but if I wanted to keep doing the job I love, I needed to find a new way of dealing with it.
So now I treat Ofsted inspections as a purposeless farce and never ask for feedback on my lessons. I care about my students’ outcomes great deal, but making judgments about a lesson based on a spurious grid of phrases that defy consistent interpretation has become so lamentably futile there is nothing left to do other than laugh.
At my last school, I had a lesson inspection conducted by two assistant headteachers during a mocksted. The lesson was graded as “good” so I asked them what I could do to make it “outstanding”. They looked blank and eventually suggested I should have spent a bit longer during a discussion section of the lesson. I pointed out that this would have reduced the time for plenary reflection – the latest targeted initiative – and they agreed. I never did get a clear answer on whether it was even possible to make the lesson “outstanding”.
Fast forward a week and the headteacher dropped in on me unannounced. By pure chance I was teaching the same lesson (with some minor tweaks) to a parallel year group of almost identical ability range. The head deemed my lesson “inadequate”. I pointed out that her two assistant heads, one of whom is in charge of teaching and learning, thought the same lesson was “good” – her reponse was to dispute whether the lesson was the same.
I could feel a sense of overwhelming frustration building up. I pointed out at some length that my GCSE and A-level results had been above the school average and that student uptake and retention had grown since my appointment, and then asked to be observed again to prove I know what I’m doing. She never came.
My current school was inspected by Ofsted late last year. As the meeting was called to tell us of the impending visit, I immediately reflected on how my previous experiences could help me. I decided that while I can’t choose when or if I will be inspected – nor what the outcome will be – I can choose how I respond to it.
As expected, senior management went into overdrive with last-minute initiatives and tick-box exercises. But I had a fairly normal couple of days: I planned my lessons normally and went home at a normal time because I was meeting my mate Rob for a run. I told my department what I was doing and that we’d all be best prepared for the next few days with a decent night’s sleep. I said that under no circumstances should they change their evening plans: I trusted their judgement about how best to plan their lessons, and that we would deal with the outcomes – good or bad – afterwards. I’ve no idea what senior management thought, but I assured my department we weren’t going to be sacked for leaving before 9pm. Sure enough, the next day an inspector wandered in to see my year 11s. The lesson passed without hitch, and he invited me to see him at the end of the day for feedback.
I didn’t go. What’s the point? He wasn’t a specialist in my subject and he was only going to tell me his interpretation of a grid of lesson descriptors that has changed virtually every year for the last decade. As far as I know, no-one has been fired or had their pay reduced directly as a result of one Ofsted lesson inspection alone. Some colleagues thought I was mad or disrespectful, but if the inspector had a problem with my teaching and results, he could have found me and said what was wrong and why. Any good teacher knows that students’ progress is neither linear nor predictable, or consistent across subjects and time. Any good teacher also knows that building skills of resilience, humility, determination, awareness, ambition and curiosity cannot be measured by a grid.
I’m not a maverick. Maybe other teachers are worried about the consequences of taking a different approach because some school managers continually “motivate” staff by waving a big Ofsted stick.
But it’s my choice. I’m going to care less about Ofsted and put my energy into my students. I love my job and I don’t want to waste energy resenting certain aspects of what it has become. I know at times this will be easier said than done, but to continue doing what I do best, I need to make sure I keep what is lacking in the current climate – perspective.
The Secret Teacher
I have a certain sympathy with the concept of accountability: we all want to know if our local school is any good and that our taxpayer contributions are spent effectively. But the way this straightforward desire has manifested itself in Ofsted– and the way some managers in schools have chosen (and it is a choice) to implement the inspectorate’s criteria – has turned the entire process into a pointless, stressful, tick-box exercise.
I’ve been teaching in secondary schools for 16 years and have just been through my fifth Ofsted inspection. I never used to think much about inspections, but now they’re seen as a life-altering, career-defining Armageddon. It’s hard to identify a tipping point that led us to the current state of affairs, where colleagues try to redefine teaching and work idiotic hours to invent lessons that achieve the impossible. I saw one teacher sob uncontrollably in the staffroom because he’d been up until 4 am preparing a lesson which wasn’t inspected. A colleague and I tried to console him, but finding words of support did not come easily. I found myself angry and frustrated that educated adults and experienced professionals were being reduced to tears.
Driving home that day, I was determined this wouldn’t be me. I’ve no problem with being held accountable for my students’ achievements, but if I wanted to keep doing the job I love, I needed to find a new way of dealing with it.
So now I treat Ofsted inspections as a purposeless farce and never ask for feedback on my lessons. I care about my students’ outcomes great deal, but making judgments about a lesson based on a spurious grid of phrases that defy consistent interpretation has become so lamentably futile there is nothing left to do other than laugh.
At my last school, I had a lesson inspection conducted by two assistant headteachers during a mocksted. The lesson was graded as “good” so I asked them what I could do to make it “outstanding”. They looked blank and eventually suggested I should have spent a bit longer during a discussion section of the lesson. I pointed out that this would have reduced the time for plenary reflection – the latest targeted initiative – and they agreed. I never did get a clear answer on whether it was even possible to make the lesson “outstanding”.
Fast forward a week and the headteacher dropped in on me unannounced. By pure chance I was teaching the same lesson (with some minor tweaks) to a parallel year group of almost identical ability range. The head deemed my lesson “inadequate”. I pointed out that her two assistant heads, one of whom is in charge of teaching and learning, thought the same lesson was “good” – her reponse was to dispute whether the lesson was the same.
I could feel a sense of overwhelming frustration building up. I pointed out at some length that my GCSE and A-level results had been above the school average and that student uptake and retention had grown since my appointment, and then asked to be observed again to prove I know what I’m doing. She never came.
My current school was inspected by Ofsted late last year. As the meeting was called to tell us of the impending visit, I immediately reflected on how my previous experiences could help me. I decided that while I can’t choose when or if I will be inspected – nor what the outcome will be – I can choose how I respond to it.
As expected, senior management went into overdrive with last-minute initiatives and tick-box exercises. But I had a fairly normal couple of days: I planned my lessons normally and went home at a normal time because I was meeting my mate Rob for a run. I told my department what I was doing and that we’d all be best prepared for the next few days with a decent night’s sleep. I said that under no circumstances should they change their evening plans: I trusted their judgement about how best to plan their lessons, and that we would deal with the outcomes – good or bad – afterwards. I’ve no idea what senior management thought, but I assured my department we weren’t going to be sacked for leaving before 9pm. Sure enough, the next day an inspector wandered in to see my year 11s. The lesson passed without hitch, and he invited me to see him at the end of the day for feedback.
I didn’t go. What’s the point? He wasn’t a specialist in my subject and he was only going to tell me his interpretation of a grid of lesson descriptors that has changed virtually every year for the last decade. As far as I know, no-one has been fired or had their pay reduced directly as a result of one Ofsted lesson inspection alone. Some colleagues thought I was mad or disrespectful, but if the inspector had a problem with my teaching and results, he could have found me and said what was wrong and why. Any good teacher knows that students’ progress is neither linear nor predictable, or consistent across subjects and time. Any good teacher also knows that building skills of resilience, humility, determination, awareness, ambition and curiosity cannot be measured by a grid.
I’m not a maverick. Maybe other teachers are worried about the consequences of taking a different approach because some school managers continually “motivate” staff by waving a big Ofsted stick.
But it’s my choice. I’m going to care less about Ofsted and put my energy into my students. I love my job and I don’t want to waste energy resenting certain aspects of what it has become. I know at times this will be easier said than done, but to continue doing what I do best, I need to make sure I keep what is lacking in the current climate – perspective.
Thursday, 4 February 2016
Teachers increasingly boosting predicted A-level grades to help pupils win top university places
Richard Garner in The Independent
Increasing numbers of teachers are boosting their pupils’ predicted A-level grades to help them secure offers of places at Britain’s top universities – which in turn are accepting more students who miss their targets, largely to increase their income.
Figures from Ucas, the university admissions body, show that 63 per cent of all candidates are now predicted to get at least an A and two B grades at A level – up 9 percentage points from four years ago.
Yet the data shows that only a fifth of those predicted to score ABB actually achieve those grades – a 40 per cent drop from just six years ago.
READ MORE
Students increasingly admitted to university without three A-levels
The ploy by teachers has been successful because growing numbers of universities are offering “discounts” on their conditional offers to prospective students when A-level results are released.
This is because the Government decision to lift the cap on the number of places universities can offer has increased competition among the institutions when it comes to signing up students.
However, many teachers still reckon they need to bump up their students’ potential A-level grades to ensure they are noticed and are given a provisional offer by universities. More than half of pupils accepted on predicted A-level results – 52 per cent – missed their conditional offer grades by one grade or two, another substantial rise on four years ago. Senior academics say controversy over the issue could reignite calls to move to a system whereby pupils apply for their university places after they receive their A-level results.
Many teachers believe they need to bump up their students’ potential A-level grades to ensure they receive offers by universities (iStock)
The new figures and the trend they highlight were disclosed by Mary Curnock Cook, chief executive of Ucas, at a conference at Wellington College on the future of higher education.
University admissions in numbers
63% of all candidates predicted to get at least an A and two B grades at A-levels
One in five actually achieve those grades
495,940 university applicants in England
52% of candidates accepted on predicted grades miss them by one grade or two
44% of students being admitted with three B grade passes or lower, compared with 20 per cent in 2011
Ms Curnock Cook said that, in discussions with teachers, she had asked: “Surely you wouldn’t be over-predicting your students’ grades last summer?” She told the conference: “I have teachers coming back to me saying: ‘Actually, yes we would.’
“The offers are being discounted at confirmation time,” said Ms Curnock Cook, referring to A-level results day. “It’s been [caused by] the lifting of the number controls that has increased competition [amongst universities].”
“You have to hope you can unlock some latent talent [in those taken in with lower grades],” said one university source. “If you don’t take them in, they could be snapped up by a rival and their reputation increases.”
As well as lower-ranking institutions, high-tariff universities – those most selective in their intake – are also lowering their entry requirements, with 44 per cent of students being admitted with three B-grade passes or lower, compared with just 20 per cent in 2011.
Professor Michael Arthur, provost of University College London, said his university had dropped a grade in 9 per cent of admissions.
Many universities have seen huge rises in the numbers of students they are enrolling. Professor Arthur said the number of students at his university had soared from 24,000 six years ago to 37,500. Part of the increase was down to mergers with other bodies such as the Institute of Education – but at least half was due to a rise in student numbers.
The UCAS clearing house call centre in Cheltenham (Getty Images)
Another teacher said that performance-related pay, which means teachers’ salary increases depend on the results of their pupils – was leading them to predict higher grades.
“Performance-related pay and performance-related management play a part,” they said. “It is why you have to be a little bit aspirational.”
However, it was acknowledged this could be a double-edged sword – as failure to achieve the grades could result in teachers being penalised for failing to meet their targets.
Ms Curnock Cook also predicted that the number of students taking the A-level route to university would continue to drop over the next four years,
Last week Ucas showed that the number of students taking the vocational route through Btecs had almost doubled from 14 per cent in 2008 to 26 per cent last year. Predicted outcomes showed the number taking the traditional A-level route was likely to decline by 25,000 by 2020 – while the number with vocational qualifications would go up by 15,000.
A Department for Education spokesperson said: "We trust teachers to act in the best interests of their students by giving fair predicted A level grades that accurately reflect their ability.
"Distorting grades would be unfair on the pupils involved and could result in universities having to artificially inflate their entrance requirements, rendering it pointless in the long run."
Increasing numbers of teachers are boosting their pupils’ predicted A-level grades to help them secure offers of places at Britain’s top universities – which in turn are accepting more students who miss their targets, largely to increase their income.
Figures from Ucas, the university admissions body, show that 63 per cent of all candidates are now predicted to get at least an A and two B grades at A level – up 9 percentage points from four years ago.
Yet the data shows that only a fifth of those predicted to score ABB actually achieve those grades – a 40 per cent drop from just six years ago.
READ MORE
Students increasingly admitted to university without three A-levels
The ploy by teachers has been successful because growing numbers of universities are offering “discounts” on their conditional offers to prospective students when A-level results are released.
This is because the Government decision to lift the cap on the number of places universities can offer has increased competition among the institutions when it comes to signing up students.
However, many teachers still reckon they need to bump up their students’ potential A-level grades to ensure they are noticed and are given a provisional offer by universities. More than half of pupils accepted on predicted A-level results – 52 per cent – missed their conditional offer grades by one grade or two, another substantial rise on four years ago. Senior academics say controversy over the issue could reignite calls to move to a system whereby pupils apply for their university places after they receive their A-level results.
Many teachers believe they need to bump up their students’ potential A-level grades to ensure they receive offers by universities (iStock)
The change was called for by a government inquiry headed by former Vice-Chancellor Steven Schwartz a decade ago but disappeared from the table when universities and schools could not agree to the changes necessary to the education calendar to implement it.
The new figures and the trend they highlight were disclosed by Mary Curnock Cook, chief executive of Ucas, at a conference at Wellington College on the future of higher education.
University admissions in numbers
63% of all candidates predicted to get at least an A and two B grades at A-levels
One in five actually achieve those grades
495,940 university applicants in England
52% of candidates accepted on predicted grades miss them by one grade or two
44% of students being admitted with three B grade passes or lower, compared with 20 per cent in 2011
Ms Curnock Cook said that, in discussions with teachers, she had asked: “Surely you wouldn’t be over-predicting your students’ grades last summer?” She told the conference: “I have teachers coming back to me saying: ‘Actually, yes we would.’
“The offers are being discounted at confirmation time,” said Ms Curnock Cook, referring to A-level results day. “It’s been [caused by] the lifting of the number controls that has increased competition [amongst universities].”
“You have to hope you can unlock some latent talent [in those taken in with lower grades],” said one university source. “If you don’t take them in, they could be snapped up by a rival and their reputation increases.”
As well as lower-ranking institutions, high-tariff universities – those most selective in their intake – are also lowering their entry requirements, with 44 per cent of students being admitted with three B-grade passes or lower, compared with just 20 per cent in 2011.
Professor Michael Arthur, provost of University College London, said his university had dropped a grade in 9 per cent of admissions.
Many universities have seen huge rises in the numbers of students they are enrolling. Professor Arthur said the number of students at his university had soared from 24,000 six years ago to 37,500. Part of the increase was down to mergers with other bodies such as the Institute of Education – but at least half was due to a rise in student numbers.
However, the number of university applicants from England decreased on the previous year by 0.2 percentage points to 495,940, the new figures show. The number of 18-year-olds applying also fell by 2.2 per cent.
Overall the number of university applicants for this autumn has held steady – with 593,720 applicants (up 0.2 percentage points on last year) by the time of the January deadline. But the increase was down to a significant rise in applications from the EU – up 6 percentage points to 45,220.
The figures show that more disadvantaged pupils applied than ever before – up 5 percentage points in England, 2 in Scotland and 8 in Wales.
Ms Curnock Cook urged students to be “bold” in their Ucas applications and take advantage of the fact that leading universities were lowering their admissions criteria. Speakers at the conference said parental pressure was partly to blame for teachers upping predictions for their pupils.
Overall the number of university applicants for this autumn has held steady – with 593,720 applicants (up 0.2 percentage points on last year) by the time of the January deadline. But the increase was down to a significant rise in applications from the EU – up 6 percentage points to 45,220.
The figures show that more disadvantaged pupils applied than ever before – up 5 percentage points in England, 2 in Scotland and 8 in Wales.
Ms Curnock Cook urged students to be “bold” in their Ucas applications and take advantage of the fact that leading universities were lowering their admissions criteria. Speakers at the conference said parental pressure was partly to blame for teachers upping predictions for their pupils.
The UCAS clearing house call centre in Cheltenham (Getty Images)
Another teacher said that performance-related pay, which means teachers’ salary increases depend on the results of their pupils – was leading them to predict higher grades.
“Performance-related pay and performance-related management play a part,” they said. “It is why you have to be a little bit aspirational.”
However, it was acknowledged this could be a double-edged sword – as failure to achieve the grades could result in teachers being penalised for failing to meet their targets.
Ms Curnock Cook also predicted that the number of students taking the A-level route to university would continue to drop over the next four years,
Last week Ucas showed that the number of students taking the vocational route through Btecs had almost doubled from 14 per cent in 2008 to 26 per cent last year. Predicted outcomes showed the number taking the traditional A-level route was likely to decline by 25,000 by 2020 – while the number with vocational qualifications would go up by 15,000.
A Department for Education spokesperson said: "We trust teachers to act in the best interests of their students by giving fair predicted A level grades that accurately reflect their ability.
"Distorting grades would be unfair on the pupils involved and could result in universities having to artificially inflate their entrance requirements, rendering it pointless in the long run."
Saturday, 17 October 2015
School leaders quickly forget how tough teaching is
The Secret Teacher in The Guardian
I have recently completed a quest. This quest took several years and led me from the panic-stricken landscape of the newly-qualified teacher (NQT), through the fraught and often terrifying forests of achievement as head of department, to the ivory tower of the senior leadership team (SLT).
Once I stepped inside, the doors closed behind me; I was swept away from the camaraderie of my colleagues and enveloped in a world of administration and posturing. I lived in the darkness there for more than four years, until I had no choice but to escape. Driven mad by bureaucracy, vain nobility and shadowy villains who sought to protect only themselves, I opted to fall upon my sword and return to the chalkface, where I would be reunited with my own morality. And so here I am – older and wiser.
OK, so that’s a bit of an exaggeration. I actually enjoyed being on the SLT most of the time, but some dramatic life events taught me that data, progression and status are not everything. My mother died within weeks of being diagnosed with a terminal illness and I realised life is for living. So I stepped away from the SLT and return to the classroom, thinking that I would have space to pursue my interests and improve my quality of life in the face of such sadness. I was in for a surprise.
I was certain that my move would buy me more time; no more endless piles of admin, no more mind-numbing meetings until 7pm, no more grim governors’ reports to write, no more dour disciplinary panels to attend. But I had forgotten that the windows in the ivory tower are obscured by pot plants so tall that you can’t see the stressed faces of the teachers as they race past. If you do chance to look up from your paperwork, your rose-tinted glasses made their lives look quite romantic. Oh, how the students adored them! How much fun they had together in their teams! I remembered those days …
I had forgotten that my multitudinous leadership tasks were generously accommodated by my timetable. Yes, I had a lot to do, but I was given a lot of time to do it. How did I forget that it’s impossible to plan adequate lessons in five non-contact periods a week? How did I forget that as I reluctantly sat in meetings, angry that I had failed to see any daylight for the majority of winter, my main-scale colleagues were marking and planning in their classrooms or at their dining tables? How did I think that I had it harder than them?
I had also forgotten how differently you are treated when you are not on the SLT; new staff failed to acknowledge me on the first day in the classroom and even the students seemed to think they could try it on now that my power was diminished. As my fingers hover over reporting Jimmy’s fifth instance of insolence in a week, I wonder if my former SLT colleagues are going to pass the blame on to me, as they so often did to others.
My mistake was not in giving it all up, but in forgetting how hard all teachers work and allowing myself to be sucked in to the dark world of judgment that the SLT inhabits.
Life in the tower is reminiscent of The Emperor’s New Clothes. The headteacher would suggest a crazy idea and every single member of the leadership team would nod in agreement and smile. Meanwhile, the minor failures of main-scale teachers would be aired in evening briefing, upon which each member would shake their heads and tut, obstinately refusing to remember the difficulty of full-time teaching.
The doors close on accountability, too; as one of the accepted few you become the judge, not the accused. Steely-eyed SLT members brandish clipboards and conduct clinical learning walks and observations for dissection later, but are only observed by each other, allowing weak teaching to be dismissed by close colleagues. In fact, the only time the SLT is truly accountable is when the inspectors call, and that’s when the panic arises. But once they have gone, the “inadequate” teachers only have themselves to blame and the “outstanding” ratings are all thanks to us.
On reflection, I’m not sorry that I left. I never really managed to bridge the gap that so obviously exists between the SLT and other staff. The ridiculous and impossible demands on normal teachers’ time are an enigma to most SLT members. Perhaps an enforced main-scale sabbatical would teach many SLT members an important lesson? My own reminder has certainly made me a better person, even if I am denied the time to be a better teacher.
I have recently completed a quest. This quest took several years and led me from the panic-stricken landscape of the newly-qualified teacher (NQT), through the fraught and often terrifying forests of achievement as head of department, to the ivory tower of the senior leadership team (SLT).
Once I stepped inside, the doors closed behind me; I was swept away from the camaraderie of my colleagues and enveloped in a world of administration and posturing. I lived in the darkness there for more than four years, until I had no choice but to escape. Driven mad by bureaucracy, vain nobility and shadowy villains who sought to protect only themselves, I opted to fall upon my sword and return to the chalkface, where I would be reunited with my own morality. And so here I am – older and wiser.
OK, so that’s a bit of an exaggeration. I actually enjoyed being on the SLT most of the time, but some dramatic life events taught me that data, progression and status are not everything. My mother died within weeks of being diagnosed with a terminal illness and I realised life is for living. So I stepped away from the SLT and return to the classroom, thinking that I would have space to pursue my interests and improve my quality of life in the face of such sadness. I was in for a surprise.
I was certain that my move would buy me more time; no more endless piles of admin, no more mind-numbing meetings until 7pm, no more grim governors’ reports to write, no more dour disciplinary panels to attend. But I had forgotten that the windows in the ivory tower are obscured by pot plants so tall that you can’t see the stressed faces of the teachers as they race past. If you do chance to look up from your paperwork, your rose-tinted glasses made their lives look quite romantic. Oh, how the students adored them! How much fun they had together in their teams! I remembered those days …
I had forgotten that my multitudinous leadership tasks were generously accommodated by my timetable. Yes, I had a lot to do, but I was given a lot of time to do it. How did I forget that it’s impossible to plan adequate lessons in five non-contact periods a week? How did I forget that as I reluctantly sat in meetings, angry that I had failed to see any daylight for the majority of winter, my main-scale colleagues were marking and planning in their classrooms or at their dining tables? How did I think that I had it harder than them?
I had also forgotten how differently you are treated when you are not on the SLT; new staff failed to acknowledge me on the first day in the classroom and even the students seemed to think they could try it on now that my power was diminished. As my fingers hover over reporting Jimmy’s fifth instance of insolence in a week, I wonder if my former SLT colleagues are going to pass the blame on to me, as they so often did to others.
My mistake was not in giving it all up, but in forgetting how hard all teachers work and allowing myself to be sucked in to the dark world of judgment that the SLT inhabits.
Life in the tower is reminiscent of The Emperor’s New Clothes. The headteacher would suggest a crazy idea and every single member of the leadership team would nod in agreement and smile. Meanwhile, the minor failures of main-scale teachers would be aired in evening briefing, upon which each member would shake their heads and tut, obstinately refusing to remember the difficulty of full-time teaching.
The doors close on accountability, too; as one of the accepted few you become the judge, not the accused. Steely-eyed SLT members brandish clipboards and conduct clinical learning walks and observations for dissection later, but are only observed by each other, allowing weak teaching to be dismissed by close colleagues. In fact, the only time the SLT is truly accountable is when the inspectors call, and that’s when the panic arises. But once they have gone, the “inadequate” teachers only have themselves to blame and the “outstanding” ratings are all thanks to us.
On reflection, I’m not sorry that I left. I never really managed to bridge the gap that so obviously exists between the SLT and other staff. The ridiculous and impossible demands on normal teachers’ time are an enigma to most SLT members. Perhaps an enforced main-scale sabbatical would teach many SLT members an important lesson? My own reminder has certainly made me a better person, even if I am denied the time to be a better teacher.
Friday, 28 August 2015
The Elite Opt-out - 'Government officials should send their children to government schools'
Manish Sabharwal in The Indian Express
Earlier this month, the Allahabad High Court gave the state chief secretary till the next academic session to require anybody drawing a government salary to send their children to only government schools. The order also specified that the promotions and increments of violators should be deferred, and required that any fees paid to private schools by government servants be deducted from their salary and paid into the state treasury. The judge felt this extreme step was the only way to improve government schools. Is this judgment absurd or wonderful common sense?
This judgment pulls me in two different directions because of who I am (son of government servants who sent me to a private school) and what I do (our company hires only 5 per cent of the children who come to us for a job because their schools let them down). Who I am believes this judgment is absurdity. What I do believes it is wonderful common sense. Why this divergence?
The first reaction is because this judgment violates the fundamental rights of all children of government employees by limiting where they can go to school based on their parents’ profession. I know my professional progress is a child of my private school education; I would not be where I am if I had been forced into a government school in Uttar Pradesh (where my parents are from) or in Jammu and Kashmir (where my parents worked). It’s also unfair to hold every present government servant accountable for the actions and outcomes of a small number of past and present education department bureaucrats. It hardly seems fair that the judgment should not be applied to past politicians who have grossly distorted government school-teacher recruiting, compensation and performance management, or past judges whose judgments have distorted the governance of educational institutions. The problem with holding the current government-employee cohort accountable for school outcomes is the long shadow cast by education policy decisions, where toxic effects show up only after a decade.
But my second reaction is rooted in a recognition of human nature. Wouldn’t Employee’s State Insurance hospitals improve if we forced government servants to use them and abolished their exclusive Central Government Health Scheme? Wouldn’t EPFO reform have happened years ago if every government servant was forced to deal with the organisation for their pensions? Wouldn’t ministers standing in line for security and boarding at airports have forced security forces to reduce lines by junking the meaningless stamping, and checking of stamping, of hand baggage tags and boarding cards? Wouldn’t there have been more urgency for power reforms if distribution companies were prohibited from creating VIP areas where power is uninterrupted? Wouldn’t we have better urban planning, housing and public transport if government servants were not given houses and cars and all their benefits were monetised instead?
Given India’s poor service-delivery outcomes; it’s certainly a tantalising possibility to subject government servants to the consequences of their actions. This judgment is obviously the product of an interesting mind — Justice Sudhir Agarwal — but it is also a child of broader trends in society and merely reflects the rising aspirations and expectations of millions of Indians. India’s poor and youth are no longer willing to be held hostage to poor government provision. They recognise that “elite opt-out” accelerates the decline of the public system because powerful and loud voices don’t care. My parents retired to Kanpur, where the fastest growing industries are private bottled water, private security, private generators, private healthcare and private schools; the poor in UP are buying what should be public goods because their rights as consumers are greater than their rights as citizens. India is reaching the point where government sins of commission (what it does wrong) are not as toxic as government sins of omission (what it does not do). Alexander Hamilton wrote that the courts are the weakest of the three branches of government because they control neither sword nor purse. India’s courts cannot sustainably fix public service-delivery. Government schools can only be fixed by politicians obsessed with execution, not inputs.
The execution problem goes beyond schools. The Indian state has been designed for less complexity, scale and accountability than it faces. Going forward, the state must do fewer things, but do them well. It must retreat where the market works but act muscularly where the market fails. It must separate its role as policymaker, regulator and service-provider in all areas. It must create the hope of rising and fear of failing for the permanent generalist civil service and supplement them with specialist lateral entry. Fixing government schools is crucial to economic democracy; I work for a company that has hired somebody every five minutes for the last five years, but only hired five per cent of job applicants. You can’t teach kids in one year of vocational training at the exit gate of K-12 education what they should have learnt in the 12 years of school. An unskilled or unemployed Indian is not a free Indian. So — with all the hypocrisy of somebody whose turn for a government school education under this judgment is past — I hope the wonderful common sense that this judgment represents is upheld.
Earlier this month, the Allahabad High Court gave the state chief secretary till the next academic session to require anybody drawing a government salary to send their children to only government schools. The order also specified that the promotions and increments of violators should be deferred, and required that any fees paid to private schools by government servants be deducted from their salary and paid into the state treasury. The judge felt this extreme step was the only way to improve government schools. Is this judgment absurd or wonderful common sense?
This judgment pulls me in two different directions because of who I am (son of government servants who sent me to a private school) and what I do (our company hires only 5 per cent of the children who come to us for a job because their schools let them down). Who I am believes this judgment is absurdity. What I do believes it is wonderful common sense. Why this divergence?
The first reaction is because this judgment violates the fundamental rights of all children of government employees by limiting where they can go to school based on their parents’ profession. I know my professional progress is a child of my private school education; I would not be where I am if I had been forced into a government school in Uttar Pradesh (where my parents are from) or in Jammu and Kashmir (where my parents worked). It’s also unfair to hold every present government servant accountable for the actions and outcomes of a small number of past and present education department bureaucrats. It hardly seems fair that the judgment should not be applied to past politicians who have grossly distorted government school-teacher recruiting, compensation and performance management, or past judges whose judgments have distorted the governance of educational institutions. The problem with holding the current government-employee cohort accountable for school outcomes is the long shadow cast by education policy decisions, where toxic effects show up only after a decade.
But my second reaction is rooted in a recognition of human nature. Wouldn’t Employee’s State Insurance hospitals improve if we forced government servants to use them and abolished their exclusive Central Government Health Scheme? Wouldn’t EPFO reform have happened years ago if every government servant was forced to deal with the organisation for their pensions? Wouldn’t ministers standing in line for security and boarding at airports have forced security forces to reduce lines by junking the meaningless stamping, and checking of stamping, of hand baggage tags and boarding cards? Wouldn’t there have been more urgency for power reforms if distribution companies were prohibited from creating VIP areas where power is uninterrupted? Wouldn’t we have better urban planning, housing and public transport if government servants were not given houses and cars and all their benefits were monetised instead?
Given India’s poor service-delivery outcomes; it’s certainly a tantalising possibility to subject government servants to the consequences of their actions. This judgment is obviously the product of an interesting mind — Justice Sudhir Agarwal — but it is also a child of broader trends in society and merely reflects the rising aspirations and expectations of millions of Indians. India’s poor and youth are no longer willing to be held hostage to poor government provision. They recognise that “elite opt-out” accelerates the decline of the public system because powerful and loud voices don’t care. My parents retired to Kanpur, where the fastest growing industries are private bottled water, private security, private generators, private healthcare and private schools; the poor in UP are buying what should be public goods because their rights as consumers are greater than their rights as citizens. India is reaching the point where government sins of commission (what it does wrong) are not as toxic as government sins of omission (what it does not do). Alexander Hamilton wrote that the courts are the weakest of the three branches of government because they control neither sword nor purse. India’s courts cannot sustainably fix public service-delivery. Government schools can only be fixed by politicians obsessed with execution, not inputs.
The execution problem goes beyond schools. The Indian state has been designed for less complexity, scale and accountability than it faces. Going forward, the state must do fewer things, but do them well. It must retreat where the market works but act muscularly where the market fails. It must separate its role as policymaker, regulator and service-provider in all areas. It must create the hope of rising and fear of failing for the permanent generalist civil service and supplement them with specialist lateral entry. Fixing government schools is crucial to economic democracy; I work for a company that has hired somebody every five minutes for the last five years, but only hired five per cent of job applicants. You can’t teach kids in one year of vocational training at the exit gate of K-12 education what they should have learnt in the 12 years of school. An unskilled or unemployed Indian is not a free Indian. So — with all the hypocrisy of somebody whose turn for a government school education under this judgment is past — I hope the wonderful common sense that this judgment represents is upheld.
Saturday, 27 June 2015
The work of a great teacher is for life
Michael Henderson in The Telegraph
Teachers, as John Osborne observed, are underpaid as child-minders, and overpaid as educators. DH Lawrence, who, like many writers, was a teacher, knew even more keenly the difficulty of imparting knowledge both to young people who are not particularly interested and to those who are. Education is a significant feature of his twinned novels, The Rainbow and Women in Love.
The wisest teachers understand that the best work they do may not be apparent for many years – decades, even. From the sunlit meadows of middle age, it is possible to recall those who taught us in our youth, and recognise the debt we owe them. But it would be a very precocious teenager who could say as much.
Getting good grades is important, but it is not the only important thing, and ultimately it is not the most important thing. Our lives are shaped by other forces, and so it is only with the passing of the years that we acknowledge the value of those teachers who opened doors, though we did not at the time recognise their many acts of kindness.
Last month, our school held a memorial service for an English teacher who opened doors aplenty, not least in the summer months when he captained a cricket team, the Vagabonds, that wandered around the villages of Derbyshire. Michael Charlesworth was a liberal, tolerant man who knew that our language was our greatest gift. He was also a superb director of plays, and a bit of a mummer himself.
Although he retired a quarter of a century ago, the chapel was full of people who had travelled from far and wide to celebrate his life. There were proper hymns, well sung, and Shakespeare made his customary appearance before Sir Christopher Frayling, one of Mike’s old boys, presented an address on behalf of us all. Then we recessed to the organ voluntary – the theme tune from Match of the Day!
Most people, one hopes, had a teacher like that. A Mr Chips figure – appropriate in this case, as the great Robert Donat film of 1939 was shot at our school. The horrible modern word is “inspirational” but if your life has been touched in some way, you feel it in your blood.
Sir Chris Woodhead, who died this week, admired Lawrence. He, too, understood the difficulties of “drawing out” (from the Latin verb “educare”), but he spent most of his life trying to do just that, first in the classroom and then as head of Ofsted. That he had to put up with years of abuse from bigoted, incompetent teachers was a tribute of sorts. He told them what they needed to hear but feared to be told.
Christopher Woodhead visiting Davenant Foundation School in Essex in 1998
Christopher Woodhead visiting Davenant Foundation School in Essex in 1998
If anybody required a reminder of just how ghastly some of these teachers were – and are – the evidence could be found on websites after Woodhead passed away. “May you rot in hell,” screamed one delightful scribbler. Consider those words, and imagine, if you can, the person who wrote them: an adult with responsibility for educating children.
Belatedly, there is recognition, even from his opponents, that Woodhead was on to something. Just as many teachers, the ones not brainwashed by the “holistic problematised pedagogies” that Woodhead liked to mock, realise that Michael Gove’s reforms are beginning to bear fruit.
Although, like every generation before, today’s pupils may have to wait years to find out how and why.
Saturday, 13 June 2015
Marking exam papers exposes the flaws in teaching
It is staggering how many teaching staff I know that do not read examiners’ reports or even the exam specification and so their class often misses out on marks. Photograph: Alamy
The Secret Teacher in The Guardian
A detailed but incorrect answer appears beside every question on an exam sheet. The answers are peppered with technical language but their ideas make little sense. This is one of the most frustrating errors I see as an exam marker.
I took the position up a few years ago after some persuasion from a colleague and the lure of some extra holiday money. I was told that it would be excellent training and help me to become a more effective classroom teacher as I would understand the demands of the exam boards more closely.
Yes it is true that I understand the application of mark schemes better than before, and it definitely looks good on my CV. But I don’t think I can do it much longer.
Each year, I clear my diary for June and plan my time carefully to ensure that I can mark to a strict timetable, giving the papers my highest level of focus. And every year I become more and more depressed by the standard of the responses and the restrictive nature of the mark schemes.
The most saddening answers are simply left blank, or there could be a crossed out sentence. This may be understandable at GCSE for a short answer, but I have seen full essay questions left blank in A-level exams. I cannot help but picture the student sat in the exam hall, pen in hand and nothing to write. I wonder how they feel; it makes me sad and angry that maybe they’ve not had all the help they deserve from their teacher.
On another occasion a GCSE student covered a whole page in calculations trying to work out a simple percentage change question. They drew a box and arrows pointing to their eventual (wrong) answer, but they must have spent at least 20 minutes on a question that should take no more than two.
The Secret Teacher in The Guardian
A detailed but incorrect answer appears beside every question on an exam sheet. The answers are peppered with technical language but their ideas make little sense. This is one of the most frustrating errors I see as an exam marker.
I took the position up a few years ago after some persuasion from a colleague and the lure of some extra holiday money. I was told that it would be excellent training and help me to become a more effective classroom teacher as I would understand the demands of the exam boards more closely.
Yes it is true that I understand the application of mark schemes better than before, and it definitely looks good on my CV. But I don’t think I can do it much longer.
Each year, I clear my diary for June and plan my time carefully to ensure that I can mark to a strict timetable, giving the papers my highest level of focus. And every year I become more and more depressed by the standard of the responses and the restrictive nature of the mark schemes.
The most saddening answers are simply left blank, or there could be a crossed out sentence. This may be understandable at GCSE for a short answer, but I have seen full essay questions left blank in A-level exams. I cannot help but picture the student sat in the exam hall, pen in hand and nothing to write. I wonder how they feel; it makes me sad and angry that maybe they’ve not had all the help they deserve from their teacher.
On another occasion a GCSE student covered a whole page in calculations trying to work out a simple percentage change question. They drew a box and arrows pointing to their eventual (wrong) answer, but they must have spent at least 20 minutes on a question that should take no more than two.
Some students miss out on recognition because they lack the simple skill of clear handwriting; we cannot award the marks if we can’t read the answer. If it is illegible, there is no choice but to only credit the parts I can read.
Then there’s the other side of the scale: some essays are magnificent and show understanding of a topic that goes far beyond the requirements of the course. These are beautifully written and include complex analysis worthy of an undergraduate. But many of these responses go uncredited if they do not fit the exacting standard of the mark scheme.
I have seen some students get marks “capped” because they haven’t included a certain phrase or diagram, even though their overall work was of a high standard. This is reflected in the classroom and I have students asking how many sentences of analysis they need, and how many evaluation points. Whatever happened to writing a good essay and answering the question to the best of your ability?
I understand that exams are necessary to be able to award qualifications to students, and that mark schemes can ensure that grades are fair and consistent – perhaps this is something that cannot be changed. But I just cannot stop picturing the students sat in the exam halls, some with nothing to write at all, some writing illegibly, and others writing brilliantly but not being rewarded.
It’s clear something isn’t working if a student is enrolled on a course, but ends up without anything to show for it.
Some students do not engage – perhaps because they are not supported emotionally at home and in school – and cannot cope with the demands of study. Others are simply not on the right course. Even more worryingly, too many students fail to achieve because of poor teaching.
It is staggering how many teaching staff I know that do not read examiners’ reports or even the exam specification and so their class often misses out on marks.
It all boils down to time. We don’t need another initiative or want the system to change again but teachers need support to deliver well-designed courses and give detailed feedback to students. This would happen if class sizes were more manageable, reducing the level of marking we have to get through. It really is that simple.
Education and exams should not be the final stage for young people, but the start of their life. Yet, too many are beginning this journey far behind their peers. Let’s not let students down. We are measured by their results for that one year; but they may be measured by these grades for life.
Tuesday, 17 March 2015
Great teacher = great results? Wrong
Jack Marwood in The Guardian
Sir Michael Barber, once a chief education adviser to Tony Blair, introduced one of the enduring modern myths about education when he quoted an unnamed South Korean policymaker in 2007, who said: “The quality of an education system cannot exceed the quality of its teachers.” This great teacher myth is often presented as a simple equation: great teaching gets great results. It’s a view that is widely held, tremendously appealing and completely wrong.
It sounds plausible. After all, children spend a lot of time at school and, collectively, we spend a great deal of money on education. By the time they are 16, children have been at school for 10,000 hours, the figure often said to be the minimum necessary to master a skill, and we spend around 5% of our GDP on education. Surely teachers must be the biggest factor in ensuring that all this effort is worthwhile?
David Cameron spoke “as a parent, not just a politician” when he recently introduced yet another plan to “deliver the best teachers” to “make Britain the best place in the world to learn”. “The best teachers” has become a common refrain in the ongoing narrative about schools, and it is very clear that many parents, pundits and politicians assume that the prime driver of attainment in schools is teachers themselves. So embedded is this idea, in fact, that when we hear that teaching is in crisis it is often assumed that this is because we don’t have enough good quality teachers. And often, we hear that by removing the bad teachers from the system, we will see improvements in future.
There is a huge problem with this view. Just how do you know who are bad teachers? For the past 40 years, a movement now known as “school effectiveness research” has promoted the idea that good teachers get good outcomes for children. Those who believe this also believe that, by removing bad teachers from our schools and replacing them with better ones, the crisis will be averted.
The key issue with this line of thinking is that teachers aren’t actually directly responsible for the learning in schools. Because, when it comes down to it, children are the ones who actually have to do the learning. Unfortunately, much to the frustration of every teacher – and parent – in the land, children don’t always do what they are told, or learn what we attempt to teach them. What’s more, children are by definition immature, and they don’t always know what is best for them. To further complicate matters, some children find school and learning easy and some don’t, often for reasons out of their, and our, control.
While teachers have to take responsibility for providing the very best circumstances in which to learn, any parent will know that children have their own ideas regardless of what we have to say about the matter. Children, sadly, are not all passively waiting to be filled up with facts and knowledge like empty vessels. The resistance of some children is legendary. Others overwhelm us with their eagerness to learn. But trying to teach anyone anything is tricky unless they actually want to learn, and are in a position to do so. What’s more, learning is hard work; it requires effort, repetition, practice, mental and physical exertion.
All this adds up to a picture of complexity ill served by the great teacher = great results myth. As is well known in the world of educational research, the variation in outcomes within any school is much, much larger than the variation between schools. In the same school, with the same teachers, some children learn a lot and others not so much, because while teachers teach, children are ultimately responsible for what they learn. There is lots of evidence that the vast majority of any child’s learning is due to their own efforts, not that of the school or of their teachers. In fact, academics such as Dylan Wiliam of the Institute of Education in London suggest that around nine times as much of a child’s measured learning outcomes can be attributed to the child rather than the difference their schooling has made.
Does that mean that teachers don’t matter? Of course it doesn’t. We need teachers who help children to get the most from their time in school. It does, however, mean that the common assumptions about what schools can achieve are based on a fallacy. Because learning is done by the child, and not by the teacher, and no education system can exceed the desire and capabilities of its children. The Korean policymaker was wrong. Schools are a very thin layer of icing on a very, very big cake. As highly skilled, dedicated and inspirational as the icing might be, in the end it is the cake that counts.
Friday, 13 March 2015
Fixing our schools: 'it's not the policy, it's the people'
Heath Monk in The Telegraph
There is an election coming and education is bound to be a key issue because there are still too many schools where students aren’t doing well enough. We’ll have to spend the next few months listening to prospective Education Secretaries explain how they will fix this. But the truth is we don’t need more policy: we need a revolution. And it has already started, quietly.
This ‘Quiet Revolution’ is how school improvement really works. It’s not about top-down decisions made in Westminster; it’s about exceptional school leaders and great teachers transforming their schools through hard work and expertise.
Over the past decades successive governments have used policy to reconfigure curricula, tighten accountability and shake up governance. I’ve worked in the Department for Education alongside the people who made some of these changes and, without a doubt, they are genuinely motivated by the desire to make a positive change.
But while policies can set expectations and contexts, they are not magic wands. They frequently fail to translate to the front line and some of them aren’t even good ideas, creating more noise than signal.
No political party is immune to this sort of thinking. Recent examples include Tristram Hunt’s pedagogic oath to ensure teacher’s moral purpose (as if medical doctors never go bad), Cameron’s ‘war on mediocre schools’ (haven't they always been with us?) and the confusion caused by universal free school meals in primary.
Our political culture now relies on bold promises and vague delivery, and that is not what students from disadvantaged backgrounds need. They are the ones who are most harmed by bad schools and they need a quiet revolution most of all.
The mission of giving these young people a great education will not be achieved just through change at the top. My reading of history is that even loud revolutions leave much unchanged. If the deep structures aren’t modified, you’re just re-arranging the chairs.
It’s school leadership that changes things on the ground. A great headteacher can transform an entire school because they have the skills and vision to understand what their teachers and students need to succeed.
I hope I can take the next Education Secretary around one the schools I’ve visited recently and show them how real school improvement happens. It’s the head who shakes hands with every pupil at the gate; who consistently enforces the rule that every student must be ready to learn by bringing a pencil, pen and ruler to their lessons; or who instils a ‘no hands up’ class room culture so it’s not the same keen students answering questions.
This might sound like window-dressing but there’s lots of data that shows that it is not. These everyday actions lead to shared values, language and culture throughout a school – and that can change students’ lives.
The organisation I work for is part of this Quiet Revolution, though we have borrowed the phrase. We train people who want to become headteachers because they are driven by the moral purpose to give every child the opportunity to succeed.
We’ve devoted part of our website to celebrating and sharing some of the most effective things they’ve seen in schools. This work isn’t revolutionary because of fad or fashion but because they’ve done it really (really) well.
Since Future Leader Jane Keeley became headteacher at Haggerston School in Hackney the school has regained its standing in the community, engaging students and families and improving results. Future Leader Luke Sparkes helped set up Dixons Trinity Academy in one of the most deprived areas of Bradford and has instilled a culture where children love school and are excelling academically.
The work of school improvement isn’t complicated but it is hard. It requires dedication to students and a commitment to continual development. It doesn’t happen systematically just because of edicts from Westminster but because of individuals who know that there isn’t any time to waste.
Every child who leaves school without five good GCSEs including English and maths will face reduced choices and opportunities, damaging lives and communities.
I like the tradition in Ancient Rome, where conquering generals would return in triumph and ride through the city with someone whispering in their ear, ‘Remember: you are mortal.’ Post-election, I’d love to stand behind whoever is at the dispatch box and whisper: ‘It’s not the policy, it’s the people.’
The Quiet Revolution is for school leaders and teachers who believe that every child can achieve, who are always searching for better ways to support their students – and who will not stop, whatever the current system.
Tuesday, 20 January 2015
What really makes a good teacher?
Barnaby Lenon in the Telegraph
A NASUWT poll last week found that the majority of parents wanted ‘qualified teachers’ to teach their children. Unsurprising really, until you consider what that word ‘qualified’ really means.
In independent schools, recognised as being among the best in the world, we are free to choose our own teachers. In 2013, pupils in independent schools achieved 32 per cent of all A* grades at A-level.
Our success lies in the quality and expertise of our teachers, yet some may not have a teaching qualification. So what makes a good teacher?
They have four characteristics.
First, they love their subject and have excellent subject knowledge (the two go together). Last year Professor Rob Coe and the Sutton Trust published research into the qualities of the best teachers and this came top of the list.
It is the reason that some schools are happy to appoint an excellent graduate in a subject like physics even if they don’t have a teaching qualification. They are classified as ‘unqualified’, even though they possess the most important quality of all.
Good subject knowledge matters not only because at the top of the ability range you need to be able to stretch pupils but also because teachers with good knowledge tend to make lessons for younger children more interesting. They have more substance to be interesting about.
Secondly, they need to have the right personality. Teaching is partly acting, and acting ability helps greatly. Above all you need to be able to control a class, because without good discipline nothing worthwhile can be achieved.
So that means good teachers are those whom pupils will respect - and slightly fear if necessary. They are completely in control of what’s going on around them.
Pupils know the teacher will notice if they are misbehaving or if their work is incomplete or copied from another child and will take action - punish the child, perhaps, or require the work to be redone.
But the best teachers are not disciplinarians. They are a velvet hand in an iron glove. Pupils come to know, over time, that they are warm and generous. But they are not to be messed with. Discipline has to come first.
There are other personality traits that matter too. Good teachers are very hard working, putting a huge effort into preparing lessons, marking work and giving extra time to children who need it.
They are able to manage stress. They are passionate about their school and their pupils, keen for all to do well. They are highly organised, because switching in a few seconds from one class to another, keeping track of individuals, remembering which extra duties they are down for, managing record-keeping and databases - all this requires good organisation.
Thirdly, they need to have certain classroom skills. This is why all ‘unqualified’ teachers need some training, both before they start and throughout their first year of teaching.
They need to be shown how to deliver a lesson with pace and interest, how to use digital resources effectively, how to mark work and record those marks, how to write reports, how best to teach tricky concepts, how to ask questions of pupils in the most effective way.
Finally, they need to have high expectations of their pupils. This is a characteristic of all the best teachers. They are determined that every pupil will master their subject. This attitude sets the scene for everything which follows.
Pupils who produce unsatisfactory work must be made to redo it until they achieve a good level. Pupils will be regularly tested to see whether they have understood and learnt the work; those who do badly will be retested.
Excellent teachers believe that it is pupil effort and teaching quality which determine how well a child does, not the ability of the child. The less able children will get there in the end.
So these are characteristics of the best teachers. In terms of weighting, perhaps 30 per cent is subject knowledge, 30 per cent is personality, 30 per cent is level of expectations, 10 per cent classroom skills. Of these, only the last need be the subject of teacher training.
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