Walking the talk
Why do we privilege writing about everything else? It’s odd that high quality talk in classrooms is often regarded as an optional extra, something quite nice to do, rather than an entitlement for all pupils. Why, as a sector, do we think written outcomes matter more than talk?
‘Writing floats on a sea of talk’ - James Britton
Why do we privilege writing about everything else? It’s odd that high quality talk in classrooms is often regarded as an optional extra, something quite nice to do, rather than an entitlement for all pupils. Why, as a sector, do we think written outcomes matter more than talk? High quality talk, and its twin, listening, underpins reading and writing. And yet in too many classrooms, it’s something that is just assumed will happen, without being explicitly taught.
As Beccy Earnshaw, CEO of Voice 21[1] argues, ‘pupils’ oracy skills are too often left to chance. Classroom talk is an unstructured break in a lesson rather than a fundamental and integral part of teaching and learning. Students are rarely given feedback on the quality of their verbal contributions; teachers don’t plan the purpose of a discussion item; and neither pupil nor teacher has a consistent view as to what ‘good talk’ looks, sounds and feels like. Speaking and listening gets scant coverage in the national curriculum and unlike reading, teachers have no commonly understood indicator or guide to identifying students’ spoken language skills. Students’ speaking skills are therefore generally judged by subjective criteria created by individual teachers, or not at all.’
And yet high quality talk in classrooms does improve standards. The Education Endowment Foundation’s report on oral language interventions[2] found that for all oral language interventions, certain factors are associated with higher learning gains, suggesting that careful implementation is important. ‘For example, approaches which explicitly aim to develop spoken vocabulary work best when they are related to current content being studied in school, and when they involve active and meaningful use of any new vocabulary.’
The Education Endowment Foundation found that ‘overall, studies of oral language interventions consistently show positive impact on learning, including on oral language skills and reading comprehension. On average, pupils who participate in oral language interventions make approximately five months' additional progress over the course of a year. All pupils appear to benefit from oral language interventions, but some studies show slightly larger effects for younger children and pupils from disadvantaged backgrounds (up to 6 months' additional progress).’
Approaches to support oral language include targeted reading aloud and book discussion with young children; explicitly extending pupils’ spoken vocabulary; the use of structured questioning to develop reading comprehension; and the use of purposeful, curriculum-focused, dialogue and interaction.
School 21[3] a through school in London, believes that oracy, the ability to speak well, is one of the biggest indicators of a child’s success later in life. From the beginning, School 21 gave speaking an equal status to reading and writing in school. Oracy is present across all subjects and settings, challenging teachers to get pupils in class to talk in purposeful and meaningful ways, to model good speaking and listening in their practice and value and celebrate the spoken word. Some examples of how they make this happen: pupils in Year 4 give a three minute talk without notes in front of an audience; assemblies are a place for discussion and debate; tutor groups in the sixth form have discussions on themes from Yuval Harari’s Sapiens;[4] children of all ages are expected to rehearse their ideas, discuss, debate and recognise others’ points of view; pupils in every year group, starting in Year 1 learn parts of Shakespeare off by heart and attention is paid to the processes that support this – from Socratic dialogue to Harkness discussion[5] groups.
There are many resources available to support this work. Robin Alexander’s Dialogic Teaching[6] makes the case that ‘dialogic teaching harnesses the power of talk to engage interest, stimulate thinking, advance understanding, expand ideas, and build and evaluate arguments, empowering students for lifelong learning and democratic engagement. Being collaborative and supportive, it confers social and emotional benefits too.’ He goes on to show how it also helps teachers: by encouraging pupils to share their thinking it enables teachers to diagnose needs, devise learning tasks, enhance understanding, assess progress, and guide pupils through the challenges they encounter. This chimes with the ‘implementation’ judgement in the School Inspection Handbook[7] where it states that for judgement to be at least good ‘teachers present subject matter clearly, promoting appropriate discussion about the subject matter being taught.’
Further resources to support this work are the ‘Thinking Together Project’ from Cambridge University’s Faculty of Education[8] and the English Speaking Union’s ‘Speaking Frankly’.[9] We need to tap into these resources if we want to improve outcomes for all our pupils.
[2] https://educationendowmentfoundation.org.uk/evidence-summaries/teaching-learning-toolkit/oral-language-interventions/
[3] https://www.school21.org.uk/oracy
[4] Harari Y N Sapiens 2015: A Brief History of Humankind Vintage
[5] https://www.teacher.org/daily/what-is-the-harkness-discussion-why-ive-embraced-this-method-and-how-its-worked-for-me/
[6] http://robinalexander.org.uk/dialogic-teaching/
[7] https://www.gov.uk/government/publications/school-inspection-handbook-eif
Cynic or skeptic?
In order to get back on track, we need to think about our attitude to the status quo, to be prepared to change or remove those aspects of school activities which do not add value to pupils’ learning.
‘In a democratic society scepticism is a virtue in history as well as in philosophy.’
- Napoleon Bonaparte
In order to get back on track, we need to think about our attitude to the status quo, to be prepared to change or remove those aspects of school activities which do not add value to pupils’ learning. Then, to have reasonable conversations about what might be worth thinking about and doing differently. We have some choices about the stance we adopt. We can either subscribe to a cynical position, which is essentially one of intellectual defeatism or we can take the more nuanced approach of the skeptic.
Both the words cynic and skeptic have interesting roots. The etymology of cynic is the Greek ‘kyon’ which means dog. The philosophical movement of cynicism began in the 5th century BCE and Diogenes[1] was one of its founders. Cynicism as a school of thought in the ancient philosophical tradition argued that people can gain happiness by rigorous training and through living in a way which is natural for themselves, rejecting all conventional desires for wealth, power, and fame. Instead, they were urged to lead a simple life free from all possessions.
The modern usage of cynicism, however, generally refers to a reluctance to believe the sincerity and honesty of others. It tends to take the view that people are motivated by greed or ambition and shouldn’t be trusted. While it is possible to have a positive reading of cynicism which involves the desire to expose hypocrisy and to point out gaps between ideals and practices, generally cynicism implies a defeatist attitude to the world and its woes and as a result, it’s not worth the bother of trying to change things.
The cynical path has the potential to take us down some long and unproductive rabbit holes. The space of cynicism is occupied by blame, by defeatism, by negativity and helplessness. It is not the temporary helplessness of someone in the deep throes of loss or pain, but rather a mindset that robustly asserts that this is the way things are and they can’t possibly get any better. The real poison of the cynical stance is that it believes it is right, that it also has the right to shout down other possibilities, other ways of doing things. And that is why we need to be alert to commentary such as: ‘Things are awful, and they will never get better’; ‘What can you expect from pupils from these backgrounds?’; ‘What can you expect from this group of leaders or this government?’ The real danger of cynicism’s negativity is that it does not allow for possibility, it depresses both those who express it and those who hear it. It is resolute in not allowing the agenda to be opened up and for alternative ways of working to be explored.
The argument here is that it is more helpful to consider scepticism as this is a more productive space from which to consider our work and what might need to be changed or removed, in order to focus on the activities which had the greatest value. The word sceptic also derives from the Greek ‘skepsis’ which means inquiry or doubt.
The sceptical viewpoint, in contract to the cynical one, recognises all of the problems and challenges shrilly proclaimed by a defeatist stance. The skeptical position does not have its head in the sand, it does not follow a Pollyanna position of denial, puppies and trite exhortations to believe in better. What it does do however, is take up a clear sighted position and ask questions about whether things are good enough, strong enough, relevant enough for current circumstances. And then turn to what might be better.
The sceptic asks questions, refines the skill of questioning, turns questioning into an art form. Following, whether intentionally or not, a Socratic line of enquiry, where the outcomes are not predetermined, where they are not set out in advance but are engaged in, in an attempt to seek, not absolute truth, but a better way of going about business. And as it goes through this process, it means that those elements of our practice that still remain, do so because they have earned their right to be there. They are not there simply because they have always been there.
A significant thread of the sceptical mindset is to ask why, repeatedly. Not in an aggressive or threatening way but in a spirit of curiosity, of openness, of helpfulness, of amusement, and of being prepared to be surprised. To do this takes self-confidence, a deep knowing that it is alright not to know the answers or solutions straightaway. The likelihood is that we will not to be prepared to go to this space if we are concerned about our image, about how we come across, about what other people think of us. We have to put those factors to one side and to say: the pursuit of clarity means that it is worth letting go of some of our preconceptions.
Matthew Syed in Rebel Ideas[2] makes the case for individuals and organisations keeping an open mind, of seeing what is possible and what might be different. He tells the history of suitcases with wheels: these were only added in the 1970s. We might ask ourselves: ‘What is sitting right in front of us, staring at us, that will seem mind bogglingly obvious once we make the connection?!’
Doing this kind of work means that we have to pay attention to culture. We need to develop collective wisdom, underpinned by psychological safety. An environment is psychologically safe when people feel they can offer suggestions and take sensible risks without provoking retaliation. Syed argues ‘These wise groups express a different dynamic. They are not clone-like. They do not parrot the same views. Instead, they are more like groups of rebels. They do not disagree for the sake of it, but bring insights from different regions of the problem space.[3] As the psychologist Charlan Nemeth puts it: ‘Minority viewpoints are important, not because they tend to prevail but because they stimulate divergent attention and thought. As a result, even when they are wrong, they contribute to the detection of novel solutions that, on balance, are qualitatively better.’
[1] https://academyofideas.com/2013/05/diogenes-the-cynic/
[2] https://www.matthewsyed.co.uk/resource/rebel-ideas-the-power-of-diverse-thinking/
[3] Syed, Matthew. Rebel Ideas: The Power of Diverse Thinking John Murray Press
Essentialism
We have an awful lot of ‘stuff’ going on in schools that is getting in the way of our core business: teaching and learning. It’s time to take a hard look at this ‘stuff’ and decide whether all of it is really necessary.
‘The main thing is to keep the main thing the main thing.’
- Stephen Covey
We have an awful lot of ‘stuff’ going on in schools that is getting in the way of our core business: teaching and learning. It’s time to take a hard look at this ‘stuff’ and decide whether all of it is really necessary. Take this example from Greg McKeowan:
‘When an executive I work with took on a new senior role in the company, he inherited a process his predecessor had gone to a huge effort to implement: a huge, highly visual report on a myriad of subjects produced for the other executives each week. It consumed enormous energy from his team, and he hypothesised that it was not adding a great deal of value to the company. So to test his hypothesis he ran a reverse pilot. He simply stopped publishing the report and waited to see what the response would be. What he found was that no one seemed to miss it; after several weeks nobody had even mentioned the report. As a result, he concluded that the report was not essential to the business and could be eliminated.’[1]
Getting back to essentials is not easy, it takes real discipline. But it is worth it. There are three strands to getting back to the activities and processes that enhance our main purpose: the first is at organisational level, the second is at a personal level and the third is becoming comfortable with saying no to the activities which do not support the first two.
The first step as an organisation is to go back to first principles: what are we in schools to achieve? We need crystal clarity about what our core purpose is and this takes deep hard work. It means going back to our mission or values statement and to treat it as the solid expression of the school’s purpose. It becomes the criterion by which it is possible to measure everything that goes on within the school. We have to ask ourselves that if our school values state that the ambition is for every child to achieve through a ‘knowledge rich’ curriculum, how does this match with teachers expected to mark every piece of work which means they have little or no time to develop their own subject knowledge, or to source resources that are high quality, or have time to reflect on their practice? There needs to be a thread which connects what we say on our websites with the actual experiences of professionals who want to live up to the aspiration but are bogged down with expectations to perform activities which are not adding value to pupils’ learning.
Then at an individual level, I need to ask myself what is the highest contribution I can make? Where am I going to have most impact and how am I going to direct my energies to that first and foremost? So much of what we do is urgent, but not important. And we need to remind ourselves that ‘What is important is seldom urgent and what is urgent is seldom important.’[2] The important versus urgent matrix helps us to clarify those areas where we are likely to have the greatest impact. In order to get there, we need to make sure that we eliminate things which are neither urgent, nor important. There are many school practices that are candidates for this category and examples such as marking, data, production of differentiated worksheets are discussed in section two.
This brings us to tradeoffs. And this is where it gets uncomfortable. In order to keep the main thing, the main thing, it means having to say ‘no’. And often this means to other people. This is why it is important to have real clarity on the first two aspects of essentialism - when we are clear on those the demands on our focus, activity and purpose become easier to justify when we refuse to do them. To do this, we need to find a form of words that makes sure that it is not personal. We need to remind ourselves that we can do anything but not everything. If our focus is going to be on the essentials it means that we simply cannot say ‘yes’ to everything.
Linked to this, is the ability to ask ‘why’? We need to be doing this at the micro and the macro level. Asking ‘why?’ to others’ requests is not rude, it is about gaining clarity. If we are asked to submit detailed plans for lessons for example, then it is reasonable to ask how these are going to be used and for what purpose? If we are being asked to input data, then again it is helpful to ask ‘why’? When we keep asking why, in a pleasant manner, we are seeking justification for processes - and it might turn out that some of these are important, but others are not. And in the latter case, the asking of why is helpful for the wider system. Everyone is entitled to ask ‘why?’ - from trainee teachers, newly qualified and recently qualified teachers, teaching and learning support assistants, classroom teachers, governors, middle leaders. If everyone stops and asks why something is needed, then often we will find that something is not necessary, it’s just that we have grown used to doing things because they have always been done.
As we do this we shift from asking ourselves ‘how can I make this all work to what is the problem that I want to solve right now?’[3] When we do this it shifts the locus of our efforts onto practices and activities that really do make a difference. And this not only produces clarity, it releases energy. Energy is one of the vital factors in moving our work forward. When overloaded with redundant activities we quickly become overwhelmed, we can resort to a place of learned helplessness, of thinking that nothing really makes a difference. By taking a hard prune at the stuff we do, we release new insights, new observations and quickly realise that improving the outcomes of our core business is possible.
One of the things we need to come to terms with, in the early stages of moving to essentialism is that it will feel uncomfortable - as we learn to set boundaries to make our core business more effective and more efficient, we can feel bereft. There is after all, something comforting about routine, about busyness, about feeling we have too much to do. Stripping back to become liberated can open up psychological holes because we can feel exposed. If we are not so overwhelmed, what are we doing instead? To take some examples - if we are in a school where if it moves, we mark it and we shift to an approach of whole class feedback, where we stop marking everything that a child does, then what do we do with the extra time? Well for a start, we use whole class feedback to identity those pupils whose work is worth sharing, we identify common basic errors such as spelling mistakes and more significant misconceptions that need to be addressed. We do more thinking rather than more activity. And at first this can feel uncomfortable . Because one of the downsides of busyness is that it can be comfortable. We go through the motions, we don’t have to think too hard. And we carry on, because that is the way that we have always done things. This is no longer good enough. We need to shift to a place of deeper thought, greater purpose and this comes from our commitment to move away from the marginal, mostly redundant activities which do little to add value to our core business of developing pupils’ learning and focus instead on the actions and activities which will actually make that happen. So, one of the tradeoffs is that decreased activity will create the space for increased deliberate thinking and this won’t always be comfortable.
[1] https://gregmckeown.com/book/
The ethic of everybody
If one of our deepest needs is to belong, then how does this relate to the ethic of everybody? It is the ‘quid pro quo’ or the counterbalance of recognising our own need to belong and extending that to others. What we recognise we need for ourselves, should in turn be offered to others. The settings where this is understood are hopeful.
‘Inclusive, good-quality education is a foundation for dynamic and equitable societies.’
- Desmond Tutu
Dame Alison Peacock used this phrase when she was speaking at ResearchEd in September 2016. In talking about the work she had done over the years with Cambridge University and others, they identified that one of the strands of her work was an ‘ethic of everybody’. What might be meant by this and how might it relate to being hopeful, not helpless?
If one of our deepest needs is to belong, then how does this relate to the ethic of everybody? It is the ‘quid pro quo’ or the counterbalance of recognising our own need to belong and extending that to others. What we recognise we need for ourselves, should in turn be offered to others. The settings where this is understood are hopeful.
How does this translate into practice? It means that everyone has a voice, that everyone’s views are explicitly sought, that everyone counts. Does this result in a free for all? Is no-one in charge? No, the position statement of ‘everyone has a voice’ does not mean that anything and everything goes. It is instead, an attitude adopted by leaders and adults that things will be done with the best interests of everyone at heart, not that everyone will get their way.
To unpack ‘ethic’ a bit further. Ethic refers to the way we do things here, the manner in which we go about our business. It also has a layer of moral overtone to it - what is the right thing to do, what is the fair thing to do? And It is the combination of these two which contribute to the idea of ‘the ethic of everybody’ - doing the right thing, for the right reasons, for everyone.
Easy to say, harder to do. At a strategic level, school leaders including governors might ask themselves whether their work is underpinned by doing right by everybody. This might sound a statement of the obvious, but it comes into sharp focus when leaders are considering the distribution of funds - do the SEN groups get adequate funding - in most schools they probably do, but are the voices of children on the SEN register heard at a strategic level? Have leaders taken the trouble to ask those pupils what they think about their provision and what could improve it? Have they done similar exercises with other groups of children - the high prior attainers, the children with English a an additional language, the children who have a disabled parent or sibling at home. What is it like being at the school for them? If leaders are going to subscribe to an ethic of excellence, they need to have some checks to see whether their aspiration is tracked through and experienced at ground level.
If we think it is worthwhile looking to be hopeful rather than helpless, then subscribing to the ‘ethic of everybody’ and checking that colleagues and children, indeed everyone, including the school cat, does feel included, lifts the atmosphere, creates energy and possibility.
At the classroom level, what might the ethic of everybody look like? For one thing, the meaning of the words are unpacked. What does ‘ethic’ mean? what does the Greek mean, what might that mean in this classroom? Why is this important? Do we think it is important to include everyone? If we think it is important, what are we going to do to ensure that it happens? Some schools who are working on this, talk about what it feels like to be excluded, left out and ignored. Some primary schools are doing this a part of their circle time or equivalent, and in secondaries that are experimenting with this, they are including it in the tutorial programmes, and evaluating it to see if it makes a difference to the calmness of lessons, the relationships between pupils, and their own self reported indicators of inclusion. There will always be some for whom school is difficult, for a variety of complex reasons, whether from home or from experience, but for the majority it is possible to raise the sense of inclusion, of being part of a school if the ethic of everybody is talked about and attempts made to live up to it.
And what about the children themselves? Can they be encouraged to subscribe to the ‘ethic of everyone’ when there are no adults around, And indeed should they? Well, most children want to be happy and want those close to them to be happy. So by extension shouldn't they make a contribution to the inclusion of others if the want to be included themselves? So it is worth talking about who gets left out, what it was like when we were left out, because everyone has been at some point in their lives and if we see someone being left out, what can we do about it?
The ‘ethic of everybody’ needs to be considered not just in terms of inclusion for all, but a further dimension of contribution. Otherwise we risk doing the ethics rather than expecting all to contribute. I am going to feel powerless if I am done to all the time, I am going to feel patronised and resentful. And eventually I will switch off, so sitting alongside the ‘ethic of everybody’ is that everybody makes a contribution. And that is something beyond that which is a minimum expected of them, but rather what are the unique gifts which I can bring to this school, this classroom, this staffroom. If I’m a part of it I also want to be asked what I think, how I can make things better. Because it is the contributions, the giving of advice and expertise that I become stronger, more confident and yes, hopeful rather than helpless.
From Hopeful Schools