Oxbridge: Teachers are Unambitious (apparently)

Paul Murphy MP, last week, called Welsh teachers out on their lack of ambition in getting students from state schools into Oxbridge.  His statements only serve to put the proverbial icing on the cake in a week when Michael Gove has essentially called teachers lazy.  I wonder if government ministers, Conservative or otherwise, will ever run out of negative adjectives to use about teachers.  Perhaps they could stagger their verbal assaults – at least then, I’d be able to deal with them in one blog post at a time.  I am more than a little disappointed in a former Labour Secretary of State for Wales wading in on the teacher bashing.

Back to the point.  The idea that teachers are responsible for poor numbers of state school Oxbridge applicants is fascinating.  It is wearying to see this issue crop up time and time again.  Numbers of state school students applying to Oxbridge first appeared in 1852 when Royal Commissions for both Oxford and Cambridge showed that poorer students did not attend those venerable institutions.  Why are we still having this same debate?  And more to the point, why is it – 161 years after the first report on this issue – that we are now saying it is their teachers’ lack of ambition that has prevented students from applying to Oxbridge?

My experience has shown that, if anything, Oxbridge entrance is given top billing in state schools.  It is still seen as the gold standard of university admission and teachers who are sixth form tutors are more than willing to encourage students from all backgrounds to apply.  With an increasing number of Oxbridge graduates working in schools, there is a renewed focus on raising aspirations, using people who have been through that system themselves.

Many moons ago, when I was a student, there was a real sense of expectation around students who achieved those elusive top grades at A-Level.  If you didn’t think it was for you, you were still pushed to place an application to Oxford or Cambridge, especially if, like me, you were from a minority ethnic background.  I don’t remember a single teacher ever telling me that I shouldn’t apply or being particularly discouraging.  I am conscious now, however, that my teachers saying I should apply for an Oxbridge place was not really about me as an individual, it was about state school statistics on Oxbridge entrance.  I do feel quite cynical about it now.  But it still does not mean that my teachers were unambitious.

I know that teachers are important to their students’ perceptions of the world they live in, but I am more than aware, too, that my students are not passive receptacles of information given to them in school.  I certainly wasn’t, at that age. This is partly why I objected so violently to Boris Johnson’s comments about teachers being the reason that so many students hate Margaret Thatcher – apparently, we have indoctrinated them with our anti-Thatcher views.  Students are, more than ever, exposed to political and social comment.  They have access to the news in many different formats; they are more likely to communicate with each other via The Student Room, on Twitter and on Facebook.  They learn about the world they live in from many different sources.  If there is a hesitation on our students’ part to apply for those Oxbridge places, it may be because there is a collective awareness that it is hard to get in and that admission of state school students is lower than admission of students from independent schools.

If state school students are exposed constantly to the idea that Oxbridge is an elitist concept, then surely the barrier to be overleaped is that idea in itself.  It is not a teacher’s lack of ambition that prevents a student from applying to one of those universities, it is the students’ own perceptions of them.  It is certainly true that teachers I have worked with in the past eleven years have worked tirelessly to raise aspirations and to remind students that the perceived elitism is not a barrier to their ambitions.

As usual, teachers just need to keep powering through the criticism.

To change the record somewhat, it may be worth asking whether, in fact, there is too much focus on Oxbridge entrance.  Times, they are a-changing.  They have certainly moved on from when Paul Murphy himself went from a Catholic school in Pontypool to Oriel College, Oxford.  Now, the Russell Group of universities, made of 24 of the best higher education institutions, has a wealth of excellent teaching facilities.  One look at the rankings of universities according to subject makes it clear that if one is to go the ‘best’ university, it may not be Oxbridge for a particular subject.  While both Oxford and Cambridge rank highly, they do not always rank at the top of the list.  It begs the question, then, whether Paul Murphy’s comments are based on a real desire to see students receive the most cutting-edge, the most developed and most effective teaching at this level, or whether he – like many others, believes that having Oxford or Cambridge on your CV gives you an immediate advantage over anyone else.  If that is the case, he is just perpetuating an elitism that teachers have been trying to eliminate for years.

For many students, regardless of their socio-economic background, Oxbridge may not be the right environment for them to flourish.  Of course, there is evidence that many do.  However, it is also interesting to note that one of key failings of the charter school movement in the US is around college drop-out rates.  Charter schools laud their success in getting students from poor backgrounds into college, but are still trying to work out how to keep them there, particularly at Ivy League institutions.  Where my own students have visited Oxbridge, some have indeed returned with the absolute belief that they do not want to go there.  Why?  Because they do not feel like they fit in.  I realise that this idea will never change unless more state school students do apply and are admitted to Oxbridge – however, that perception of the institutions is not something that is created by teachers, it exists separately as a real barrier to students, particularly those from poorer backgrounds. We can be as ambitious as you like as teachers, but that doesn’t change the fact that a rarefied environment may be off-putting from students who believe, even in this day and age, that they don’t belong there.

So, it is with a heavy heart that I note Paul Murphy’s comments and that I raise a glass to my Welsh colleagues, who will soon be working with students to fill in UCAS applications to a wide range of universities, which may or may not include Oxbridge.  Good luck all – keep your heads up.

Starting the Dialogue: A Teacher’s Advice to Parents

It was with a considerably arched brow that I read recently about how The National Institute for Health and Clinical Excellence (NICE) and the Social Care Institute for Excellence (SCIE) have issued guidelines to parents on managing problematic behaviours in their children.  As a teacher, I have long been an advocate of collaborating with parents, not only on the ins and outs of academic success, but also in terms of behaviour management and developing resilient and characterful children.

It is absolutely clear that success in education does not just come from parental understanding of the finer points of an English APP grid.  Quite often, schools approach parental collaboration with a half hearted nod towards sharing academic resources and fulfilling statutory requirements to keep them informed as to how access the Ofsted Data Dashboard.  I have heard conversations in the last ten years that start with a moan about how if only teachers could get parents to manage their own children and end with the inevitable: “but I don’t have time to set up a parental engagement session in which we discuss how to set boundaries and encourage co-operation!”

We can’t have it both ways.  If we are going to comment on parental engagement as teachers, we have to be willing to have an open dialogue about what children – students – need to become successful adults.  This means biting the proverbial bullet and dealing with the fact that this dialogue can be painfully awkward.  As a teacher, I am allowed to say “your child is not behaving in a respectful or productive way” or “I am setting a sanction for undesirable behaviours” but when it comes to providing advice to parents on what I think they should do, that is when the awkwardness begins.

Fundamentally, the fact that I am not a parent works against me and in conversations with parents, I have faced that knowing smile (slightly sad, perhaps even pitying) that says: how can you possibly know what it is like to raise a child and all the difficulties that brings?

My response, never spoken aloud, is always the same.  All I do is raise children.  They come to my classroom as eleven year olds and they leave as eighteen years olds and for that time, I am partly responsible for their upbringing.  Not only do I see them through their silly seasons, their traumas, their successes, I see each and every one of them standing next to other children with other parents.  The full range.

I think if teachers had just one opportunity to stand up to the nation and give advice to parents, they would probably all say very similar things.  There are many parents out there who are brilliant at doing all those things – this is not intended to generalise about parents’ ability to raise their offspring.  So, in the spirit of sharing and dispelling the awkwardness and to start a dialogue, this is what I want to say to parents.

Talk with your child

It is not easy maintaining dialogue with a teenager.  I, too, have seen sulking and unresponsive stares.  As an English teacher, I see that the most literate children – the ones who go on to achieve the highest grades, are the ones whose parent/s talk with them.  I say ‘with’ deliberately, because I have also seen a lot of talking ‘at’ and that doesn’t necessarily work if it used all the time.  Children switch off and become immune to lectures, they are much more responsive to carefully considered questions.  Suffice to say that the talking must begin early.  All the research shows that modelling speech and conversation at an early age leads to more literate and successful children.  Shouting parents almost always lead to shouting children.

Follow through with sanctions

If your child does do something you do not approve of, or is misbehaving at school and you set a sanction, it is imperative that you follow through with that sanction.  Sitting in a meeting with your child’s teacher and saying that you will take away the X-Box/ground them for a week/stop them watching TV and then caving at the first tantrum or sulk just means they will keep on with the negative behaviour.  There is nothing more frustrating than when a teacher has a meeting with parents and is told about the sanctions that will be put in place, only to find that student gloating about how they have not had any consequences at home.  Teachers are told constantly to be consistent and firm with behaviour and sanctions; it would be brilliant if this could happen at home too.

Don’t give up

There is an oppressive sense of despair when I hear the words: “I can’t do anything with them – they won’t listen to me anymore – I give up” from a parent.  The simple fact is that if you as a parent have given up, then there is very little hope that I am going to be able to turn things around, at school or indeed, at home.  I want to be able to work with you to ensure the best outcome for the child – and yes, I can help to make things better, but if a parent washes his/her hands of a child, we may as well go for that early bath.  The thing is, I also know that even though the words are said, it is very rare that a parent actually does wash their hands of their child.  But the damage often comes from a child hearing those words.  It offers carte blanche to a child to continue behaving in the way they are, whether that be not completing homework, or arguing with teachers.

It’s not about success, it’s about effort

Carol Dweck and Claudia Mueller from Columbia University conducted a large-scale programme of research into the psychology of praise.  The findings were incredibly clear – children who were praised for effort outperformed those who were praised for success.  The day in, day out praise from a parent needs to be focused not on how clever the child is, but on how hard they work.  This is something my colleagues and I are starting to recognise and see the results of – children who are praised for effort become more resilient and are more likely to pick themselves back up from failure.  The biggest issue I see with my teenagers is the fear of failure; it often manifests itself in the child not even attempting to start something that is perceived as difficult, because that is easier than failing and trying again.  Parents can help their children to overcome this fear by praising their effort and showing them that hard work is more important than success.  Until it comes to the final examinations, of course.

Don’t blame me

The most divisive and destructive thing a child can see is a parent publicly blaming the school or an individual teacher for any problem that has occurred.  When I call parents in for a meeting, chances are I have to squeeze it into a busy day.  I am not there because I have some sort of antipathy for that particular child – I want to move forward.  If a child sees a parent criticise a teacher, that division is set.  By all means, disagree with me and my methods – tell me you think I am wrong, but not in front of the student.  You will remove any respect that student has for me and if that is the case, how can I be expected to maintain the performance of that child and to ensure that rules and regulations are kept?  In many ways, it is exactly the same thing as criticising your spouse’s interaction with your child in front of them.  One parent attacking the other’s ability to parent in front of the children is seen as destructive; it is just as much so when you make it clear to your child that you do not respect that teacher enough to speak to them privately.

Get involved with the school

My biggest hope is that more parents feel they can become involved with the school their child attends.  Lots of research has shown that parental engagement and involvement means different things to schools and parents.  Fathers often feel marginalised as parent activities in schools can be perceived as being geared towards women, some parents do not feel they can access services the school offers for parents for fear of stigmatisation.  One of the most difficult barriers in engaging parents is often their own experience of education.  I firmly believe that schools have to find ways to engage with parents productively, as studies show that children of parents who are involved with the school not only outperform other students, but also have better attendance and behaviour.

If your school has a parents’ association, try to join it.  Be proactive about contacting teachers – show that the dialogue is open.  Attend school events, where you can, with your children.  It is not easy; working hours often mean that parents find it incredibly difficult to attend evening events.  I have a lot of respect for working parents who manage to get into the school for concerts and parents’ evenings alike.

There, I’ve started the conversation.  I look forward to working with you.

A Universal Panacea? The Empathy-Led Curriculum

I keep going on about it and I probably will, simply because it makes good sense. Empathy, or the lack thereof, causes so many of the daily frustrations in teaching and prevents so much of the learning that could take place in the classroom, that it seems foolhardy to ignore the potential impact of examining this concept in detail.

The term empathy was coined many years ago from the German ‘einfuhlung’ meaning ‘in-feeling’. You might ask, how is that relevant to the discussion here today? Having a developed sense of ‘in-feeling’ and being able to tap in to others’ ‘in-feeling’ is fundamental to classroom success. How many conversations have you had, as teachers, with students who do not seem to care whether they are failing in your subject and/or others? Is it the same student who disrupts others’ learning? Perhaps that is a symptom of that student’s lack of einfuhlung and in order to encourage him or her to succeed, that sense needs to be nurtured and developed. Think of the times when you have invested in a particular child’s ‘in-feeling’ – did it have a knock on effect on that child’s perception of other students?

There are many reasons why empathy may be impaired. The link between low socio-economic background and lower levels of empathy is established in reams of research. However, for once, the ‘kids these days’ attitude may hold some truth. Technology, as much as I am an advocate of its use, has seen an increase of poorer levels of empathy. If the majority of a child’s interactions in early years are with a screen, and they grow up to interact using technology and have very few mechanisms for human interaction, it is not hard to see the possible impact that might have in the classroom. All of a sudden, the constant talking over the teacher, or another student, seems understandable (if still hugely irritating). That child does not understand, does not have the neurological experience of interacting in society with all of the regulating behaviours that involves. If a child is constantly borrowing others’ equipment, if a child is punching other students, if a child is tapping on the desk, or stealing someone’s lunch – all of these behaviours signal a poor level of empathy. I must point out that every child has the capacity to do this – I’m not saying that anyone who taps their pen on the table to the chagrin of others, is a psychopath – I’m saying the one who does it constantly, having been told, is probably a child whose ability to empathise with others is impaired.

The empathy-led curriculum, I must say, is not a substitute for an attainment or knowledge-led curriculum. The concept, as I see it, is one of two parallel structures existing as the ballast for a robust education system. Attainment and knowledge and results are one thing, and one reason why we do our jobs. The other reason we do our jobs is to ensure that we send out functional human beings who understand what it means to exist and interact in our world. Hinton et al in ‘Brain Research, Learning and Emotions: Implications for Education Research, Policy and Practice’ (2008) assert “if schools are involved in intellectual development, they are inherently involved in emotional development” and for me, I do not consider the two to be mutually exclusive. Building a student’s emotional and empathetic capacity has a knock on effect, not just for that child but for the whole room.

It think of it as an equation (and I apologise to teachers of Maths everywhere – my idea of equations involves some basic concepts joined together by mathematical symbols). The equation is: raised empathy levels = decreased disruption = higher attainment and success levels. I told you it was basic.

So what is the empathy-led curriculum, this panacea of which I speak so lengthily? I do not pretend to have all the answers – indeed, you may be better off speaking to someone who is an expert in child psychology and the development of empathy. I can only present ideas that may increase levels of empathy in your classrooms.

Of course, the PSHE curriculum, the ways we study texts in English, the way we present historical events through the people who were there can all be enhanced to include a greater focus on empathy. Just adding on modules on empathetic behaviour may not be the answer here; it’s in our daily interactions (the curriculum that we don’t ever see written down) that empathy needs to be pushed to the forefront. Our language has to change when it comes to encouraging students to behave in a more empathetic manner.

Speaking and Listening suddenly becomes absolutely vital. Admit it, if you’re an English teacher, you’ve thrown the odd speaking and listening activity to pay lip service to a National Curriculum that doesn’t quite exist, knowing that you ought to do something that involves roleplay and thought-tracking. Admit it, if you don’t teach English, speaking and listening is something that you know ought to happen in a classroom, but you’ll be strung up naked before you make students work on groups to solve whatever problem Pythogoras had. In particular, explicitly teaching what good listening looks like, using verbal directions like “show me that you are listening by looking at me” and “good listening means turning around” helps to establish the interpersonal nature of the classroom. Teaching students to incorporate other’s words into their own responses (“I’d like to you to respond with ‘I agree/I disagree with X because they said…”) is also a good tool to show students that they must absorb another’s point of view before churning out their own.

Group work can be difficult in classrooms where there are lots of students with low levels of empathy – I believe in harnessing their einfuhlung to the einfuhlung of others using table competition, team activities and team consequences. And no, I can’t believe I wrote that either. One way of increasing empathy levels in the classroom is to expose students to a wide range of people – those they would not normal encounter or choose to spend time with. I am as guilty as everyone else of allowing students to work in the same groups because it is easier for me to manage that to deal with a whole new dynamic every time. Changing it up and showing students that they can link to new people is empathy-booster. Praising empathetic behaviour can work wonders for classes who have a terrible track record of working collaboratively.

Behaviour management of low level disruption can be an opportunity to stress the importance of considering others. I used to stress the impact of poor behaviour on that individual’s attainment. Now I try to link it to the impact on others – can you think of a student in the room who always behaves well? What do you think they felt like when their learning stopped because of you? Encourage your mischief-maker to find the similarities between him or herself and that other student. It has had surprising consequences – not consistent consequences, mind you, I don’t pretend that one nod towards empathy can change years of unempathetic behaviour. It can start a process though.

If you are interested in perusing this subject further, there is a raft of literature on the subject – my own favourite – Simon Baron-Cohen’s ‘Zero Degrees of Empathy’ and also Jeremy Rifkin’s ‘The Empathic Civilisation’ – and more and more people are looking to the psycho-educational value of learning the theory behind how students interact with their peers and teachers and how this impacts upon their success levels. Daniel H. Pink’s ‘A Whole New Mind’ gives a tantalising insight into how the “conceptual age senses” as linked to developing a greater sense of empathy can impact on what happens in the classroom. He defines these “senses” as design, story, symphony, empathy, play and meaning. Consider each of those words and imagine what would happen if those “senses” were developed in your students, and in particular, students from inner city backgrounds whose levels of deprivation in their early years have led to an innate dearth of these skills.

So, is this is universal panacea? Well, possibly. There are lots of musicians who have said things like ‘love makes the world go round’ but that’s a bit soft, if you ask me. Replace ‘love’ with ‘empathy’ and you might be on to something.

This post is a response to the #blogsync topic for January suggested by Edutronic here: http://share.edutronic.net/

A Prayer for Teachers: St Francis and Leadership in Education

It’s not often that I turn to a Catholic prayer to begin anything, let alone a blog post. I count myself, most days, as agnostic. My first encounter with the Prayer of St Francis came, embarrassingly, in an episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and even then, it was a song version by chanteuse Sarah McLachlan. Even more embarrassing is the fact that I like the sentiments of a prayer that Margaret Thatcher quoted in 1979 after winning the General Election. However, despite the inauspicious circumstances of my first hearing and the associations with rampant Toryism, I am moved today to show how the prayer itself should be the mantra of those of us who work in leadership positions in education.

The prayer itself is attributed to St Francis of Assisi although it probably only dates back to 1912. St Francis was known for his commitment to poverty, to nature and the environment. Popular images show him with birds, ever the gentle hand. So, how is this prayer relevant to the modern leader in education? It reads:

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love.
Where there is injury, pardon.
Where there is doubt, faith.
Where there is despair, hope.
Where there is darkness, light.
Where there is sadness, joy.

O Divine Master,
grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled, as to console;
to be understood, as to understand;
to be loved, as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive.
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life.
Amen.

The first line requests that we are made “an instrument of [the] peace”. On a literal level, teachers in general on a daily basis function as instruments of peace. Notwithstanding the obvious connotations of behaviour management, teaching is a profession that seeks to create a peaceful and prosperous society by educating young people. It is with this in mind that we should consider our role as educators this year – are we employed to churn out grades or to mould a generation of peaceful, useful members of society? If we are truly to be instruments of peace as teachers, then the bigger picture – one that goes beyond league tables and percentages – needs to be taken into consideration.

Specifically, middle leaders, in particular, function as the sponge of all disgruntlement in schools. If you have ever been asked by a senior leader to “speak to” a classroom teacher for some small misdemeanour, then you will know what I mean. Developing skills that allow you to be the hub whilst keeping the peace between groups of staff members is absolutely essential for middle leaders. It is the core skill of the emotionally intelligent middle leader.

To be able to “pardon” when there is “injury” speaks of the kind of resilience a leader has to have in leading their team. You are the one who has the “faith” when there is “doubt”, especially when the stationery hasn’t arrived and term starts tomorrow. You are the person who remains hopeful when Year 11 seem nowhere near their target grades. The hopeful leader is the one who says that child, the one who has been written off elsewhere, is still capable of that C grade or above. You are the one that helps your team to learn that “despair” is not forever, it is just until the end of the day, after that particular class has been taught. In leadership, you relish providing the opposite perspective – and indeed, perspective, in general.

My favourite line from the prayer is the one that instructs us “not so much seek to be consoled, as to console”. In any kind of leadership position, your aim should be to alleviate the distress of others. This may not be as simple as being a shoulder to cry on – it is making sure that you are a sympathetic ear, but also an ear that listens for what is needed and then acts upon it. Distress, despair, disheartenment – they are all things that require you to “console” and the worst thing you can do to your team is to be the one that is consoled. Here, consolation is action.

If you can be the kind of leader who seeks to “understand”, and not merely a figurehead that seeks to be “understood”, you may end of commanding the kind of loyalty in a team that some people dream about. When you have to implement a new department policy, the instinct is to gather people round and make them understand your reasons for doing so. The best kind of change comes from collaboration and from understanding the perspective of others. There may be times when you have to be “understood”, but the balance should always be tipped in the favour of understanding others.

Of course, the last lines of the prayer are particularly pertinent if you are in a leadership position. It is in “dying that we are born”. Not literally, of course, but you do need to let things come to a natural end if they do not work. Policies and practices that are hindering progress can be put to one side; new isn’t always better, but it is better that stagnating and struggling. That feeling at the end of the day – when you think you are “dying” of exhaustion? It is okay to feel that – you are “born” again in the morning and the next day happens, whether you like it or not.

Now you may be thinking: what on earth has she taken to go quasi-religious and quite frankly, a bit touchy-feely? Nothing, in fact. This feels remarkably zen-like for a me that is prone to panic and frustration. Perhaps 2013 is a year in which I learn to follow my own, and St Francis’ advice, to become a better leader and for all the right reasons.

NEET: On the Scrapheap at 20?

When you look at data, the figures are large, but they turn into rows of numbers on a website. Wasn’t it wonderful news that the number of NEETs (Not in Education, Employment or Training) in England dropped in 2011? That must mean that we have some sort of brilliant system that supports those who, for some reason or another, don’t have anything to go into after they get their GCSEs. In 2011 only 958,000 young people were classed at NEET, according to the Guardian datablog. Brilliant. No news when the figures went back up in the first quarter of 2012.

The trouble with the numbers, as always, is that they hide the human face behind the acronym. The NEET discussion is not about people, with lives and circumstances, it is a political football used to score points across a debate chamber. The NEET figures are a measuring stick of success for men in suits in Westminster, when ironically, the figures are a damning indictment of their inherent failure to address the issue with any real gusto.

Yes, there is a strategy for NEETs – one Google search and you’re there, reading Deputy Prime Minister’s reassuring speeches about how we need to treat people like individuals – “We can’t treat them like round pegs being forced into square holes – if you’re young and have got to the point where you feel on the scrapheap, you need extra help to succeed in life,” he says. Always an analogy without a real directive, without a real answer to the problem. Government data on NEETs shows that the number of 16 year old NEETs pales in comparison to the number of NEETs who are over 18. These “round pegs”, if they aren’t dealt with properly at 16 or 17 – the age at which you qualify for help as a NEET – then there is nothing. The void widens and swallows you whole. That’s when not even an acronym can save you.

Meet a former student of mine – let’s call her Kim, for the sake of her anonymity. Kim is highly intelligent – and through no fault of her own, is unemployed. She dropped out of her A-Level course – not because she wasn’t smart enough to complete it, it’s just that the odds were entirely stacked against her from the start. At 12, she lost her father to a drug overdose. She managed to pick herself up again. At 14, she realised that she was gay. Her strict Greek family – with a mother that didn’t ever really cope with being a single parent – rejected her sexuality and her identity. She was in and out of counselling, Connexions tried to help her. She self harmed, she threatened to commit suicide. She picked herself up again.

At 16, she got her GCSEs – a decent set, considering her recent history. At one point, we discussed where she was to live. She was offered temporary accommodation, but had to leave because of the cockroaches and drug addicts – at 16 years old, that’s a not a life to be exposed to. After months of uncertainty, she moved back in with her mother – with whom her relationship was fragile at best.

The Sixth Form college she was at decided that she could not study her A-Levels anymore – citing her difficult behaviour and her lack of attendance. They missed the fact that she had no money, no way of getting there, nowhere to live. She dropped out and looked for work. For the past three years, she has been odd-jobbing in coffee shops and milkshake bars – part time, minimum wage. She lives alone after her partner left her for good one day. She doesn’t think she can afford the rent and her mother has said that she cannot go home again – it’s time to stand on your own two feet, Kim.

She is 20 and very much alone in the world and yet still young enough to achieve something and to be directed to a better life. Her daily trips to the Job Centre are soul-destroying. She fills in forms for whatever work she can get. There is no return. The fact is that she is a 20 year old woman, with no extended family who can help her, with a history of depression and rejection. Just because she isn’t 17 anymore doesn’t mean that as a society, we should abandon her to the clutches of a city that will, eventually, eat her alive.

And why can’t she get a job? That’s what people really think, isn’t it? She must be choosy – she must be illiterate, she must be lazy. The thoughts aren’t spoken aloud, but one look at the press and you see the attitude to unemployed young people – the scroungers, the lazy, the entitled, the leeches. The dailymailification of our opinions means that we overlook the reality behind the tags we so easily give to those less fortunate than us. Kim was always at risk of becoming a a NEET, even though she was literate and intelligent – and someone missed it. Her family history marked her out, her mental health marked her out, her sexuality marked her out and most shockingly, in the 21^st century, her gender marked her out. The statistics show that for the past ten years, girls are much more likely to be NEET than boys.

Some people are sympathetic to the plight of the young without jobs. But asking them to put their money where their mouth is becomes a litmus test of their ability to truly empathise. A weekend job request is met with: “But, she’ll want a full time job eventually and we’ll have trained her up and then we’ll lose her to something else,” or “Is minimum wage going to really support her? She should try and get something that pays more.” All understandable – a small business cannot prop up the parts of society that are broken. If you are 20 and still looking to forge a career, there are very few options. Particularly if you are a woman. Apprenticeships are widely touted as the solution – anyone who has ever tried to get one will know that the competition for places is fierce and often not available outside of large cities.

There is a huge gap in government policy when it comes to slightly older NEETs. A sustainable and wide-ranging scheme to employ young people who are no longer 16 or 17 is absolutely essential. Some may argue that these schemes exist – and there are initiatives available to encourage youth employment. The problem comes when small businesses aren’t kept in the loop about the schemes – how many people actually know about youth employment schemes and the available funding? A straw poll of local businesses will give you that answer straight away. Is it not in our interest to heavily publicise these schemes? Do we not think we, as a society, will benefit from local businesses becoming more aware of the opportunities they could be providing for those aged between 16-24?

In the meantime, more and more young people slip through that net and become the forgotten generation whose only answer is to start fires in their own community and to steal trainers from sports shops. And then we disapprove. That’s when we start to notice.

Sir Michael Wilshaw and the 3pm Myth

This week, for the first time since school started three weeks ago, I left work for an appointment at 4pm.  On my way past the school gym, I could see members of staff running the table tennis club.  I said goodnight to members of staff on their way to epilepsy and anaphylaxis training.  I had to send apologies to another training session that was entirely relevant to me as a Sixth Form tutor.  The truth is, I felt ridiculously guilty – like I was doing something wrong by leaving so early.

Waking up to a Twitter storm this morning about this very issue – the hours teachers work and how that relates to how effective they are – was a remarkable coincidence.  Sir Michael Wilshaw, in an interview with The Times, apparently stated that teachers who leave at 3pm should be paid less than those who work longer hours.  According to the BBC report, “inspectors would mark down schools which increased the pay of teachers who were ‘out the gate at 3 o’clock’”.  The reign of Sir Michael thus far has been peppered with controversy – this is a man who likes to make strong statements and to watch the reaction.  He is, as a dear Twitter friend put it, “the man who kicked the hornet’s nest”.  The hornets are agitated and yet again, despite perhaps noble intentions, Sir Michael has succeeded in further alienating the teaching workforce.

As much as I am tempted to launch into a fully-fledged tirade against such tomfoolery, I understand the need for the issues to be unpicked.  The “3pm” myth is a long-standing one; teachers apparently work from 9am to 3pm and have ridiculous amounts of holiday.  If people want to believe this myth, they will and no amount of hand-wringing on my part is going to change that fact.  I can only hope that if someone genuinely wants to know what the working life of a teacher is like, they will attempt to walk a mile in the shoes of a real teacher.  Another facet of the 3pm myth that is often overlooked is the idea that people who leave early are somehow less effective than those who don’t.  In the last ten years, I have been fortunate to work with highly-effective people.  I did not measure their effectiveness on the hours they worked.  I knew them as individuals, with children, or appointments, or outside interests and hobbies.  I also knew they were reliable, regardless of the time they left the school building.  I often admired those who could leave early – my own working habits meant that I was often inefficient and needed to learn to work smarter, not harder.  I have started to understand that concept now, ten years on.

The advice I give now to trainee teachers is to find the work pattern that suits them – I have seen trainees work themselves into the ground because they have felt the pressure to stay late, instead of going home, having a hot bath and a good dinner – and spending time with loved ones.  What is the point of me giving that advice when it seems that pay might be related to the presenteeism part of performance?

The article seems to suggest that Ofsted may punish schools that allow staff to maintain, in some way, shape or form, a work-life balance.  This seems ludicrous on many levels.  Not only does it counter the advice teachers are given to motivate children, it ignores the basics of human motivation.  Simply telling people to work harder and for longer does not mean that they will want to.  They won’t work longer hours, even if their pay is performance related because most teachers now recognise the adverse effects of long hours during the week and weekends truncated by marking and planning – most teachers know that there needs to be some respite somewhere.  The assumption that if you leave early – perhaps because you have childcare commitments, perhaps because you are a carer, perhaps because you know you work better in the evenings at home – it means that somehow you are not committed to addressing educational disadvantage, is fundamentally flawed.  The BBC article goes on to say that “Sir Michael also said any teacher who did not wish to act as a surrogate parent in poor areas to pupils who lacked support at home did not deserve a salary increase.”  If you take the childcare argument, Sir Michael suddenly seems to be creating a strange contradictory situation in which parents who are teachers in inner-city schools should leave their own children with another so that a) they can afford to look after their own children and b) so that they can act as a “surrogate” to someone else’s child.

I work in an inner-city academy.  The staff are more than aware of the need to act as “surrogate” parents – for the whole day, not just in those hours after school.  What delights me about my colleagues is the recognition that acting as surrogate parents does not create a long-term solution to a problem – community education, parental involvement and facilitating parents’ taking of responsibility as just as important.  Our staff room debates are illuminating and powerful.

To go back to the point, if, as some have suggested, the “3pm” comment is a ‘caricature’ and not to be taken literally, then I question the wisdom of the man who chooses to use it.  A good leader can look out across his workforce and influence change without grossly offending individuals, because he recognises that they are individuals.  A good leader recognises that working on intrinsic motivation is much more likely to lead to positive outcomes than dangling the carrot of extrinsic motivation.  I’m pretty certain it is an established fact that whipping your workforce to make them work faster and harder may work in the moment, but that it breeds resentment and the possibility of mass exodus.

Others have argued that Wilshaw’s latest comments are merely a reiteration of changes to the appraisal system.  Again, the foolishness of publicly associating performance with a ‘caricature’ of the early-leaving teacher means that the real point disappears.  Schools have to reward those who work hard and not reward those who don’t.  Unfortunately, generalising about whether this happens is entirely unhelpful to his case.  By saying “In last year’s report, we said that 40% of lessons overall were not good enough. And yet everyone is getting a pay rise. Hey! Something is wrong with the system”, he accuses senior leadership teams of wilfully ignoring poor performance.  Language is a powerful thing and one that every leader should use carefully.  Is “everyone” getting a pay rise?  As someone on the Upper Pay Scale, I know that I had to meet all of my performance management targets and then some, in order to get on to UPS1.  I will have to do the same this year.  I also know people who have been turned down for progression on to that pay scale, not because they left work too early, but because they didn’t meet their targets.  The targets were reset and they had to try again.

I do wonder whether the general perception of teachers in this country is informed largely by three main sources: Grange Hill, Teachers and Waterloo Road.  It would be a real shame, when the profession has moved on from elbow patches, donkeys in corridors and smoking behind the bikesheds whilst discussing a workplace romance, to see that undone by the constant barrage of generalisation about the way teachers perform.  Today’s comments only serve to reinforce negative stereotypes of teachers – and the media will report them as such – and this is something Sir Michael Wilshaw needs to be much more aware of.  Or even care more about.

Leading a Department for the First Time: Advice through Bad Metaphors

You lucky, lucky people. If you have been appointed as a Head of Department, you will of course be looking forward to starting your journey towards changing the lives of myriad young people through your chosen subject. And what a journey that is going to be! I’m not even being sarcastic, folks.

If you’re anything like me when I was poised to start as a head of department, you probably believe that it will be a journey akin to those seen on the big screen. In your head, you are Frodo with the ring, you feel an uncanny affinity with Dorothy on her Yellow Brick Road and you ‘get’ Odysseus and his quest deep down inside. Realistically, at different times, you will be all of those characters, but for the majority of the time, you may end up channelling Chevy Chase in a National Lampoon movie.

Being a head of department is one thing; being an outstanding one requires the ability to balance the everyday with the long-term, whilst fielding the various demands on your time effectively. You will find your attention pulled in so many directions that you start to feel that you aren’t a good teacher anymore, that your own pupils are getting a raw deal. That fades after a while, when you start to become more comfortable with the role and start to manage your time so that you’re not fire-fighting, you are ahead of yourself. How you get to that point is the important bit.

There is a wealth of material that will provide insight into what it means to be a middle leader. Reading round the job is a good idea, even if it is to disagree and know that you will do something differently. A good source of research into the role can be found in ‘The Role and Purpose of Middle Leaders in Schools’ (2003). It dips into research about primary and secondary middle leadership, as well as middle leadership in further education. The advice below is not scientifically measured, and you’ll probably find similar advice from many different sources. To save you the job of having to dig up material in the next few days, I’ve noted down the key things that I wish I had been told before I started in my role. I apologise for the ridiculous metaphors in advance.

Decide on your philosophy and use your influence to make it real

Some people say that it is a good idea to develop a philosophy about how your subject should be taught in a department meeting with everyone present and in consensus. This almost never happens because the vision cannot be arrived at by committee. Inevitably, compromise and dilution means that the direction shifts and it is easy for all to become dissatisfied.

The direction and philosophy of your department comes from you and you are its biggest force. Decide what you want your department to look like and be the rising tide. Even if there isn’t buy-in at the start, it comes when people start to realise that your ideas and your approach works. Of course, temper your ideas by putting yourself in the place of your team – sometimes a rising tide can just drown people. And that wouldn’t be a good thing in your first post. You should aim to ensure that your ideas are as visible as they can be – sell the philosophy to staff and students alike through display, through handbooks, through web material, through communication home. It will give your department a distinct identity and you’ll be surprised at how grateful people are to know where you stand when it comes to your subject.

Get out of the bunker because you are not the cog, you’re the wheel

The vortex that is the day-to-day leading of a department can suck you in and place you far away from the important aspects of your new job. If you retreat into that bunker, you may forget that your department is one of many propping up the whole school. Your numbers count, the staff you lead are deployed around the school in various roles – this means you need to place yourself clearly at the top of the tree. When you are told what the improvement plans are in briefing or on the INSET days, don’t just jot them down or glance at the accompanying sheet – note down how you and your department can help to achieve those whole school goals. No matter how big or small your department, you help to create the public perception of it through your results and through your interactions with parents and the local community. Make the effort to get out from below the canopy regularly – it will give you an insight into what you need to do next. Then talk to people about how you can be part of the whole.

Find your foot soldiers

John Donne’s ‘No Man is an Island’ is surprisingly appropriate reading for a new head of department. Not only does it cover the ideas in my point about being part of the whole school, it tells us that we need to delegate. You may already know who your foot soldiers are – if you don’t, make it your business to find out. Behind every good head of department you will usually find one or two dedicated foot soldiers who are capable and have steady hands. I find that they are often two or three years in, without any additional responsibility and they, not you, are the rock on which this department is built. Developing a strong and trusting relationship with your foot soldiers is rewarding for both parties – on one hand, you will find that you can delegate without worrying that things won’t get done and on the other, you will be working towards preparing those team members for further, more established responsibilities. You have to be the person who not only sells the vision, but also the one who sells your team members. Think of yourself as a career pimp.

Talk about impact and actually mean it

Your line management meetings and meetings with the head, if you have them, should be focused on one core thing: impact. Frame your discussions about what your department is doing and plans to do using that word. Impact. The impact of this intervention will be X, the impact on parental engagement will be X, the impact of developing this staff member will be X. It’s really obvious when someone uses that word in their discussions about what they’re doing in the department and they are using it because they think they should. Think about impact as the thread that runs through your plans – it’s the thin, red line. I find it helps imaging a red line through my middle of my head. I go back to the red line when plans have become nebulous. That may just be me, though, so don’t feel the need to do the same!

Find your inner benevolent dictator

Placing yourself as a head of department is hard at the start because you’re used to being in the mix. To a certain extent, you have to shift your thinking significantly. Without wanting to sound harsh, you are in charge and so if you don’t get invited to the pub straight away, there’s a reason for that. When you do get invited (and you will), it will probably because you’ve earned the trust of your team by being the best benevolent dictator around. You know what you want and you expect it to be done – when it is, you defend and promote that team until you are blue in the face. Getting frustrated when things aren’t done doesn’t mean ditching the ‘benevolent’ part of your new title. Sometimes, not having the ‘big chat’ straight away with someone who has made a mistake or not done something is best. Show that you trust them to make it better – actually saying that without sounding like an idiot is quite a feat though. When you have earned the trust, you can make it loud and clear what you expect and not be afraid that people won’t respond. When you are given an affectionate dictator nickname, you’ll know you’ve made it to the right place.

Be down with the moving and shaking

You don’t need to manage leading a department with doing a Masters, or attending lots of different courses – but you do need to be the expert in developments in your subject. Using Twitter and online education fora are quick and easy ways to stay abreast of the important aspects of your subject. The ukedchat hashtag on Twitter throws up pedagogical gems – have you heard of SOLO, or flipped classrooms? Do you know how your subject is taught in private education, in charter schools, or in Finland? If anything, joining networks means that you get different perspectives on what you are doing. Learning about the moving and shaking earns respect, especially when you apply what you have learned successfully in your own department. Beware – using Twitter to fuel your department plans can be a bit like trying on too many clothes at once. You look like a washing basket, you’re all sweaty and people will look at you funny. One item at time, people.

All that is left to say is good luck! Before I sign off, I just want to go back to that journey analogy – okay, you may feel a lot like Chevy Chase in a National Lampoon movie. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. Have you ever seen a National Lampoon movie that didn’t have a heartwarming ending?