Do we really need the Chartered College of Teaching?

My edu-Twitter feed is currently a hive of posts about the forthcoming elections to the Chartered College of Teaching, which was set up to be a teacher-led organisation but now looks like it will be anything but teacher-led. The discussion has been spearheaded by Andrew Old’s recent blog (entitled “I was wrong about the Chartered College Of Teaching. It’s worse than I thought it would be”), as well as this blog from Greg Ashman and this thread from Michael Fordham.

From the looks of it, influential and already powerful people within the education establishment will have their voices amplified even more via this new organisation (which as I understand, has failed to recruit the expected numbers of teachers to its membership). Now, I have only worked in schools for the past three years, and been on educational Twitter approximately the same amount of time, but one thing I have noticed is the enormous amount of push-back and gatekeeping from an establishment keen on maintaining orthodoxy and silencing dissenting voices. Andrew Old summed it up nicely in this Twitter post:

I don’t particularly want to use this blog to add much to the discussion on the Chartered College of Teaching and how it’s run. My main focus in writing this is to investigate the question: do we really need it? I still struggle to get my head around why our cash-strapped government needs to spend millions of pounds on a new organisation for teachers. I’m told it is to develop the professionalism of teachers, by providing them with access to research and high quality CPD, as well as the all important certification of becoming a ‘Chartered Teacher’. This will, it is argued, provide a career path for teachers to rise within their profession.

Now, if you’ve been on this earth as long as I have, perhaps you too might be a little sceptical about certification as a way of guaranteeing quality. Just because someone holds an impressive looking certificate, and adds a few more letters after their name, doesn’t really mean that this person is any better at their job than someone without such accoutrements. Similarly, we all know that just because a school has been rated ‘Outstanding’ by Ofsted doesn’t really mean that the school is actually outstanding. These are often arbitrary judgements, made by people who are as prone to bias as anyone else. More often than not, such accolades are simply proof that said school or said professional has jumped through the requisite hoops, said and done the right kind of things to appear to be outstanding.

If the primary aim of the Chartered College of Teaching is to provide teachers with research and CPD, then here too I would question the need for this to be done via a well funded organisation. Opportunities for high quality CPD are plentiful without having to pay the rather steep price of membership. Just going on edu-Twitter, connecting with other teachers and reading blogs or articles they share, is a free and easy way to improve your practice. There are also many grassroot teacher conferences out there, such as ResearchEd, NorthernRocks, and BrewEd – to name just a few – providing teachers with a forum to share best practice. Some Multi-Academy Trusts also provide competitively priced CPD sessions in which they share good practice with other teachers and school leaders (I’m thinking here of Inspiration Trust, which has run some very interesting courses recently). So there’s plenty out there for the reflective teachers wanting to improve what they do.

I would argue that the best way to enhance the professionalism of teachers is to actually let them get on with their job and:

  • teach in classrooms where good behaviour is the default;
  • not bog them down with pointless paperwork;
  • trust teachers to do their job instead of micro-managing them;
  • provide them with opportunities to visit other schools and network with other professionals;
  • and, most critically, good leaders in their school, that set the right culture for the teachers to improve.

The amount of money that is spent in education on things that do not actually feed down to helping students improve is mind boggling. Organisations with large amounts of funding inevitably become bureaucratic beasts and vulnerable to takeover by the ‘established elites’. Do we really need this? I leave the last word to Mr. Blachford, who is a supporter of the CCT but concerned about the influence of non-teachers on the profession:

The Teacher Gap

I have just finished reading ‘The Teacher Gap‘ by Rebecca Allen and Sam Sims, an important book in the educational lexicon which should, in my view, be essential reading for all stakeholders in schools – heads, middle leaders, teachers, governors and even interested parents. Not forgetting, of course, policy makers in government.

I read it with mixed feelings, because it spoke so eloquently about my recent experience, even though it wasn’t, of course, about me specifically. For anyone who doesn’t know my history, I enrolled on a school based ITT course (training as a history teacher) last September but bailed out a few months later for various reasons, many of which are explained very well in the book. I read this passage with a dawning understanding of my predicament:

Even worse, because it is the low performing and disadvantaged schools that suffer from staffing shortages, the schools with the strongest incentives to take on trainees are often not those that are best placed to support them. High performing schools with excellent working conditions generally have less need to recruit new teachers. As a result, those schools with the greatest strength and stability to deliver training experiences are often not the institutions who are incentivised to do so.

It goes a long way towards explaining the dearth of high quality history teacher training positions in my area. To remedy this situation, the authors recommend two things:

  • Create an institution that can collect accurate information on which schools have the capability to provide high quality training placements. [I’d be interested to see how this could be done without some schools ‘gaming the system’. Also, in this crowded institutional landscape, do we really need to add a new institution, rather than enhance the remit of an existing institution?]
  • Provide funding for reluctant schools to train novice teachers.

Another of the problems highlighted with teacher training in the book is that it is far too ‘front-loaded’, which can be overwhelming for new teachers. Novices are expected to learn everything there is to know about teaching in the first two years, after which no further formal training is required of them. This doesn’t give them time for deliberate practice and mastery of different aspects of teaching. Very often, new teachers are having to plan a whole career’s worth of lesson plans in the space of one year. It’s suggested that schools should support novice teachers by providing them with lesson plans prepared by experienced colleagues and ensure that mentors give non-judgemental support, and act as genuine role models rather than just going through the motions and doing the paperwork. Also, the training teachers should be allocated their own classroom, even if it means the head of department goes without (wouldn’t I have loved that!)

These are all things that can be done by schools without waiting for policy makers. However, policy too could be changed to tackle that front-loading aspect of teacher training. The authors advocate a system whereby it takes two years for a teacher to obtain a diploma, and then a further four years of practice before they obtain their full teaching qualification, all the while receiving support and coaching. In this way, novice teachers would have the space to master their craft in a supportive environment rather than being cast out to sink or swim.

These are all sensible, if expensive, proposals. However, in my view, they fail to take into account two things. Firstly, the elephant in the room that is behaviour. The book touches on this issue but doesn’t delve into it far enough. This is a shame, as I think poor behaviour in schools is one of the most critical issues in teacher recruitment and teacher retention. New teachers wanting to engage in deliberate practice of different aspects of teaching – which is what they need to do to become expert –  are often compelled to put all their focus on managing behaviour. If we want teachers to develop their teaching, then they need the space to teach without constantly having to fire-fight disruption in their classroom. I would suggest that an important part of the capability judgement on whether a school is suitable to train new teachers or not, is the quality of the behaviour systems in place. As a minimum, new teachers (and experienced ones too for that matter) should not be running their own detentions. School leadership should be visible and proactive in ensuring good behaviour is maintained.

The second thing is that it’s all well and good to advocate extensive coaching and mentoring over the course of several years, but this only works if the quality of the coaching is good to start with. I believe there is a deficit of expert people who can help develop good teachers. There are pockets of excellence here and there, but country-wide and system-wide that is not enough. Novice teachers to this day are being taught about learning styles on some ITT courses. There is also a structural bias towards teaching constructivist pedagogy (particularly in the university-based PGCEs), where didactic teaching from the front is frowned upon. How many ITT courses I wonder are introducing their trainees to Rosenshine’s principles of instruction, or discussing the merits of explicit instruction versus inquiry learning? There was an interesting Twitter thread not long ago discussing things people had been taught on their PGCEs which they now realise were wrong. This prompted a prominent academic to censure them for slagging off their courses. In my experience, that type of push back, or gatekeeping, is fairly common and symptomatic of that constructivist or ‘progressive’ bias when it is challenged.

The Teacher Gap also discusses other factors which are contributing to the exodus of teachers from the profession. Workload, lack of autonomy and the audit culture in schools are laid bare for the chimera that they are – none of these measures (which have made teachers’ lives much less tolerable) have improved outcomes for students. The message is clear. Restore trust in teachers, and manage out the minority that can’t cope without being audited to extremes. The collateral damage of trying to micro-manage this minority of under-performing teachers is killing the profession. This book should be a massive eye opener for school leaders vested in their tracking systems, or book scrutinies or data drops. I wonder though how many of them are self reflective enough to digest this message?

 

 

 

 

The erosion of knowledge

I watched an interesting video clip yesterday, kindly shared on Twitter by Martin Robinson, of an interview with Roger Scruton. It’s long (about 52 minutes altogether), but well worth the time if you can spare it. I had of course heard of Roger Scruton – mainly through people tweeting soundbites of things he has said – but I had never heard him speak before. The interviewer in this clip (an academic from Berkeley University) commits the cardinal sin of talking more than the person he’s interviewing, but the result is that it feels more like a conversation than an interview.

Why am I writing a blog about it? I’m not entirely sure, but maybe it will become clear as I write. There’s a moment around 23 minutes into the interview, where Roger Scruton discusses the importance of teaching grammar at school and his experience, coming from a poor background, of going to grammar school. He compared the approach taken by his teachers then with what is happening in schools today:

“our teachers as their first instinct when they found you were handicapped by the language that you’d learned from your parents was to take you in hand, give you the advantage which your family had not, so that you could catch up with the others. I think that idea of teaching, that you’re actually lifting people up, so as to be able to receive their inheritance, that idea has gone to a great extent. It’s much more now that the teacher comes down to the level of the student.”

I was struck by the truth of this observation. Of course, this is not the case in all schools. There are some wonderful teachers and leaders in this country, determined to give their students, no matter how disadvantaged their background, the knowledge and skills to be able to accesss our shared cultural inheritance and to join that great conversation of mankind that has been going on through the ages. But they are a minority. Overall, my experience of working in a variety of schools the past three years, has been an inexorable dumbing down of content in order to make the curriculum more accessible and engaging to students.

In this context, I think the idea of a personalised curriculum, where what is taught is more dependent on who the student is and what level of attainment he or she has reached rather than on an ambitious curriculum for all, has been corrosive for our education system. I remember some years ago working as an LSA in a year 7 class, and the set text in English one term was “Terror Kid“, a novel by Benjamin Zephaniah. I can see that the book ticked a lot of boxes, written by someone from the same Afro-Carribbean community as the majority of the students and dealing with the subject of violence and terrorism, very on message with the whole ‘Prevent’ strategy. The fact that the book contains an implausible plot, stereotypical tropes and, worst of all, pedestrian prose, is conveniently overlooked. I can think of no clearer example of teaching being brought down to the level of the students, rather than aiming to lift them up, and I can almost guarantee that no independent school in this country teaches that book (I could be wrong, correct me if I am).

Now, I’m not particularly intellectual. I must admit to spending a large part of my youth reading Mills & Boon type novels (though I also devoured ‘War and Peace’ in less than a week). I still feel a little intimidated in conversations with people who obviously know much more than I do. For example, I’ve had several illuminating Twitter chats with The Grumpy Teacher, an anonymous history teacher, where I’ve felt a little out of my depth but gained fresh insights about the Feudal System, among other things. When I decided to get into teaching, I had great hopes that my staff room would be full of Grumpy Teachers, from whom I could absorb, osmosis style, knowledge and erudition. So it has been a particular disappointment that often – and I have no wish to blow my own trumpet here – I have found myself to be the most intellectual person in the room.

This, I feel, has been the single biggest crime perpetrated by the progressive, constructivist posse on education today. I wonder how many excellent and knowledgeable teachers have been driven out of the profession over the last few decades, because what they had to offer – knowledge – was no longer valued.

 

Adventures as a Supply Cover

I had an experience yesterday which made me want to write another blog. These last few weeks, I’ve been doing some supply work as a way of earning a bit of extra cash before I start my new job in September. I’ve worked as cover in both secondary and primary London schools, and while the experience has been valuable and informative, I’m glad it’s coming to an end.

There seems to be signicantly more demand for supply cover in certain kinds of schools, the ones with high rates of absenteeism because the working conditions are less than good. The ones with poor behaviour. My first supply job was actually rather pleasant, lulling me into a false sense of optimism. “This is easy money”, I thought at the end of that first day. Not so now. Some jobs were one off days, others were several days in a row, and others were regular repeats. So when I got the call yesterday morning to say, there’s a job at __ primary for a one-to-one with a SEN student, I knew exactly which one it was. Off I went, signed in with the receptionist who knew me well by now and went to see the SENCO. “You’ll be one-to-one with S”, she said to me apologetically. “He didn’t come in yesterday, so if he doesn’t come today, I’ll put you somewhere nice”. I got the sense that everyone was rather hoping this boy didn’t turn up. Of course, he did come.

As far as I can tell, this student never actually sits in class with the rest of his cohort. He is taken out to do one-to-one work, for which he is rewarded with “choosing time”, a euphemism for time playing on the laptop. Last time I worked with him, that’s what he did for pretty much the whole day, apart from running off a few times, and making me chase him around the school and the playground. The class teacher handed me some books and worksheets for him to complete, without any great hope that he would do them. After a half hour of him acting up (basically lying down under a table and moaning that he wanted his usual TA, not the supply), he got what he wanted: the laptop (after which the moaning stopped). Immediately, the latest video game ‘Fortnite’ came on, while I shrugged internally and picked up a book to read. I tried every so often to remind him of the work he was supposed to do, and eventually he promised to do it after morning break. As it happens, there was a PE lesson after break, which he was allowed to take part in since he had been so quiet all morning (laptop time can work wonders that way).

So anyway, I come back after lunch and remind him of his promise to do some work. Quick as a flash, he’s off to hide under a table and have another of his tantrums. One of the school staff comes over to him and coaxes him out. “I don’t want her”, he says, pointing to me. “She’s evil, I hate her.” Some time is spent talking to him and calming him down. No attempt is made to get him to apologise to me. Then I’m left with him again. I pick up my book and sit down to read. As far as I’m concerned, he can spend the rest of the day on that dratted computer. But no, he gets up and decides to go for a walkabout, so of course I follow. “Don’t follow me”, he snaps.

“I have to, it’s my job to supervise you”, I reply.

“Then I’m going to see Ms M” (the head teacher).

He runs down the stairs and I follow at a more sedate pace. I reach the head teacher’s door and look up through the glass to see him inside her office. Satisfied that he’s where he should be, I find myself a seat outside her office and wait to see the outcome of this chat with the head. Ten minutes later, I see the boy beckoning me through the window. I go into the head teacher’s office. She smiles at me and says “S will spend the rest of the day in my office but he needs his laptop. Would you mind going to fetch it for him?” I put a gracious smile on my face and say “of course”, and trudge up two flights of stairs to go fetch the laptop. When I bring it back, no words of thanks from the boy. The head teacher is the one who does the thanking, then asks me to re-join the class.

Back up two flights of stairs I go, but half the class has gone off for a transition day at their new secondary and I’m not needed. With an hour to kill until home time, I walk a few doors down and poke my head into a year 4 class. The frazzled teacher there welcomes an extra helping hand so I settle in for the rest of the day. It immediately becomes clear why the poor teacher is frazzled. Behaviour. I spot a boy in the corner dancing a little jig to entertain his classmates, and loudly talking over the teacher. He also seems to be the only child in the class to have a laptop open in front of him, playing some video game. Quelle surprise. The worst behaved child is given a laptop (I find out later it was a reward for having behaved in the morning).

And so, after an hour in that rowdy, disorganised classroom, I finally went home, breathing a sigh of relief. I’m not planning to go back to that school again, no matter how many coaxing phone calls I get from the agency. In fact, I think this is the end of the road for me as a supply cover. Life’s too short and the sunshine is beckoning me, telling me to start my holiday a little bit sooner. Before I head out into the garden for a bit of R and R, I’ll leave you with one last thought. That school was rated ‘Outstanding’ by Ofsted.