The Scottish Association for the Teaching of English held a seminar last Wednesday, in association with The University of Strathclyde. Simon Gibbons and Bethan Marshall, from King’s Colege London, had a lot to say that was very pertinent to the introduction if standards testing in Scotland. Their conclusion – evidence suggests it does little to close the ‘attainment gap’. Check out the SATE blog for a report (coming soon) and other news.
Here’s my Introduction to the seminar; my views, not the views of SATE or Strathclyde!
‘There’s never been a more appropriate time for Scottish teachers of English to join a strong subject association. I’m in the middle of interviewing next year’s applicants for PGDE, and I think every year since 2001, I’ve told them that this is a time of great change in Scottish education; this year, that is true more than ever, and as I approach perhaps not the sunset of my career, but definitely the twilight, I don’t think I have ever been less optimistic about the future.
There are good things on the horizon, to be sure. If PRD is as supportive as it is said to be, teachers will have a real structure in which to plan their own professional development. As English teachers, membership of NATE offers access to the latest research and classroom practice, as well as resources, and is tailor made for the PRD process. Social media, Teach Meets and Pedagoo mean that teachers are coming together to cater for their own development needs, plugging the gaps in CPD that denuded budgets and the loss of curriculum advisers have allowed to develop, and NATE offers an umbrella under which we can all shelter and share. These, then, are exciting times for teachers who are doing it for themselves, and the one huge improvement I’ve seen over my fifteen years in teacher education is how the professional knowledge and skills of teachers has grown, almost exponentially. When I left Jordanhill College, I knew on average it would take about 8 years to be promoted; I now see my students achieving promoted status with two or three years, and I have no doubt that they are absolutely ready for it.
But there are dark forces gathering in Scottish education that seek to change it irrevocably. Because of our proudly independent system, we tend to feel that we are cushioned against the worst excesses of the wider world, excesses that have been chillingly demonstrated by the Westminster Government’s ideological obsession with taking all schools out of local authority control, to be managed centrally by government and locally by a patchwork of individual school boards, interest groups and private enterprises. The disingenuous rhetoric in which those ideas are framed– ‘choice’, ‘parental voice’, ‘flexibility’ – masks what is fundamentally an economic driver behind reform.
In New Orleans, Hurricane Katrina destroyed all but 15 of its 168 publicly funded and controlled schools; in the aftermath of the disaster, the whole school system was privatised, every child went to a school publicly funded but managed for profit by private corporations. The vast majority of teachers were fired, most being replaced by deunionised Teach for America apprentice teachers teaching a denuded curriculum concentrated on a brutal testing regime that is cheap to teach but casts the most vulnerable into poverty and failure. For private enterprise, Katrina was not a tragedy; it was an opportunity.
It was also a crisis created by unprecedented natural events; but man can easily create crises, through underfunding and deregulation, crises in which a system is systematically and deliberately broken and then deemed to be irreparable by anything other than management from a supposedly more efficient private sector. It is this man-made disaster that is driving the move towards the privatisation – wrapped up in the educationally aspirational term ‘academisation’ – that George Osborne is building a large portion of the Budget around.
There is a much resistance to such moves in Scotland, where we are proud of our state funded, local authority managed comprehensive states system. It has served us well, for all its faults. But those forces which would dismantle that system are undoubtedly gathering, forces which range from groups of parents (usually middle class) rightly anxious about local school closures to influential think tanks to former highly paid public education executives who have slickly managed the transition to become champions of (and I quote) ‘increased economic prosperity and more effective public services based on the principles of limited government, diversity and personal responsibility.’ And in a world run by TTIP in which private corporations have the legal right to siphon off profitable parts of public services uninhibited by the democratic will of the people, education services and even individual schools may well find themselves being circled by some very ravenous wolves.
There is less resistance, however, to apprenticeship models of teacher training. Tom Hunter’s ‘exploration’ of Scottish education recently highlighted a successful academy in London, employing ‘Teach First’ teachers, described as ‘the very best graduates’, as if anyone not on such a scheme is somehow the underqualified dross of the teaching profession. The Scottish Government’s warm response – a sort of ‘if it works, we’ll do it’ common sense – suggests that they may well look at different models of teacher training. Let’s be clear, though. Apprenticeship models of teacher training work on exactly the same principles as your electricity supply. Power is brought to our homes from the same power stations, along the same cables, through the same substations; it is only when the envelope with the bill arrives that a multitude of companies clamour and compete for the right to charge us for that same electricity. Training providers – whether individual schools, local authorities or – most likely – private corporations – will still place student teachers in the same schools with the same mentors, still access the same university courses and tutors, will still employ the same accreditation bodies as ever. But with a product to now sell, with a contract to protect, with profits to enhance – what is the chance that the need to be ‘outstanding’ will (and I use the word advisedly but appropriately) trump the need to adhere to rigorous quality standards?
This is all going to happen, as sure as the sun rises and sets. After the Japanese earthquake, news outlets had panels of experts that included earthquake scientists, nuclear power station engineers and financial consultants, as if economic activity is as immutable and inevitable as tectonic plate shifts and radioactive meltdown. And, in the world we live in, it is. Neoliberalism will have its way.
But people can – should – speak out; otherwise, we will lose all that we value without a whimper. Whether it is on these global issues that threaten to swallow education as we know it, or whether it is on the – not unrelated – issues of the closure of school libraries, or the development of a vocational curriculum, or the place of Scottish culture and texts in our classrooms, or the reintroduction of national testing, English teachers can and should have a voice. For decades, that voice has been NATE, and we have two of its most influential members here tonight. I won’t say much about them, since most of you quoted Bethan Marshall in your last assignments on assessment and therefore know her work well. And when Conservative Home (The Home of Conservatives), a body deliciously unacquainted with the concept of tautology, describes Simon Gibbons as a ‘classic Leftist elitist’ who ‘uses impeccable standard English’, you know he’s worth listening to. That same august body said of NATE, ‘it’s time is up.’ That was four years ago. It would be nice to watch it grow in Scotland.’
I’ve had a very quiet blog recently because of pressures on my time (some very welcome, some not so) and because WordPress seems to be difficult to get into these days (I must check out my firewall settings, apparently, though why they have unilaterally decided to go wonky I haven’t a scooby).
July saw two very different major Scottish publications in which I’ve been included. First of all, “Lizard Isle”, a gentle fantasy story, has been included in Black Middens, New writing Scotland 31. It’s a major collection – over 300 pages of the best Scottish writing around – and I’m delighted to be included.
Just coming out from the printers too is the 4th edition of the seminal academic volume Scottish Education, edited by Tom Bryce, Walter Humes, Donald Gillies and Aileen Kennedy. Mine is a small contribution – one chapter out of a whopping one hundred and eleven – on “Ethos and behaviour in secondary schools”. I enjoyed writing it, and it’s a privilege to have been asked.
Unfortunately, neither will open the gateways to fame and fortune, but that’s never really the point, is it?
I had a good morning the other day doing in-service with English teachers from South Ayrshire on Persuasive Writing at Nat 4, 5 and Higher. It was organised by my friend Sally Law, PT English at Marr College, who has used some of the resources I wrote for Education Scotland last year and which can be found at http://www.educationscotland.gov.uk/resources/nq/e/englishpersuasivewriting/introduction.asp
Much like my Creative Writing materials published two or three years ago, the basic premise is that pupils need to engage regularly with reading that is designed to persuade them, and then regularly undertake writing tasks that allow them the opportunity to persuade others in a variety of contexts. English teachers always – always – tell pupils they should be reading a quality newspaper regularly. That’s good advice which very few pupils take up, and I suspect it’s because (a) they have no incentive to and (b) don’t know what to do with it when they do. Just reading an article doesn’t seem to have any explicit relevance to them; so, it’s important we do something with it that makes sense to them.
In the materials, there are sheets to support regular blogging and tweeting, two social networking contexts pupils will be well acquainted with. It’s very easy to set up a class blog or Twitter account, even given the ICT restrictions common in schools, but these can also easily be done with a pen and paper “Blog Wall” or “Tweet Space”.
So the groups started off with two articles I downloaded on topical issues. In half an hour, they read them, briefly thought about tone and editorial position, identified their own reaction and then constructed a 140 character tweet in response to what they’d read. I think this sort of quick reading and evaluating holistically is something pupils rarely do: for many of them, reading a non-fiction article is only ever about an agonising search for rhetorical questions or identifying good link phrases to answer some questions on it that are, at the end of the day, pretty random. The teachers seem to get stuck into it, and I manage to get three tweets out of six groups (you lot in the other groups, I’m still waiting! Remember – @raymondsoltyek). All in all, it’s an exercise that works really well, and many of them say they’ll be using the activity with their classes.
We then take a look at Numeracy in English. The Using Numbers to Persuade resource looks at what, to me, is key when considering how we integrate Numeracy into the English curriculum: that is, the interaction between numbers and words, and how we use language to express numbers for different purposes. Basically, it’s based on the premise that there are lies, damned lies and statistics. Pupils trawl the internet for stats to support their arguments, never really questioning how those stats are presented to them or what the agenda behind that presentation might be. Do they consider the difference between a statement that says that “barely half agree with X” and “a clear majority agree with X”, when the figure in both cases might be 51%? Can they interpret the difference in tone wrought by phrases such as “as much as a third”, “hardly a third”, “fully 30%” or “only 3 in ten”? I think this is where some really productive work can be done.
So the final task of the first session is to write press releases from different pressure groups on statistics issued to them. This, of course, allows us to investigate the whole notion of press releases and pressure groups, what they do and how they try to persuade us. Using the same statistics, they must argue that immigration controls should be eased or tightened up, they must argue prison sentences should be more lenient or more harsh, they must argue that clean air legislation isn’t doing enough or is moving too fast. It’s a difficult exercise that they find really challenging, but it can easily be adapted for less able groups. And the beauty of it is that, in a time of 24 hour news, it’s a real world exercise; a friend of mine from Glasgow Writers’ Group writes freelance, and she regularly has to come up with an article on something she knows nothing about in a matter of hours.
After a break, the groups look at three further resources, examining their use in providing formative feedback to exemplar essays in three areas: global structure, sectional structure and close structure. The resources on global structure are, I feel, the best in the package. Taking the lead from group discussion skills teaching, it looks at the Proposing – Refuting cycle as a means of structuring argument.
I think we sometimes pay too much attention to giving pupils rules and roles in group discussion, as if stipulating that everyone must take a turn or that Craig is the Chairperson and Jamie the Reporter somehow ensures that the pupils will then know how to discuss. Of course they absolutely don’t. What is necessary is that they acquire a metacognition of the behaviours exhibited in a discussion: that is, they are able to differentiate between those interventions where they propose an idea, where they question an idea, where they refute an idea. When they understand these behaviours, we can then help them build up a repertoire of language that enables them to engage in these behaviours; they know what to say when they build on a point, and how that differs from the language they would use to refute that point.
An analysis of a fantastic Naomi Klein article, “Looting with the lights on”, exemplifies the cycle used in writing. For those of you who don’t know Klein’s work, her breakthrough book, “No Logo”, is perfect to get young people furious about the way they are manipulated by the market and how their self-image is defined by advertising and branding. It’s brilliant. And if you want to read an excoriating analysis of capitalism’s use of war and disaster to extend its tentacles into every human being’s way of life, read “The Shock Doctrine”.
But of course, writing need not follow the cycle slavishly. The key here is that we build a sense of coherence in the pupils’ writing. I remember, to my shame, relying on a “make three points for, one point against” structure to teach persuasive writing. All that does is produce bitty, disconnected writing that is superficial and trite. Here, pupils are encouraged to think about the structural flow of an essay. Having made a point, what do they want to do next? Support it with further explanation? Build on it by introducing other ideas, facts or statistics? Question it by posing some problem scenario? Or refute it by making a convincing case for its inapplicability in certain situations? And if they refute the point, what then are they going to re-propose in its place? What happens is they begin to think about the progression of ideas throughout their writing, ensuring that there is cognitive linkage rather than just a surface level technical linkage. I think it’s extraordinarily powerful.
Having provided rich, formative feedback on the exemplar essays through the prism of the particular skills they examined, teachers then shared their feedback with each other. A couple observed that their feedback was very different but agreed this was a good thing. Rather than holistic – and probably sometimes quite anodyne – comments at the end of essays that amount to little more than ‘improve your structure’, the teachers found they were giving detailed and specific guidance: “This section might be improved by using an anecdote to illustrate your point”. It seemed to be a success.
Sally has offered to coordinate some feedback on the materials as the year progresses; that will be really interesting, and give me a real flavour of any tangible improvements that arise as a result of using these materials as they are meant to be used. In the meantime, if you’d like me to do a similar session for your school or authority, by all means e-mail me at email@example.com . Interestingly, a Geography teacher, Kenny (who was a former Educational Studies student of mine and who admits to kicking my shins at 5-a-side football) also comes along, and says he found a lot of it very relevant for the upper stages of Social Subjects. I’d love to investigate that, so by all means if you think persuasive techniques would help you deliver certain aspects of your SS courses, get in touch. Interdisciplinarity in action!
Last Friday, I spent the day working with groups of PGDE Primary students on poetry in the classroom; I had a lot of fun, and discussing creative writing pedagogy with Primary teachers was really enlightening for me.
I start from the premise that we kind of get poetry wrong in schools. Pupils’ experiences of it tends to be either for construction (“let’s all write an acrostic poem together”) or deconstruction (“let’s all highlight all the similes in the poem”), or a combination of both that, for example, uses deconstruction to elicit construction (“let’s all analyse the genre markers of the haiku, and then write one ourselves”). And while all of these types of activity are valuable and indeed essential to understanding poetry, it is, for me, quite a limited and sterile experience: poetry is something we do something with, something that generates work. Students – even English graduates looking to be English teachers – come with a great deal of anxiety about poetry, and that is, they say, down to their experiences of poetry at school.
And yet, why do we read poetry? Well, for enjoyment, of course. And I don’t think there’s enough of that, so we started each session with the students browsing through some poetry anthologies and magazines to find something they liked to read to the rest of their group. Then put it aside, because the worst thing we could do is to analyse it to death for the next three hours.
Having warmed up our poetry reading, we then warmed up our poetry writing with a quick poetry word wheel exercise, a simple resource of three concentric discs containing an adjective, a noun and a verb that provides a three word stimulus for a short poem. With “scientist”, “kind” and “eats”, I came up with“Working late, the scientist Fills his lab with sparks, eats Chinese food from a takeaway carton. Kind of tangy.”
For some unaccountable reason, I’m quite proud of that. However, some of the students’ responses were lovely: Heather, using “big”, “girl and “swims”, wrote“The girl swims slowly Big arcing movements of her arms Pulling her towards a warmer kind of peace.”
Catriona, using “empty”, “animal” and “hopes” thought of:“The dawn stretches empty over rooftops Below an animal limps across the road A dog? A cat? A fox? The sullen hopes of a city life are waking”
Poetry is stripped out of the curriculum, studied almost as a separate entity. I’m a great believer that the poetic sensibility should be embedded and integrated much more into the day to day work of the classroom, and that a poem is as much a way of recording knowledge as a report or a close reading test or a storyboard. To illustrate this, we spent some time looking at poems from Gerry Cambridge’s lovely poetry / photography / natural history collection “Nothing But Heather”. Cambridge’s poetry is gorgeous, but what is so striking about “Nothing But Heather” is the informative quality of the text. I remember looking at one of my favourites, “Chrysomelid Beetle Pollinating a Wild Orchid”, with a Fifth Year pupil, and she said she learned more about plant fertilisation from that poem than she learned in 5 weeks in Higher Biology. All the students particularly liked “Shore Crab”, which they could easily see themselves using with their classes: you can hear a musical version of it here, with Cambridge proving his Rennaisance Man credentials by playing a mean moothie.
So poetry, much more than simply being a form, also informs. We looked at typical Primary school topics, and brainstormed a wordbank. For example, with Vikings, we came up with:
Long ships Sails Shields Mead Sagas
Hats with horns Horned helmets Swords battle-axes Pigtails
Ginger beards Storm Fjords Fiery funerals
Gruel Seas France – Normandy
A technique I’ve used often with older poetry writers is close redrafting: you can read more about it in “Wind Them Up and Let Them Go: The Primacy of Stimulus in the Classroom”, an article I did for Writing in Education magazine a few years back. You can download a copy from the University of Strathclyde by clicking the link.
Basically, when we assess prose, we tend to mark it holistically, taking in an extended piece of writing and assessing it with broad brushstrokes such as “vary your sentence structure” or “avoid repetition”. It’s my feeling that this kind of assessment is inappropriate for poetry, since here the aim is to condense, distil. As a result, we need to do away with prepositions, conjunctions, articles, all the chaff that makes a piece of prose flow, because those are not the words that signify meaning to the poet.
So, we get the pupils to write three simple sentences from their word bank – something like
|Viking long ships sailed through stormy seas from their homes in the fjords to invade Scotland. They arrived on beaches in the north and battled the locals with their swords and axes. They told stories they called sagas about these events.|
Now, looking at this as prose, we’d probably never comment on the fact that the phrase “in their” is repeated, or that the word “they” is used three times, because we feel they are somehow “essential”. The poetic way, though, is to get rid of all those little words in red to strip us to the words that really mean something, the words that communicate the core idea. With a little beating and shaping, we can begin to mould something that looks like poetry:“Viking long ships Through stormy seas From fjord homes Invading Scotland Swords and axes For locals On beaches Sagas to be told.”
I’ve worked with teenage boys who love this way of building poetry, bit by bit, three sentence prose chunks developed into verses. Working with groups in a Primary classroom, you could have your very own Viking saga in less than half an hour.
So the poem becomes not a poem on its own, something seemingly independent of the rest of the curriculum, but becomes a quick, relatively easy way of providing another source of evidence of pupils’ understanding of a topic. In addition, unlike the passivity of a close reading, it demonstrates individuals’ ability to make choices about the language which means most to them from a topic, and their ability to manipulate that language to express something that is genuinely an individual response. Light bulbs seemed to be going on in the groups, thankfully. Now, the poetic way of handling language simply became another literacy skill in the arsenal.
And what poetry also does is combine the objective with the subjective. We looked at simple items that might be found on a nature walk – a dead autumn leaf, a pebble, a scrap of wool caught on a barbed wire fence – and brainstormed it with a simple “Objective / Subjective” column. After sharing and developing, the task was to write a short poem that contained at least two informative details and two emotional details. With a picture of a bird’s skull, I came up with:” A fragile piece Of weather bleached calcium It’s tiny brain cavity Empty sockets And beak All that is left Of what it once was A feathered, flighted beauty, Built for tearing flesh.”
Again, many of the students outdid me. Matthew wrote about a broken egg-shell:“On the ground broken, discarded A small cracked egg lies on its own once a house to a new walk of life. Or is it now dead? A defenceless lunch for creatures passing by.”
What Matthew was very clear about was that he had no idea when he came in that he would have been able to produce that in five minutes – and that is, I think, an extremely powerful message to keep giving children: five minutes ago, you had nothing. This poem didn’t exist. Now look at what you’ve done. That message has been hugely motivating for my pupils over the years. And it also encourages an increased quantity of writing: every student went out the door having done a lot, they had been busy, busy, busy. In classrooms, pupils will drag their feet for weeks over a big set piece essay; with five or ten minute poetry exercises slotted in here and there into their everyday activities, they actually produce a great deal
A final stimulus exercise using Farrow and Ball’s ludicrous paint colour range – Dead Salmon? Elephant’s Breath? – and some discussion about the possibilities of using the poetic form much more regularly in classrooms as a means of allowing children to respond to the topics they study wound up the sessions. I think they all got the message; that rather than “doing poems” as a box tick for the curriculum, divorced from the reality of the rest of their learning, poetry can be an everyday way to respond to experience. And in doing so, I reckon, that can only help develop a love of poetry that can last a long, long time.
Today the Jordanhill campus of the University of Strathclyde had an official closing event, though the buildings will remain open for a few weeks longer before staff move to the refurbished Lord Hope building in Cathedral Street. I had lots of work to do and so didn’t attend what was billed as a “celebration of Jordanhill”, but I’m quite sure the 400 people or so who did go heard some inspiring speeches and had a very nice buffet while listening to the jazz band.
Jordanhill has been one of Scotland’s key institutions over the last century or so. I’ve been working in teacher education there since 2001, and it’s the one job in education I always wanted to do and the one place in education I always wanted to work ever since my own training in 1982. In the short time I’ve been there, I have personally been responsible for the training of well over 200 English teachers, and my English section has trained about a thousand. The potential for having an impact on how children have been taught is enormous and hugely rewarding.
Factor in all Secondary subjects, Primary teaching, social work, community education and a whole host of other graduate, postgraduate and professional courses, and we’re talking of several hundred thousand people in the history of the place who comprise a web of interconnectivity across Scotland and the world that is huge. So, despite the fact that most of what is still done there will be transferred to a new beginning on the city centre campus, there is a sense of the closure of an iconic part of education and the end of an era.
The process has taken some time, ever since proposals to build a brand new, £50 million “bespoke “city centre Education Faculty building with offices and state of the art teaching space were mooted in the mid 2000s. Times and priorities have changed since then. The Hope building houses accommodation for the School of Education staff to work side by side with many of the other subjects that have been subsumed into the Humanities and Social Sciences Faculty in integrated working environments: teaching accommodation for the influx of the additional students is provided by the existing city centre campus stock. However, we are almost there now. I’m looking forward to meeting and working with people we have been dislocated from for so long, and having access to the facilities of the city centre; I’m also looking forward to the undoubted fun I’ll have delivering my annual Behaviour Management lectures in the Cineworld cinema complex!
As for the old campus: well, it seems it will be mothballed until the University can sell it to private developers, a transaction that will help finance the University’s ambitious aspirations to create a “leading international technological university” with a new £89 million “flagship” Technology and Innovation Centre. Most of the existing buildings will be bulldozed I imagine, but I’m sure the grand old lady that is The David Stow building, along with perhaps the beautiful red brick student accommodation, will be retained, possibly for development as luxury flats. It’ll be a pity that I’ll never be able to afford one of them – I reckon they’ll be out of reach of all educational professionals below Directors of Education or University Principals – because it would be lovely to live in a place that has had such an important influence on my life and my career.
Of course, the University of Strathclyde will continue to provide the very best teacher education you can find. You can find out about the School of Education and the courses it offers here:
Last autumn, I was contracted by the then Learning and Teaching Scotland to create support materials for the development of persuasive writing for the new National Qualifications courses in English.
Designed in much the same way as the materials I produced in 2010 to support creative writing for the Higher folio, these materials support writing as an ongoing process throughout a course. Teachers can pick and choose the PowerPoint lessons as and when they wish to reinforce work that is going on in the class. There are also regular activities to be done as lesson starters or homework, such a tweet sheets or blogging tasks.
I hope you find them useful. They can be downloaded, saved and adapted as you see fit and as topicality demands. They can be found here.
Since LTS was subsumed into the new Education Scotland body, the web address for the creative writing materials has moved. You can now find and download the materials, including videos of authors talking about creative writing, here:
Had an interesting day at the annual STEC conference. Highlight for me was the opening keynote, delivered by Tara Fenwick of the University of Stirling. Looking at the issue of teacher education with an “outsider’s” point of view – she’s Canadian, and had worked mostly in workplace research rather than teaching per se – she looked at the issue from the perspective of globalisation, with trends in the blurring of boundaries, conflicts over territory, authority and rights and mobility and migration which characterise the global flows that present us with new challenges. She posed various questions: why prepare teachers only for school when most will end up in some other form of education job at some point in their lives?; what do we do to counter the damaging stereotypes of teachers as, for example, hero-rescuers or healers which limit the ability to respond to a variety of contexts? ; how do we prepare true professionalism, which often works between the codified criteria of “professionalism” imposed by an accountability culture?; why on earth do we flog Kolb’s learning cycle to death?
She presented a far-sighted vision of what we can do that was really refreshing; I couldn’t help wondering, though, where, in our current bureaucracy, the leadership for such a vision was going to be found.
The rest of the day was fairly predictable. Graham Donaldson spoke to his recent report, a document in which a lot of sense is talked. However, he still persists in some of the old prejudices about the way teacher trainers do their job. For instance, he keeps saying that schools need a central role in the assessment of student teachers when they already have that role: students spend half of their time in schools, where they should be exposed to high quality formative feedback and clear assessment of strengths mapped on to the Standard for Initial Teacher Education (SITE) benchmarks, and where they should receive a detailed report that is at least as important as university tutors’ assessments. Whether or not they are doing it well enough is the real issue.
In addition, he parroted an insult I have heard from senior academics about university tutors “tootling” around the country to visit their students. Our own research into this clearly indicates that students value this visit more highly than any other feedback they get while on placement, and I suspect schools want us to visit more, not less. I’m all for finding ways of communicating better with students, but I haven’t seen an improvement on the present system yet, because most alternatives are driven not by pedagogical reasoning but by a cost-cutting university-driven agenda which has little sympathy for professional education courses or for what the paying students want.
The day finished up with some words of wisdom from a panel of the great and good, though there were worrying signs of the Newspeak flimflam so beloved of a cynical managerialist culture. For instance, I am all for the re-accreditation of teachers; everyone (including me) should be regularly assessed to ensure we haven’t become obstructive, lazy and ineffectual, and we do the greatest harm to education when we allow incompetent teachers to remain in the profession. However, even given that, it worries me when we are invited to view re-accreditation as a teacher’s “entitlement”. We are entitled to a pension scheme, to holidays, to sick pay; to say we are also “entitled” to have our competence assessed is simply disingenuous, especially when that assessment brings with it no “entitlement” to bonuses, promotion or other forms of professional recognition. Let’s call it for what it is; dressing it up as something it is so patently not will only create suspicion and resentment.
Similarly, the phrase “reinvigorating professionalism” seems to me to be a non-sequitur. Isn’t professionalism always vigorous? If the powers that be believe that teaching needs to be reinvigorated so regularly (McCrone, anyone?), can it really be called a profession at all?
So – good and not so to be taken from the day. Tara Fenwick, though, provided the freshest breath of air when she warned against being too “up ourselves” about the forthcoming Research Excellence Framework (REF) in case it obstructed our engagement with the real world. And she’s a Professor of Education. Good for her.
Am engaged in an interesting debate on the Times Education website about Gaelic education, with many teachers suggesting that as it’s a dying language, it should not be funded as a subject in schools. They miss the wider picture, I think.
It seems to me that every time a language dies out, the oral traditions, the histories and music and rhythms of a culture die too. To suggest that languages should just be allowed to wither for “practical” reasons is as shallow-souled and short sighted as allowing endangered species to die out for economic reasons. The result would be a world without natural and human beauty. This planet has been successful because of its vast, gorgeous diversity – and I reckon it’s worth paying a few quid to preserve that.