Trainee? Student?

A minor addition to the arguments below: if (as often happens) we call the people undergoing Initial Teacher Training Trainees (since, if they are taking up training, they are being trained), we put them into the passive. We describe their process  as something done to them rather than something they do; the verb is linked to trainer in French, trahere in Latin. A train, a convoy of things being pulled along.

They are being trained.

If we call these people students, they are active – it’s derived from a present participle, and to add to all this, it’s the present particple of the Latin verb studire, which can mean “to be zealous, to be absorbed [by].”

Of course, we could take this further, and suggest that someone described in the passive of “to train” has somewhere in their etymological baggage the image of someone “being dragged,” whereas the student is someone who is enthusiastic for something, someone with a desire for active participation – perhaps someone so enthused – by their own teachers, perhaps, but also by the business of education – as to seek creative solutions for themselves: a risk-taker?

This is straying into Furedi territory again, and probably far-fetched, but does it suggest two very different images, and comes close to McGregor’s theory of X and Y models of employees – see this link or this. Are we in danger of assuming that trainees are feckless people who need dragging along? I would hope not; but we do need to be aware of the nuances of our language about the work we do.

Child Development, perhaps

This link takes us to the blog of a bloke called Don Ledingham, who states that

Recent research, and our intuitive understanding, into the link between the ability to read and the ability to access the curriculum would suggest that a child’s developmental level is a key factor in their success or failure. Yet we treat younger children, who might be 20 per cent behind in their development, in exactly the same way as their peers.

I’d echo his thoughts on this.

I’ve had the good luck over the last few weeks of visiting some really good young and trainee EY practitioners in schools, and am brought back time and again to my persistent worry that, even where Child Development is part of the training programme for EY teachers and other practitioners, we run the risk of having our work (and consequently their work with young chidlren) dominated by externally defined structure – by training them to be what, in a previous post I noted Frank Furedi calling HE lecturers “purveyors.” Outcome mongers, perhaps.

What I would, in a perfect world, be calling for is a training curriculum that trusts three key players in the training process much more deeply than at present: it would trust the trainee who, increasingly, is in the process not by default (if that were ever widely the case) but out of a genuine desire to understand and practise the skills of teaching; it would trust the schools as hosts and partners to have something to give other than classroom space for the inexperienced to gain experience; it would trust initial teacher training providers to be able to encourage trainees in their desire – to encourage scholarship, risk-taking and learning from their mistakes. But this Utopia would be undrpinned by my desire to see Child Devlopment at the heart of the understanding of trainee – and the lecturer, and the host teacher – and that’s maybe just me wanting to impose that agenda rather than the agenda of people who work best by structure.

If I were you III

Oxford Brookes describes itself as ” learner centred,” but what does that mean in the context of an afternoon (or a morning) with PGCE trainees? Frank Furedi has an interesting insight on this in his THES article from December 2007, in which he castigates newer HE instititions for embracing a student centred model:

The equation of the student experience with an act of consumption has serious implications for academic life. The most important casualty of the promotion of this consumer-dictated model is the fundamental relationship between academics and their students. The model implicitly demands the transformation of the relationship between scholar and student to that of a provider of knowledge and skills and customer.

However, Furedi is talking, I think, not so much about HE/ITT or other professional training in Universities as about the less vocational tasks of education and training at HE level, where “economic and political pressures… are likely to distract lecturers from working in accordance with their discipline-based ethos,” whereas ITT is already subject to these forces in a number of important ways, and has been for some time. Or is this too world-weary?

Not to beat ourselves up too much – or to expose tutors to unnecessary criticism – it must have some connection with the difficulties of constructing a programme with at least three differing end points, two of which are official and externally generated: TDA requirements and the measures such as National Curriculum testing and OfSTED that judge teachers to be effective. The third – tertium non datum? – is where I think we become (or can become) learner-centrered, the area of the greatest creativity, in which assessment for learning meets the enthusiasm and previous experiences of the trainee – or their cynicism, or tiredness – to try and make a realistic programme that will inspire for success as well as prepare for survival.

Maybe that last line is what I’d really like: something not only grounded in good classroom practice, but also inspirational, to carry the hesitant into better practice than predecessors in a post might have had – or to sustain that good practice, rather than be bowed down by current tensions. This means we are urging change, in Initial Teacher Training, at least insofar as we empower our trainees to look for alternative solutions, to think creatively and to get to grips with that fundamental question that (at interview) seems such a trite warm-up line: Why do you want to be a teacher?

“Education from the neck up?”

I want to try and unpick the question of formal and informal curricula a bit more.
McCann’s account of Samuel Wilderspin’s desperate attempts at gaining his distressed pupils’ attention by instituting learning through play show how far we have come – and not come? – since the day in 1826:

When their mothers had left, nearly all the children started crying ‘Mammy! mammy!’ Wilderspin’s wife tried to calm the tumult but had to leave the room and Wilderspin also ‘exhausted by effort, anxiety and noise’ was compelled to follow her, ‘leaving my unfortunate pupils in one dense mass, crying, yelling and kicking against the door’. In despair Wilderspin picked up his wife’s cap adorned with coloured ribbons, put it on to a clothes prop and dashed back into the schoolroom. ‘All the children’, he found to his amazement, ‘ . . . were instantly silent.’ The silence was only momentary, however, but before general disorder could break out again Wilderspin had cried, ‘Now we will all play “Duck”, and I will be the great Duck.’ The children immediately began a chorus of ‘quack, quack, quack’. Then he said, ‘Now we will play at “Hen and Chickens”, and I will be the old hen, and when I cry “cup-biddy”, “cup-biddy”, you must all come.’ Wilderspin was surprised to find that it all succeeded admirably and twelve o’clock came before they knew where they were.
(cited in McCann, P (1966))

It is an isolated incident in the early career of an educator – at one level. It can also be seen as a turning point (as McCann (1966) and Singer (2005) might argue) in the application of enlightenment educational theory to practice, the incident that exemplifies a growing understanding of “child-centredness.”
We have come to the key phrase. What does it mean to be “child-centered”? I suspect that, at its bluntest, it means (as Singer seems to imply) a power-shift towards listening to children, reflecting on those needs and how they are expressed. The questions I raised in the Reflective Reader (Wild and Mitchell 2007) remain pertinent:

  • How does the practitioner know when to intervene?
  • Is it about policing behaviour, or about instruction?
  • Is play a private world for children?
  • Can this level of interaction be sustained where the curriculum is led in such a way that the adults’ time is taken up with direct teaching?

But of course the bigger questions remain: how do policy makers and implementers understand children’s learning? At what level is child-centredness a genuine political, practical and moral choice?

Or is this the wrong question? Ken Robinson’s light but engaging speech (“Education professors…They live in their heads… disembodied; they look upon their bodies as a form of transport for their heads…”) raises questions about how learning and intelligence are conceived, and whether the needs education addresses are employment based (“Don’t do music, you’ll never be a musician”) which he describes as “benign advice, profoundly mistaken.”

It is fascinating to read in Margaret McMillan’s Education through the Imagination (1923 edition in front of me, but the first edition is pre WWI) that

“The learning of facts and of formal arts, the training of the verbal memory, the discipline of the classroom and the school are very good things in their way, but they are only means to an end. The energy that wins them and uses them is needed everywhere…” (p11)

McMillan is vociferous about how parrot-learning is a destructive thing – but in looking at her attack on formal learning we need to remember not only the context of much Edwardian/Georgian schooling (pace Wilderspin above, and others) but also the psychological construct she is using, in which memory is seen as unsubtle, a monolith that “has to be broken up…to be of real use.” (p21).

Interactive, dynamic… (If I were you II)

In what ways can training to be a teacher be made to mirror the curriculum we offer to young children?

There is an interactive element that very closely mirrors this in the school experiences or teaching practices trainees undergo. Here the elements of first-hand experience and social learning that are obvious in documents such as EYFS Card 4.1 and card 4.2 are brought to bear on the trainee. In some courses this is almost in a apprenticeship model.

I suspect the dynamism is brought by the trainee, to some extent: “I could always teach” is an attitude as unwelcome today as ever. It is fostered, however, by the degree to which the trainers allow imagination, exploration and risk-taking to be part of the formation of the new teacher. Or at least, that’s the ideal world…

If I were you I wouldn’t start from here. Part I

I’ve often said this to trainees when they find the pace and content of the PGCE tricky in some way, and seeing my sister going the GTP makes me wonder whether the present alternatives are actually any healthier. Study where a fast pace is set by external forces generates stress, just as any working to deadlines does. What then are the possible alternatives?

The most radical would be to say that graduates should be able to teach without further qualificatory training; that they are intelligent enough to read and to pick up what they need form in-service training. The old charge at the Oxford degree ceremony Do vobis potestatem legendi “I confer on you the power to lecture” holds true, if this is the case. Instinctively I want to say it can’t mean “teach” in the sense we use it today. The transferable skills of “graduateness” may well equip people to tackle the demands of a new profession or to evaluate their professional practice differently, but do not, of themselves, constitute a sufficient understanding of child development, pedagogy, &c &c.

At the other extreme, I think, is the idea that only a rigorously regulated, top-down training prepares the untested for the requirements of being a government agent in education. Danger of death by a thousand folders and government initiatives follows, or at least might follow,with the trainee being seen as a recipient or information, being prepared to become a deliverer of policy.

And this is where the “If I were you” really starts to bite. A recent(ish) speech (cited in this article on outdoors education) suggsts that we need a pedagogy that is “interactive, dynamic, ethical, educational, and caring:” a tall order!

Key to the process has got be an understanding of notion of curriculum, including how we view that nebulous concept “the needs of the child,” and a definition of the role of the teacher, although the findings from recent research in New Jersey suggest that significant differences in content in training exist in US (as, perhaps, here in UK), and that issues of equity need to be addressed.

Is there a difference between sustained shared thinking and effective pedagogy in the early years?

The bald answer has to be yes, of course. Not everything in a good quality Early Years centre is going to be sustained shared thinking; even the logistics of space and ratio would tend to prevent it.

Similarly – and crucially, in the context of this argument – Siraj-Blatchford et al make a telling point about staff expertise in this paragraph:

While ‘sustained shared thinking’ may be considered a necessary pre-requisite for excellent pedagogy in the early years; our analysis also shows that on its own it may be insufficient. We found examples of practitioners whose knowledge and understanding of the particular curriculum area being addressed was inadequate and this led to missed opportunities or uncertain outcomes, and this was particularly the case for the direct teaching of phonics. (p66).

Where does this insufficiency stem from? Perhaps – I almost hesitate to say – from the reverential approach to childhood that is more protective than challenging. There is a real need for practitioners and people who train them to sort out a coherent model, an ethic, perhaps, of Early Childhood Education, coupled with a need, as the report states, “to identify the pedagogic models being applied by the most effective settings and to find out how these are realised in practice.” (p40) The REPEY project report is quite clear, for example, that, while formal programmes of instruction can be “counterproductive” (p30), “participation in excellent, cognitively oriented pre-school programmes was associated with later school competence”, (p30) . If programmes are not the way – and perhaps my disquiet is around whether sustained shared thinking might not become a programme – then how do we distinguish quality practice from poor?

Time to revisit Barbara Jordan’s chapter on co-construction in Anning et al (2004) Early Childhood Education: Society and Culture and ask What are the implications (of time and space) for this approach, not so that children are followed round by quizzical “metacognitive practitioners” (a bizarre notion of the teacher/EY practitioner) but so that a balance of time and effort is given to effective instructive activity in which the child is listened to, as well as time set aside for activities in which the adult, as a competent partner, shares their enthusiasm and experetise…

New phonics in context?

As a codicil, really, to the last posting, the report in Education Guardian today is very encouraging, linking a phonics approach to a whole community drive to improve literacy standards:

Synthetic phonics, where children learn to sound out the single and combined sounds of letters, has been at the core of the scheme but it has not been the only factor. A 10-strand intervention was set up, featuring a team of specially trained teachers, focused assessment, extra time for reading in the curriculum, home support for parents and carers, and the fostering of a “literacy environment” in the community.

(My emphases)

The artcile continues, very tellingly:

Lynn Townsend, head of service for education at West Dunbartonshire council, says the project would not have succeeded if they had not focused on the few falling through the cracks.

If we don’t pretend that one single set of actions will work for all children, then maybe we can do something about raising standards through phonics teaching.