Tag: Curriculum

Gwynne

Michael Gove, “the most important person in education,” (according to Nevile Gwynne), likes and promulgates Gwynne’s grammar, and for a while the grammarian himself is available in a brief conversation on BBC Radio 4’s Today programme. This is the link that works for now. http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/p01c98k1.

In a very short piece on R4 it isn’t possible to explore Gwynne’s arguments very easily, any more than it was when he appeared on Saturday Live; sweeping statements go unchallenged, and this four or so minutes certainly isn’t a scholarly defence of grammar, still less the teaching of grammar in schools, but as a test of current government thinking has some interesting points to ponder. Was an understanding of grammar acquired “effortlessly” before the age of nine? I wonder whether Gwynne’s defence of corporal punishment on his website suggests otherwise. Here, as part of a class he is running, he suggests looking at the arguments around the subject:

The days of “six of the best” are now over, almost everywhere in every country in the Western world. But… will someone please, after reading the following (a) extract from a newspaper article and (b) letter responding to it, be so kind as to let me know what possible alternative there is to corporal punishment that is sufficient to do the essential job – both for the indicidual and society — that “the cane” had done everywhere throughout the whole of recorded history up to the 1960s and after?

Given the accuracy of my typing, it would be churlish to mock the typo, and in any case the pedant in me likes the fact that there is no apostrophe in 1960s.

Here, Neville Gwynne simply raises the question for others to respond to.

However, I feel torn when reading some of his articles.  I seriously disagree with some of his ideas, and might well question some of his sources or approaches, but  I must admit that when I mark the work of some of my students, from the  generation that grammar forgot, I want to say with him that “A very great deal of our knowledge comes from argument, which is our most important means of checking and making sure that what we believe is true.” Similarly, when he states with obvious passion that “Real philosophy is simply the overall science of “getting it right” in all our activities, from deciding what time to get up in the morning to choosing the right religious or anti-religious position.  We are all philosophers whether we like it or not,” I find myself nodding in (at least partial) agreement.

 

 

All over bar the shouting? Assessment, exams and sunny days

My daughter Rosa is all but through the last school assessments she will ever have to do, the last of our children to have to do this.  A levels done, one last BTEC assessment point to go. Whatever she chooses next, exams in sixth form will not return. There will, I guess, be no more attentive sixth-form teachers to coax her from a panic, but equally no school worrying about grades and profiles either. For a brief time (maybe), she has no academic ties. She has “made it.”   She is sitting in the garden in the sunshine this evening. I am glad, proud to look out at her, and it prompts this reflection.

Today, by a sort of coincidentia oppositorum I sat in three meetings today considering at University level the marks for semester 2. So many stories passed by, some as numbers only to most of us, a brief window into someone’s difficulties and then on. I raise a couple of questions, and we move on; the meeting is attentive but businesslike.  Brookes will have processed about 3000 graduates today, maybe 10,000 undergraduate marks in all, according to John Raftery, the pro-VC.  No mean feat.  And in some other rooms in a few week’s time, Rosa will appear – a name no-one knows, or maybe “just” a number? – and be processed and then disappear. The computers will reassert themselves, the stuff will go to schools, et voila c’est fini pour la petite Antigone. She becomes a “past pupil.”

It never is impersonal, not really; tutors know the names they are dealing with, understand the cases, in some cases have handed tissues to distraught students, or answered worried emails, or made a judiciously timed cuppa for someone. Tonight, though, I feel the weight of it.  I just wouldn’t want anyone – least of all the students who will get their results and be happy or sad or relieved or irritated on Monday, or the students at the end of sixth-form crowding round school doors and opening envelopes in mid-August who may see new possibilities arising and sometimes big plans slip out the picture – to think that these complex and somewhat paper-heavy processes are undertaken by heartless bureaucrats. We do know. We are acutely aware of what our decisions will do, or might do. A mark here, a grade there. We know what they mean.

I look at Rosa in the garden and wonder, just sometimes, how we dare.

Early Years Teacher Standards

A slightly worrying post from Julian Grenier (how does he find the time?) about the difference between consultation and decision with regards to Early Years Teachers’ standards. His argument appears in his blog, linked here. The Best Practice Network site has the consultation/not-a-consultation standards on this page.

This is not to say that the Best Practice Network standards are wrong. I rather like the idea of teachers having

secure knowledge of early childhood development and how that leads to successful learning and development at school

Who wouldn’t?

Similarly, I really enjoy seeing teaching students when they

plan balanced and flexible activities and educational programmes that take into account the stage of development, circumstances and interests of children

But Julian is quite right: Does this mean that the Standards are now in place regardless of the analysis of the consultation?

 

Another short posting

This time, to post a link to Michael Rosen’s analysis of Michael Gove’s article in today’s Times.

“Some people… find it so difficult or painful to admit that they’re wrong that it is much more comfortable for them to keep repeating that everyone else is wrong instead.”

Criticism has continued in TES, too, or at least been documented there.

The Secretary of State was in no mood to back down, however,  after the battling at the NAHT conference  (here is his speech and here and here is some reporting of the occasion) – but I am reminded of the way that John Patten’s rhetoric also faltered, with parents  headteachers and teachers all described as historical bygones – Neanderthals, Dinosaurs – and how David Blunkett likewise overused the idea of educationalists as “cynical” when they (we) opposed what he suggested. This, on Patten, from the Indie in the depths of the nineties, makes for interesting comparisons, for example.

Are we (as we like to see ourselves) principled, educated, analytical – or maybe being SoS for Education is like being a cat-herder?

 

 

Truss continued

The best-argued riposte to Liz Truss so far has come, I think, from Julian Grenier in a post on Inside the Secret Garden. I even get a mention! – but that’s not why it’s impressive.  Well thought-out and impassioned stuff, Julian.

Of course, the situation is changing daily, with most media attention going to Nick Clegg’s newly-voiced opposition to and the PM’s possibly wavering support for Liz Truss’ model around ratios.  They are, of course  being watched carefully on all sides at a politically difficult time for both leaders. Just for info, here is their joint thinking from March.

Caught in the middle of more marking than I care to think of, I would merely point out that ratios only make up part of this tussle (can we call it a Trussle?).  She is also talking about the ways in which the graduate workforce can be afforded, and has either (depending on your interpretation) tried to sell this by talking about an adult-dominated pedagogy, or she has sought to introduce a sort of Key Stage 2 pedagogy to get away from the ‘chaos’ of free-flow play.  Ratios are an important part of this; how we afford well-paid graduates (they need to be well paid to pay off their University fees, of course) is another; whether play is at the heart of children’s learning strikes me as the most important point –  and one I really don’t want us to forget.

Grumbling

HE colleagues know that, as in any institution, politics (and specifically the politics of grumbling and Schadenfreude) are the bread-and-butter of daily contact.  St Benedict is acutely aware of this and warns in his Rule that acts of obedience should be carried out

non trepide, non tarde, non tepide, aut cum murmurio

The English translation doesn’t have the same ring to it:

without hesitation, delay, lukewarmness, grumbling

But you get the idea. Benedict is not a fan.

However, there does come a point, for example when ITE engages with policy, where grumbling can become protest, and there are probably occasions where this is right and proper.

Two examples are linked below, for anyone to contemplate: one, a satire on Michael Gove’s  latest dig at history teaching, the other links to the the continuing campaign against Liz Truss’ vision for Early Years, which I have written about twice  already.

Here is the Mr Men satire from Paul Bernal’s blog. Enjoy if you like, critique, consider. It is worth reading the Gove speech in full, of course – and again, “enjoy, critique, consider” (in whatever measure you can) are the watchwords.

And here and here are voices about Graduates and ratios in the EY workforce, and a report from the Telegraph on Liz Truss’ latest defence of her proposals.

While the Mr Gove satire raises a smile, and the to-ing and fro-ing around More Great Childcare is interesting (if not illuminating ), I thought I’d finish with a link to Julian Grenier’s piece on his Inside the Secret Garden blog. With these names in the frame, the battle is more serious.

 

Biking in today

If this doesn’t seem like an Early Childhood issue, well, read on.

Yesterday’s Observer seems to have moved into the anti-cycling camp, even if only to give some publicity to the people who want to ban bikes from disturbing the tranquillity of driving.  UKIP, for example – I know, an extreme example –  have some much-publicised things to say about how “cyclists” must not be allowed to “cause unacceptable delays to traffic.” It made this morning’s bike ride a little less pleasant, although the Anthriscus Arvensis and the smell of blossom from the trees (yes, I am sorry for the Hay Fever sufferers)  did much to alleviate my gloom.

But, because I was aware of how unwelcome I and other cyclists can be, what I did see were an awful lot of idiot cyclists and impatient drivers: the suited chap on his bike who went through the red lights and still only reached Oxford station at much the same time as I did; the Oxford bus driver who seemed to think his new, loud horn needed sharing with lots of people – and I have to contrast that with the cyclist who chatted with me at the traffic lights, and the bus driver who gave me a “thank you” flash of indicators when I let him pull out.

So what has this got to do with Early Years? It just made me think: what if as road users we based our thinking and behaviours on four themes similar to those underpinning the Early Years Foundation Stage?  We might end up with something like this:

Every road user  is a unique road user, who is constantly learning and can be resilient, capable, confident and self-assured;

Cyclists and drivers  learn to be respectful of each other’s needs  through positive relationships;

Road users  learn and develop well in enabling environments, in which their experiences respond to their individual needs and there is a strong partnership between legislation, signage, reasonable use of road space and understanding of one another’s needs;

Some road users are not always immediately aware of others’ needs. Just as children develop Theory of Mind in different ways and at different rates, we all need to take responsibility for how our road use teaches others .

Ah well, just a thought…

 

Sense of Purpose

Liz Truss has made some comments which, if accurately reported in this morning’s Guardian, suggest that she and I sit at opposite ends of a spectrum of views of how children learn best.  “Free-flow play is not compulsory,” she states in the Mail. I will be addressing this as a key theme in my class tomorrow morning  – a gift ( as is Toby Young’s rather sideways defence in the Telegraph) for my summative class on Play and Pedagogy of the semester!

But we do need to look behind the rhetoric and the snarling with which the Guardian message boards are filling up. The bile is extraordinary, a tap turned on to release a slurry pit of anger. Maybe that was her intention; it certainly doesn’t help a reasoned voice to be heard in response. Giving children a sense of purpose is important, and I worry that this sort of statement is liable to drown out a lot of good work that thoughtful people do with their own children and as paid professionals or volunteers.  Few parents (or grandparents) want a bear pit at home, any more than a nursery worker wants a block play corner wrecked or Lord of The Flies in the garden – but that’s not what actually happens; by building on children’s interests that grow from adult stimuli (a book, a song, some colour in the water tray) children are encouraged to develop a sense of purpose. This is autonomous learning: satnav politeness isn’t the aim, and in any case politeness is best modelled rather than instructed, which requires, for one thing, warm, genuine interest from the adults around the child.

And here is part of my chapter from our book Themes and Debates, blogged last summer. I note an increase recently in people finding my longer extract on Academia.edu by searching for “Formal and informal curricula,” too.

Social World of Childhood?

Yes I know this is a module title from the Ed Studies programme here, but I wanted to give some account of my being on the school bus, the 4a from Headington up to the top of the Raleigh Park estate in Oxford, with an increasing pile of kids from Matthew Arnold School.  They were legion and noisy at the start of the day, and sort of objecting to my curmudgeonly refusing to move so they could sit together. What was most interesting was their concerns: “Would I be allowed to have my ‘phone in behaviour support?”  “Did you know that [A] isn’t speaking to [B] since [B] said she didn’t like [C]???””Miss [to the luckless TA also on the bus], I have an exam tomorrow does that mean I miss behaviour support?” The conversations were all about behaviour and relationships, a descant to the tap of mobile ‘phones, multifaceted conversations.

Why I am surprised?

I’m not, well, not really – but what I want to underline is how little any of this seemed to chime with the grand high project of education I was going to lecture on.  On the bus I felt surrounded by an alien world, a world of children and young people: concerns around rules and rule-breaking; alliances and gossip; what can be got away with and what will have to be endured.