Month: July 2020

Things are not always what they seem…

/ benjaminjevans / Leave a comment

This is part of a quote from Phaedrus, who lived in the first century AD. Not a lot is known about him, but the line above is well known and the full quote is as follows:

Things are not always what they seem; the first appearance deceives many; the intelligence of a few perceives what has been carefully hidden.

We live busy lives, and it’s rare that we are able to give our undivided attention to any one thing. Therefore we move through our days in a haze of work, social media, Netflix, podcasts and our own internal monologue, all of which compete for time and attention. We pick up soundbites, quotes and memes along the way, and use these to bluff our way through conversations about culture and politics. By skating on the surface of issues, few of us perceive what is hidden, carefully or otherwise.

I re-read a pertinent piece by the prolific Greg Ashman recently, concerning the proposed ‘decluttering’ of the Australian Curriculum. At first appearance, this must be a good thing. Why would anyone want a curriculum to be cluttered? But if by decluttering a curriculum we really mean ‘strip out the essential knowledge required to be successful in a subject’ (which may be the hidden subtext), the concept becomes less sound. Decluttering one’s house by getting rid of unnecessary rubbish is a good idea, but throwing out priceless family heirlooms in the process is not sensible.

In Greg’s piece, he mentions the three strands into which science is divided by the Australian Curriculum. I favour a science curriculum that is rigorous, logically sequenced and details what children ought to know. In the UK, a strand called How Science Works was added in the decade before last, which aimed to get pupils to think like scientists. On the surface, this is reasonable, but of course there is no such thing as thinking like a scientist – the reason that scientists think that way is because they know a lot about science.

In Australia, we have a strand called Science as a Human Endeavour (SHE), which aims to widen the study of science from actually understanding the subject to being able to provide waffle-statements about international collaboration between scientists and the fact that science subjects are linked. The upshot is that pupils behave akin to foreign tourists reading a menu in an unfamiliar language. They are presented with a complex scientific article they don’t really understand (and neither should they be expected to), so resort to picking out gobbets of information relating to SHE concepts. Given the statements to support SHE are so vague, for example development of complex scientific models and/or theories often requires a wide range of evidence from many sources and across disciplines, they gain credit by cherry-picking single statements. A common winner is to notice that a scientist from Belgium seems to have worked alongside someone from New Zealand – bingo, international collaboration: credit unlocked.

If we were serious about humanising science, we could provide subtle and intellectual opportunities for this. The scandal concerning the non-discovery of element 118 allows for understanding of artificially created elements and the development of the periodic table. But is also allows us to consider scientific ethics, integrity, results verification and the darker side of the subject. Primo Levi’s book The Periodic Table blends chemistry, history and personal anguish, and finishes on an exhilarating journey of a carbon atom. There is genuine truth to be gained about humanity and science from these texts; they are worth more than what they seem on the surface. If we are going to build in a wider approach to the teaching of science, we need to make sure that it adds to the learning experience, not masks what has been learned.

Another wise man who spoke to the concept of things not being not always what they seem was the irreverent Douglas Adams. In The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, he wrote:

It is an important and popular fact that things are not always what they seem. For instance, on the planet Earth, man had always assumed that he was more intelligent than dolphins because he has achieved so much, the wheel, New York, wars and so on – whilst all the dolphins had every done was muck about in the water having a good time. But conversely, the dolphins had always believed that they were far more intelligent than man for precisely the same reasons…

If it came to a choice between completing a SHE task and mucking around in the water, I know which one I’d choose.

Lambs to the slaughter

/ benjaminjevans / 7 Comments

We’re about to enter peak interview season here in Australia. Term 3 is the time when most staffing needs are identified and filled for the next academic year. I consider the appointment and development of teachers the most important part of my role, bar none.

Teaching is not a high status profession in Australia, and the demand for good teachers generally exceeds the supply. The relatively low ATAR required to access teaching degrees provides evidence that many of the highest academic achievers at School are not tempted by the chance to develop the next generation of high achievers. This is fine – it would be pleasing to have a surfeit of excellent teachers, but we are where we are.

As Dylan Wiliam points out, you need ‘love the one you’re with’, and if we understand that all teachers can improve, it is the responsibility of Schools to develop the capacity of their staff. Professional learning should be personalised, enjoyable and empowering – the main area of focus for each teacher should be writ large and a sense of progression should be evident.

In addition to the responsibility of Schools to allow their teachers to improve, it’s vital that teachers begin their journey with the highest chance of success, and is (in part) dependent on the quality of teacher education degrees and courses. Put simply. if a fledgling teacher knows their subject well, is able to explain that subject well *and* is able to manage a classroom effectively, they have been set up for success.

I have been interviewing teachers for 10 – 15 years, and that means I have probably interviewed around 500 teachers and read over 10000 application letters and CVs. My evidence is anecdotal, but it’s also based on a large sample. I very rarely read anything in a letter (or the voguish ‘statement of personal philosophy’) relating to the candidates interest in their subject. I very rarely read anything about how the teacher ensures purposeful learning or manages a classroom effectively. I read a lot about the following:

  1. The importance of relationships in teaching.
  2. The importance of engaging lessons.
  3. Catering for different needs and learning styles.
  4. Ensuring students have a say in what they learn and/or the medium in which they work.

It is particularly true in the case of early-career teachers that application letters look to have been drafted in consultation with each other, given how similar they are. They tend to lack specifics, but are clearly intended to give the impression of a teacher who is uber-flexible; able to cater for the diverse interests and needs of 25+ students in each class. It is only when the interview questions get uncomfortably specific that the realisation dawns: this is neither possible, nor desirable. A segment may run something like this:

‘I give all students a choice in how they present their work. For example, a child who is weak at writing may wish to present their essay as a video presentation’.

Do you believe that all students should become fluent writers?

‘Yes’.

So how does allowing a child for whom written English is an issue the chance to avoid writing going to improve his/her writing?

…

And so on. It is incredibly frustrating to meet and interview so many early-career teachers that are clever, enthusiastic and determined, but seem to have been fed so much loose and progressive ideology during the time when they should be being prepared for a demanding job on the front line. Managing a large class of teenagers for a double lesson after lunch requires careful planning and sensible strategy to make learning purposeful. It is not a case that by planning myriad activities you can survive as a teacher by hopping swiftly to the next activity at the first sign of boredom. By planning lessons around engagement, because you know otherwise that things will go off the rails, we raise teacher stress and workload to intolerable levels and impact the learning of their children, given that it’s unlikely they will end up thinking hard in that lesson.

Nothing can be achieved without a class that is well behaved, or at least well managed. We have reached a point, however, where we are more likely to blame a teacher for not being able to control a class than the children in that class who behave poorly. It is my strong belief that we have plenty of potentially excellent teachers to fill our Schools, but that we need to do far more to ready them for the rigours of the job. Teaching is not so rough that we need to give them a metaphorical suit of armour, but a jester’s outfit covered in bells doesn’t seem to be cutting it at present.

Peak anti-intellectualism

/ benjaminjevans / 2 Comments

As the corona-crisis extends into an uncertain future, an approximate date for the end of the pandemic is difficult to estimate. The popular Google search ‘when will the pandemic end’ evidently misunderstands how Google works (spoiler: it is not an all-knowing God) and with India unlikely to reach its peak until the end of 2020, it looks as though we need to steel ourselves for the long haul. It is probably true that ‘we suffer more often in imagination that in reality’, but the current situation is very real, and it also provides us with an opportunity to imagine things being far worse.

At a time when people’s emotions will be heightened, it’s hardly surprising that social media turns into a Catherine wheel. Ludicrous opinions are fired off in all directions, usually accompanied by a cry to ‘Educate Yourself!’, which is the latest irritating phrase that when translated, means ‘agree with me, you fool!’

I’m not sure much can be gained from entering into debate with some of the most vocal on social media. I don’t sense these people are interested in discussion, and are programmed to ‘transmit’. I like discussion and debate, partially to help me to understand, but debate is such a minefield these days that the chance of being blown up by standing on a particular piece of ground (even gently) is too high to take the risk. It’s often the case that this specific ground was safe a week or so ago, but the pace of cultural change is so swift that what was normal in June can get you cancelled in July.

Wisdom generally tends to be accompanied by a certain humility: the more expert one is in an area, the more humble they become when the sheer vastness of that area reveals itself. On the contrary, the simple and binary worldview of the internet shouters make it ever clearer that they are in the right and anyone who disagrees simply needs to eDuCAte ThEmsElVeS!

Why have we ended up with such a veneration of the anti-intellectual? Why do we actively frown upon the ability to think for oneself, especially when it means thinking something different as pre-determined by one’s identity? Why do we give a platform to pure ideologues with little expertise, just a simplistic view that celebrates division and rarely seeks to bring people together?

When conflict is the problem, education is usually the solution. If we are able to raise a generation with a nuanced understanding of the issues they are discussing, whilst also instilling in them a sense of purpose, we can be satisfied with a job well done. If we refuse to teach them that which needs to be understood, we do them a disservice. The following tweet is a single example, but it’s a commonly held belief that Schools exist more to rebuild broken children than to make them cleverer. Not only does this betray a dim view of the efforts of parents, it also promotes a dangerous level of anti-intellectualism. The dismissive term ‘content’ means the meat and substance of the subject in question, and by doing away with that, what is left?