The ‘Best’ (who and what exactly)?

Teaching is dizzyingly complex and uncompromisingly pressure-ridden. Teaching is also susceptible to rhetoric and action which promulgates a sense of guilt about not measuring up against expectations and performance of peers and raises personal and public queries over competence. For some, this paralysing guilt can originate from a myriad of sources; excessive work scrutiny, school inspection, lesson observation, appraisal against teaching standards, vigorously peddled ideology and interaction with persons who with sarcasm and pomposity, point out ‘what the research says’, ‘what the evidence is’, and ‘you should be …’. These same people seem to spend an inordinate amount of time in corrective mode, wading in and pointing out the shortcomings or inadequacies of people’s or schools ideas or practices. It all feels so unhealthily competitive and undermining at times.

Who then, in all honesty, could be considered an interlocutor when it comes to identifying who the ‘best’ teachers are and describing and defining what the ‘best’ teachers do, think, read, act like, strive for etc.? Best at what? Best for who? Best to what end? What research or evidence is ‘best’? Have we actually agreed on what ‘best’ is or looks like? I would argue that when ‘best’ is employed to describe or define anything, it can lead to a form of cognitive imprisonment, making us narrowly believe that there is little else needed, sought or researched or we need to change our mind about what we have always believed. The mere utterance of ‘best’ is constraining. As Brookfield (1995) notes, “primarily it serves individuals with a reductionist cast of mind who believe that the dynamics and contradictions of teaching can be reduced to a linear, quantifiable rating system”. He goes on to note that “such epistemologically challenged people sometimes work their way into positions of administrative and legislative power. Believing that learning and teaching are unidimensional, they carve curricula into discrete units and create standardised objectives (and methods) that are meant to be context and culture-proof”.

The idea of ‘best’ can also cause us to ossify into congeries of confusion and self-doubt. I don’t know many teachers who aren’t committed to developing their practice, and that is not to say they aren’t aware of what research and support is out there. They want to smite the crappy jargonistic vernacular, arrest the flow of fads and take a broom to the bureaucracy that coagulates our time and prevents collaboration, progress and developing agency. That said, the many masks and roles we expect our teachers to shift between to be ‘the best’ and showcase the ‘best’ is worrying. Teachers don’t have chromatophores that allow them to quickly blend into and fabricate their ways to meet policy change or shifting school expectations. It’s just not that easy logistically let alone emotionally.

As I mentioned in a previous blog, it seems that professional action is at the forefront of the agenda of education at the moment and professional action needs to be justified and defended. There is a case made by some that nothing should be left to chance. But many commentators are punch-drunk on myth-busting, fad-smashing and having an epiphany about the fact that were led up the garden path and were wrong. They critique the part without addressing the whole. As Ball states (2015), we need to question the ‘necessarian logic’ espoused by policy entrepreneurs, so-called ‘experts’ and those that create the murky swamp that is a business-like or medicalised view of education and ‘what counts’ and ‘what works’.

Teaching shouldn’t be a contest or a pursuit to sort and rank practitioners. Nor should it be a director’s cut with CGI, costumes and clever marketing and promotion trotted out on occasion to extol the views and practice of some and marginalize others. I would argue that when teachers have worked together, thought together and researched together we have ameliorated some pretty big issues and advanced the profession, whereas we have only served to divide and compete with ourselves by creating a sense of ‘the best’.

The River

The warm, gentle evening breeze carved wave-like patterns in the long grass as we trod a path through the meadow. High above birds glided on the last thermals of the day before coming to rest on the branches of the willows that flanked the river. As the light drained away like floodwater an inquisitive face peered up at me. “Daddy, where are they?”

“Just through that gate and down the hill” I replied. Our youngest daughter raised her tiny arms and gestured to me to carry her tired frame. As she nestled into my shoulder she drew a yawn and then whispered to me to hurry up before sleep took her. She was eager to see someone.

We paused some ten metres or so away from two figures sitting motionless on the bank of the river. I turned and stared at the now perked-up four year old I was carrying. The light caught her eyes and just for a moment I saw my father’s playful spirit in them. “We should pounce on them like tiger’s” she said with a grin before asking to be put down on the ground. She placed her little hand in mine and led me slowly and quietly towards her sister and their grandad. Clasping her mouth with both hands she held back giggles to listen closely to the words being spoken which were being carried by the breeze now blowing towards us.

“I taught your father to fish here, you know.” The old man wrapped his arm around our eldest daughter. “He had no patience at all. You are doing far better” he chuckled.

“What else did you teach him grandad? Tell me about when he was a boy please.”

As the shadows grew longer the two moved closer together, cuddling as the temperature dropped and the stars began to adorn the darkening sky. All we could make out was laughter and gesturing as stories were recounted. Soon my father stood up and placed our eldest daughter on his back. They trudged away from the river just as I felt our youngest’s hand lose grip with mine. She raced through the grass and leapt, true to her word, like a tiger. Two became three, hand joining hand.

I turned and walked back through the meadow, content that moments like this were utterly unforgettable and would in time become cherished memories.

My daughters, please understand …

Sadly daddy’s father never became your grandparent. He passed when Daddy was seventeen. Despite the futility of imagining memories such as these and picturing him in your lives had he lived longer, I still feel the collision of gratitude at being your dad on one hand and a sense of grief that he is not here to share in your lives. You occasionally ask me about him. While I am happy to share stories of his life with you, I wish I didn’t have to refer to him in the past tense.

I want you to know that your grandfather was an accomplished engineer, a man who fully understood and appreciated the essence of precision in his work. He also loved his family dearly and knew much about the unpredictable course of life. As a teacher, daddy is forever wrestling with the imprecise and uncertain, but he is grateful for having learnt from grandad to accept and work through opportunity and adversity and understands that attempts to fully control life eventually controls us, our relationships and processes. I look at you and remind myself not to be impatient to see you grow up, but to be attentive right now and prepared to vacillate with change as it presents itself. Daddy knows that he has been hostage to grandad’s memory, but rather than erode it in order to heal, he is committed to depositing lessons and stories about him with you in order to help you understand part of where we come from.

Does the Shoe Fit?


“Oh, I think I’ve landed

In a world I hadn’t seen

When I’m feeling ordinary

When I don’t know what I mean”

 (Coldplay – Head Full of Dreams)

Cleaning out a classroom or office at the end of a year is nothing out of the ordinary. Feeling nervous about opening something that was given to you more than a year earlier is.

In 2015 I was given the exciting and equally terrifying opportunity to be Acting Principal for a term while ours was on a sabbatical. I remember feeling stunned and honoured to be asked if I wanted to undertake the task, but soon felt the corporeal response in me as the gravity of what was involved sank in. What I can say with every degree of confidence is that the stint ‘in the chair’ had a huge impact on me emotionally and aspirationally.

I remember trying to conceive what it might be like, predict what might happen and envision who and what I would have to become in order to act with reason, integrity and trustworthy leadership. I figured I couldn’t entirely be myself. I had to acknowledge the unique personal and situational factors that would shape my experience. I was taking up the post in my current school and so many things about the place were familiar to me – people, places, routines and general processes. Would that be an advantage? I am a consultative and collaborative school leader and value the experience, thinking and contributions of others. Could I continue to be that person but not interfere with other people’s business knowing ultimate responsibility for the school lay with me? I am reflective and proceed with work in a considered fashion. How would I cope if I needed to make snap decisions or take decisive action? I wrestled with these in the lead-up to the experience, during it and in my reflections since.

I had some coaching to prepare me for the opportunity. I was made aware of any significant meetings, pending decisions, matters of business, looming deadlines and I had constructed a sense of what it could be like from observing our Headmaster at work, through literature I had read and from speaking with others in comparable positions. I was very grateful for this. The reality was significantly more complex and challenging than I anticipated. I learnt a lot about myself. With new responsibilities and with new tasks I quickly discovered what I could do and what I struggled with, how I had to work with others differently, how I would have to communicate differently and how I would need think in new strategic and whole-school ways. It was learning, albeit at a very steep gradient.

A few weeks into the role, a mysterious and pretty looking box was left on my temporary desk. I remember studying it for some time wondering what on earth it could be. It wasn’t my birthday. I hadn’t done anything to warrant a gift. Had we had school visitors who wanted to leave behind a token of appreciation? I don’t tend to enjoy surprises, so cautiously lifted the latch which sealed the box. Like a curious kid I slowly opened the lid and sat perplexed at what greeted me. On the top, partially obscuring the items beneath it was a card.


I sat trying to digest the sentiments expressed inside the card. A colleague who I rarely have anything to do with had taken the time and effort to craft some very touching words about how they had faith in me, they were behind me and I was appreciated by the community. Beneath the card were a number of trinkets (click on the image to see more closely), emblematic of how my colleague perceived the pressures of Principalship.

How did my colleague’s perceptions match my reality? Here is what I discovered;

  • It can be very lonely at the top. Some things remain at the top, should be at the top and need to be worked through at the top. This isn’t necessarily because of a trust deficit, but more to do with the responsibility of the portfolio of work and accountabilities. I had to become equally comfortable with occupying the public face of the school, interacting with a wide array of people and groups, and at times becoming the background, allowing others to do their work and act with freedom and responsibility.
  • I had to accept that I would be the focus of some conversations, speculation and a new range of behaviours and reactions from the community as I assumed this new position. I do not mean this is an egotistical way, more as an acceptance that it is was matter of fact. My visibility and activity altered and that was noticeable. It left me feeling uneasy in a context with established norms, reputations and relationships. This left me feeling anxious, not to please, be accepted or receive affirmation, but getting a sense of how people would receive me when returning to a role I love, had worked hard at and crafted over time. I had to be treated differently for the term but didn’t want be looked at differently.
  • It takes remarkable courage. We have all encountered the Headteacher/Principal figure whether from our school days, from work or both. They symbolise something significant in the educative experience. Diplomatic or authoritative, visionary or operational, limelight-seeking or quiet, they shape culture and do work that is remarkably challenging and takes courage in many forms. I will not sit in judgement of any Principal/Headteacher. Whatever context the school is in, what I have discovered is that what they face is complex and sometimes invisible. There is much to be admired about them and much to be learnt about courage.
  • It left me feeling vulnerable. The challenges I encountered raised my blood pressure, made me weep, made me laugh, filled me with excitement and fulfilment, prevented me from eating on occasion, struggle to switch off, be deprived of sleep and question my capabilities. I became aware of performing my performativity and this was energy sapping. This might be a reflection of my skill and readiness for heading up a school or it could be simply circumstantial.

The generous and thoughtful gift from my colleague resides on my desk and stands as a reminder that despite my personal preconceptions of the role, others have perceptions of me and Principalship that I cannot control and I have to be comfortable with that. My challenge is dealing with being comfortable with being uncomfortable and the uncertainty of a role of this magnitude. I am not sure whether being the head of a school is my path, but like lifting the latch of the box, I am not completely closed on the possibility one day.



Gratitude and the Horizon

Another year in school is done (at least in Australia anyway) and so begins a time for myself and many other teachers to have some rest and switch off from work mode for a while. I find it quite hard to switch off immediately although I know I need to. Winding down is gradual. I tend to reflect a fair bit as part of the process, thinking about what was or wasn’t achieved this last year, what I have learnt and what I can be thankful for. I have decided to focus in this piece on my learning and what and who I am grateful for. On Twitter I try to do my bit to share what I am learning,  thinking, researching or reading. I also like to acknowledge the thoughts and generosity of those who do the same by committing to blogging, share their work and draw attention to matters that I feel strongly about.

Normally I am not a ‘list person’, but in this reflection, I am going to share ‘five lists of five’. Why five I m not sure. The lists consist of people, ideas, opportunities and work that I am thankful for in 2016 as they have all challenged my thinking, influenced my blogging, provided me some hope in education, offered support for the work I do in my school and importantly, kept my mind and heart open to possibilities rather than fixed on some educational event horizon or protracted debate where no ground is being made. My work leading teaching, learning, coaching and research in my school keeps me well and truly occupied, but I have been interested in, frustrated by or dumfounded by issues this year such as the ‘quality’ agenda, what does/does not count as research and evidence, the seemingly exponential infiltration of edubusinesses into many aspects of education (products, conferences, technology systems etc.) and the slow-dancing of some sections of the profession with self-appointed ‘experts’ and pseudo celebrity-like eduguru’s peddling their merchandise or ideology.

Before I get started … Disclaimer – I understand that we tend to gravitate towards those we find affinity with, but sometimes even those folk have a deep well of challenges for us, not just confirmation and affirmation. You might get sick of all the links, but it is my attempt to share and connect people and ideas (if you wish to engage them). Let me be clear, this is not intended to be some love-in or me propagating platitudinous guff.

  1. Blogs:

I enjoy reading many people’s ideas, reflections and reviews. Among the hundreds I have read this year, the following five pieces have really made me pause, ask difficult questions and gain some clarity:

  • The Transcendent Educator and the Curious Case of Educational Boards – in which Marten Koomen raises important questions about the murkiness and potential conflict of interests of high profile folk in education sitting in and across multiple professional bodies, think tanks, awarding bodies etc. and who have significant sway in shaping educational discourse and even policy formulation.
  • Do Teachers Care Too Much? is a deeply moving piece by Naomi Barnes in which she broaches the terrifying responsibility of being a teacher; caring about students, advocating for them, never knowing what might happen from one day to the next and the emotional exhaustion that our profession creates in us;
  • Holding Out For a Hattie by Corinne Campbell challenges the ‘hero teacher’ trope, unhelpful binaries and hollow evangelism of eduguru’s who foist the guilt-inducing ‘quality’ agenda on us. Some of their espousals and mantra’s disenfranchise elements of the profession but would have you believe that if you don’t subscribe to the kool aide, you are clearly missing something. We aren’t;
  • What ‘no excuses’ and ‘zero tolerance’ really means by Linda Graham tackles a common discourse (it seems) across edutwitter (and perhaps further afield), in approaches to discipline, behaviour management and the ways in which this is articulated locally through school policies and it’s engagement with families and community around expectations and their philosophical stance;
  • Defining Teacher Professionalism is a powerful recollection of Jean-Louis Dutaut’s College of Teaching address in May this year. He talks about the deprofessionalisation of educators as a result of multiple layers of bureaucracy and calls for a teacher and researcher-led profession that recognises our work, breaks the chain of circling wagons and has us leading the directions of education by ‘flipping the system’ and speaking up into the decisions from the ground-up.

2. Books:

I read profuse amounts for both my role requirements and personal interest. I try to ensure that I keep abreast of as wide and varied array of material as possible so as not to logjam my thinking with too much bias. The following five books have stood out and resonated with me. They all brilliantly articulate their central messages, raise critical questions about issues, players, politics and democracy on the educational landscape. They also offer practical solutions and suggestions for transparency, positive change and a reinvigorated discourse on issues that range from individual teachers to the workforce, students to testing regimes, ethics to philosophy.

3. Papers/Studies:

I try to keep across what my role needs me to be aware of theoretically, practically and necessarily and enable me to learn from engaging with research. The following five papers/studies (sorry if any are paywalled) have deeply challenged me, affirmed the work of my school and created clarity in my thinking about forces that shape education and work of teachers and leaders for better or worse. These works have implications for professional practice at all levels from the classroom to policy levels.

4. Experiences and challenges that I have enjoyed in 2016;

  • Learning from others – there are simply too many to mention, but I have been challenged and caused to reflect on all manner of educational matters by the likes of Danny Brown, Tim O’Brien, Stew Riddle, Andrea Stringer, Tomaz Lasic, Matt Esterman, Mercedes Schneider, Mark Johnson and Donelle Batty to name a few;
  • #educoachOC – it has been a joy this year to co-moderate the monthly chat, designed to pull together educators embedding coaching practices in their respective contexts and sharing reflections, research and ideas. Enormous thanks go to Corinne Campbell, Deb Netolicky and Chris Munro for their support, commitment and hard work;
  • Harvard Project Zero, Shore School Sydney – presenting at, and attending this conference was a treat. Organised by the amazing Cam Paterson, we saw Australian teachers share practice in the areas of cultures of thinking and other aligned Harvard projects;
  • Co-presenting at Education Nation – teaming up with Corinne Campbell allowed us both to explore and present on the topic of coaching in education and teacher agency. Drawing heavily on the work of Biesta, Priestley and Robinson (2015), we were able to challenge the participants with the idea of iterative practice and professional identity formation;
  • Working at my wonderful school – with great leadership, colleagues and a vision and direction that I am proud to be part of.

5. What am I looking forward to in 2017?

  • Blogs: I am really looking forward to more blogging from folk who give me hope, champion causes that matter greatly and really interest me. In particular, the brilliant Natalie Scott, Charlotte Pezaro, Aaron Davies, Nancy Gedge and Whatonomy;
  • An eye on technology: Ben Williamson is doing some stunning work out of the University of Sterling keeping an eye on the pervasive and sometimes uncritical consumption of technology in education. He writes particularly on the influence of powerful mergers of corporations, platforms and products and the impact they have on data and privacy of students and school communities. You can read his blog here;
  • Flip The System: I am excited by the forthcoming Flip The System book focused on the UK and future editions from other countries. I am committed to this movement as a strong supporter of building the conditions for heightening teacher agency, sharing ideas and collaborating on work that make a positive difference for the workforce and students;
  • More watchdog-like activity on corporatising education: the sometimes covert manoeuvres of business and for-profit models of education seem to be rampant around the globe. I look forward to contributions from the likes of Mercedes Schneider, Education International (EI) and Chris Lubienski to keep us across what is being happening, where and by who, and raise our awareness through exposing practices that would see profit prioritised before educational good;
  • Writing another reflection that would suggest a successful and fulfilling year has just passed.

Congratulations for getting this far. Profuse apologies if this came across as an Oscar’s acceptance speech, saccharine-sick and replete with unconnected fragments of my year that looks like some polyvalent mind has been at work. I assure you it has been a challenging but fulfilling year. I fully appreciate that you may not be interested in the same people and work that I am, but I am pleased that there is great diversity and plurality of thought and perspectives here in Australia, and in other folk around the world. I hope 2016 finishes well for you.

PISA Hits Snake Mountain

(Skeletor) “Beast Man, Trap Jaw, Mer-Man, Evil Lyn, get in here now you clots!”

(Evil Lyn) “Yes boss, what is it?”

(Skeletor) “How in Heaven’s name do you explain these PISA figures? We’ve fallen behind Eternia.”

(Trap Jaw) “Ugh dunno boss.”

(Skeletor) “What do you mean you don’t know? How have we performed so badly? What’s wrong with these teachers? I want a full scale Inquiry!”

(Mer-Man) “That wouldn’t do any good boss, it’s proven ineffective.”

(Skeletor) “Hey? What is it with you, can’t you follow direct instruction?”

(Beast Man) “Ah yes, sure. What do you want us to tell the rest of the teaching staff? We’re mandating instructional approaches? Doing more testing? Pile on the guilt with the full arsenal of analyses? Blame specific parts of the realm for underperformance?”

(Skeletor) “Are you kidding me? Let the media do all the hack work building public scrutiny, apply proper pressure through performance related pay, inviting Eternian teachers in to show us how to do the job properly, and if that don’t work, get creative, no excuses!”

(Evil Lyn) “You sure that’s wise boss, you’ll make them feel uniformed and substandard.”

(Skeletor) “Just tell em!”


(Skeletor) “Beast Man, now the teachers are distracted by the media and the public fallout, start greasing the cogs and get things in place for the next two years. If we play our cards right, we can commission a massive edubusiness to tell us what we already know by making up some test for stuff that doesn’t exist, and the thinktanks can go into overdrive to promulgate research that confirms what politicians want to hear and see happen.”

(Evil Lyn) “Ok boss, so a bit of fast policy? Anything in it for us?”

(Skeletor) “Ah, just some visibility, the chance to dominate the education debate with our cleverly coordinated blogging and PR juggernaut and cut a share in some fait accompli deals and policies. Not much.”

(Evil Lyn) “Sweet. I love for-profit education.”

(Skeletor) “Yep, and we can camouflage deeper issues with quick fixes, silver bullets and tin foil for pomme de terre’s.”

(Evil Lyn) “Ha ha, there’s a book in that, genius boss.”

(Skeletor) “Already done you oaf! We wrote it last year, didn’t you get the memo?”

(Evil Lyn) “You crafty Neo-Marxist!”

Observation-Theory Tensions

My professional practice often has me thinking about the ‘observation-theory’ relationship, particularly in light of post humanism that alerts us to the language we use, and the language we reject. These reflections also bring to mind how Popper used to say ‘observation is always observation in light of theories … conventionalism is a system which is self-contained and defensible’. So on the one hand there is the rightful need for accountability within a system that is self-contained. Then on the other hand there is the justified demand for innovation and creativity that necessarily lie outside these systems. How does the practice of teacher observation reconcile these tensions?

Professional action is at the forefront of the agenda of education at the moment and professional action needs to be justified and defended. There is a case made by some that nothing should be left to chance. But many commentators are punch-drunk on myth-busting, fad-smashing and having an epiphany about the fact that were led up the garden path and were wrong. They critique the part without addressing the whole. As Ball states (2015), we need to question the ‘necessarian logic’ espoused by policy entrepreneurs, so-called ‘experts’ and those that create the murky swamp that is a business-like or medicalised view of education and ‘what counts’ and ‘what works’. It is made all the more problematic when professional associations are prone to mergers and adopt a myopic view of what teaching can and should be visible as, even what education should be.

My professional practice and work with coaching partnerships suggests Australian Professional Standards for Teachers are not able to address these tensions. There are others who feel the same.

What really grabs me is the emphasis placed on the complex business of observing for the purpose of determining the quality of teaching. All Teachers have at some point engaged with some kind of educational theory and educational research on learning. There are bog-standard positions floating around at conferences and across edutwitter about ‘proxies for learning’ and also about the problematic of observing – but this seems to be predicated on naming and noticing desired observable features of lessons as measured by some version of student action or outcome. We then tend to ascribe some performative judgement about effectiveness with a side-dish of feedback and advice about ‘how to actually do it’ – corrective action if you will. Of course, we have our gaze fixed on the learning, but correcting the professional action of teachers.

For me this is problematic and lays bare gaps in the observation-theory relationship. If we are consumed by the essential need to use scientific approaches to teaching and student learning, how then do we control for the invariant element, the students? This might bother those who lean ostensibly on science and evidence to design out inconsistencies or the possible problems with not seeing what was intended. The language we use to describe anything that cannot be qualified or quantified seems to be rejected. Do we really want the privilege of observing colleagues to be reduced to a process of technocratic solutions and one-off judgements over a mosaic of practice over several episodes and dialogue about reflection leading to growth? There is a risk of an unacknowledged shift from ‘input legitimacy’ (values and purposes) to ‘output legitimacy’ (standards and performance) (Ball, 2015) at the expense of professional agency because of the educational ‘impatience’ to get results (Biesta, 2015).

I have a problem with a direct ‘just tell them’ approach to feedback on teaching, especially when it is either discipline or professional knowledge that is the subject in question. Teaching is an object of study that is complex and multi-faceted. Criteria of validity seems insufficient but also pre-ordained, thus stultifying the right of a teacher to research and professionally form iteratively. If observing teaching is about studying the phenomena of learning, then technical control of the process is surely the focus of observation. However, if we lean ostensibly on cognitive science to help us understand and plan for successful predictions of learning, do we have complete certainty? I am not uncertain.

So there might be an empiricist relation between the language of observation and theoretical language of practice, but there needs to be a reflexive relation between the two in order to explore the potential of practice. Conventionalism eschews uncertainty, but teaching is not that simple and neither is categorising teachers according to how conventional they are. That is also not right. Professional action operates in the domain of the variable not the eternal. That’s because we are working with people, not inanimate objects which can be manipulated to suit a desired outcome.

A Classroom Career – Something to be Proud of

There is absolutely nothing wrong with wanting a career in the classroom.

There shouldn’t be the pressure to fall into a leadership slipstream or feel inadequate as colleagues overtake you in the outside lane to responsibility and accountability. Slow and steady, thoughtful and reflective teaching is a great path in and of itself and can make a significant difference to children and builds a fulfilling career that we can be proud of. The perceived determinacy of a clear route through ‘standards’ followed perhaps by a ‘path to leadership’ shouldn’t be foisted on everyone as it can marginalise some with alternate aspirations. Pressure is performative as Taubman (2009) notes;

‘the rhetoric of blame and fear and the promulgation of heroic narratives of exemplary teachers, which, coupled with the wide-spread use of tests, render teachers and teacher educators susceptible to the language of policy and the lure of business practices …”

There should be no requirement for a PR juggernaut of self-promotion, timed tweets talking things into existence or coordinated blogs or social-media espousals with colleagues to extol the virtues of what you do. Loving your craft, loving your subject, supporting your students and exploring practice needs no huge fanfare. After all, not everyone wants or needs a pedistal to be seen, heard and appreciated.

We shouldn’t need the backing of politicians or bloggers, support of research pumped out by thinktanks or have written a book to be doing a good job. Nor do we need to be flying drones, rolling some ball-like device around the floor, behave like a pirate, ascribe digital badges for behaviour or jump into some chat to be connected, have original thoughts or a view that isn’t going to be picked up by others and crush us into submission and change our mind with some epiphany.

We don’t need to be fully conversant in a particular field of research or evidence to be informed, at least by some popular definitions in educational discussions. BUT, do engage with research and keep an open mind about your assumptions regarding practice. Just because we don’t hit the taxonomic heights of some edujargon or scream passion, it doesn’t render us or our views meaningless.

Teaching is very complex. The multiple functions, forms and facets of our practice shouldn’t be redacted into narrow judgements or inspectorial slights. Being empathetic, humble, attentive to student needs and building purposeful working relationships cannot be measured. In a time of impatience and rush to justify every action and reaction in our classrooms and schools, taking time to appreciate the immense privilege is important. The stories and experiences that walk into our classrooms each and every day (yours included) can’t be retrofitted into some equation or formula. It’s more complex than that. That’s why staying in the classroom, being patient, watching, listening, supporting others, continually learning and developing a craft is absolutely fine.

Calling Time

In a room of excitable 4 or 5 year olds and their expectant parents sits a man who is on the verge of something monumental.

Our youngest daughters Pre-Prep (Kindergarten) teacher is preparing to retire in a few weeks after 42 years of service to education, particularly in early childhood. I cannot begin to fathom the process he must have endured to finally reconcile with himself that it was time to ‘call time’.

Misty eyed parents and carers stood transfixed while a video of the year in review was shown. Glancing around me I noticed folk smile, laugh and some wipe away tears as photos of their child appear before them. Snapshots of Japanese lessons, Art projects, reading, writing, play, special events and community engagement reminded all who were in attendance what an enriching and fulfilling year these little people have had. It was also emotional for some of us as we come to the realisation that our children’s first year in an educational setting is drawing to a close.

Following the video our children’s teacher spoke with us collectively. For just a few precious minutes we were invited (through words and sentiments) into the heart and mind of a man who articulated his sincere gratitude that we have allowed him to have such a formative and influential role in (for some) the first educational and socialising experience for their child. It is humbling to witness.

He spoke of the ‘terrifying responsibility’ and ‘immeasurable privilege’ it has been to watch them grow, learn languages, play instruments, explore ideas and concepts, make and play, write and draw, develop relationships and build a culture of thinking and responsibility. While this is the end for him, it is one more beginning for a cohort of young people with whom he has worked. In his own words his work has always been about developing ‘roots before branches’.

Both of our daughters have been fortunate to have had this man as their first experience of a teacher. His gentleness and patience, empathy and attention to the individual needs of our children have been deeply appreciated. He has created in our girls a sense of wonder about the world and love of school and learning.

I am not capable of mustering the words to fully describe what ‘calling time’ on a life in education must be like. It is ridiculous to think that I could. Crass categorisations of teacher effectiveness or quality fall woefully short in the face of a life in the service of our youngest students. As I write this brief reflection and consider the impact this deeply committed, informed and graceful teacher has had on our children, I am reminded of the following observation by Jennifer Nias (1996)

“Teachers have hearts and bodies, as well as heads and hands, though the deep and unruly nature of their hearts is governed by their heads, by the sense of moral responsibility for students and the integrity of their subject matter which are at the core of their professional identity…Teachers are emotionally committed to many different aspects of their jobs.”

 Thank you my good man. Thank you for giving our girls roots before branches.

Unforgivingly Complex

I have been fortunate to be part of an international forum of educators and students in Japan this week. The teachers have enjoyed talking and sharing examples of professional practice that are making a difference in their setting but also making observations of larger scale processes and policies at work in their countries. Recurring themes have included school alignment and accountability, the use of evidence in education and teachers engaging with research. I am reminded of Deb Netolicky’s recent post about ‘Personal and Organisational Vision in Schools’. The piece drives at the heart of an interesting challenge. If what a system or organisation expects in the way of thinking and working is strictly evidence-based, limited to narrow fields of research but set true towards well-intentioned goals, what scope (or need) is there for teachers to exercise their own professional judgement about practice and research directions?

Schools and even systems seem to be driven to articulate goals or benchmarks and justify them by espousing their research and evidence-base. I can understand why some can be reticent to squander precious time, resources and expertise in pursuit of impacts which are incalculable, add little value or where progress is hard to detect. It is not surprising then that many in education are keen to see professional action as ‘treatment’ (they intervene in a particular situation) in order to bring about certain desirable ‘effects’. So why do anything if there is not a secure relationship between the intervention (as cause) and its outcome (the effect)?

I dare say that the reason why politicians and others in the field are getting punch-drunk on ‘what works’ is the seduction of rapid fixes translated into concrete means with measurable outcomes. However, professional action operates in the domain of the variable, not the eternal. So surely research provides technical possibilities, not certainties.

There is certainly an appetite for research engagement and evidence use in schools. I wonder though how much attraction there is towards abstract technocratic models where it is assumed that the only relevant research questions are those regarding effectiveness or to which the answers have already been obtained through some ‘gold-standard’ methodology or trial. Acceptance of ‘what works’ at any level limits the opportunities for educational practitioners to make judgements about research which is relevant and sensitive to their context. Dylan Wiliam reminds us of some important caveats such as ‘research can only tell us what was, not what might be’ and ‘in education ‘what works?’ is rarely the right question. The right question is ‘under what conditions does this work?’ In the same vein David Berliner (2002) suggests that it is important for schools to pose questions of and for themselves as opposed to transplanting and applying thinking and action that is removed from their context.

Some schools prefer to consume and apply pre-packaged research with ready-to-roll out methodologies with costs/benefits clearly articulated. This may well address immediate or long-standing needs and provide the validating evidence to justify engagement with the intervention. However, are they carefully considering the fidelity of the accessed research or the scope for interchangeability of contexts? Biesta (2007) echoes the need for critical discussion around evidence in education and notes;

“One positive outcome of these ongoing discussions is that some proponents of an evidence-based approach in education have begun to talk in a more nuanced way about the link between research, policy, and practice, using notions such as ‘‘evidence-informed,’’ ‘‘evidence-influenced,’’ and ‘‘evidence-aware’’ practice … but there is a real need to widen the scope of our thinking about the relationship between research, policy, and practice, so as to make sure that the discussion is no longer restricted to finding the most effective ways to achieve certain ends but also addresses questions about the desirability of the ends themselves.”

It is clear that other schools rupture the afore-mentioned ‘secure relationship’ by generating their own questions about practice and process and are keen to see growth and improvement in outcomes beyond those for which ‘what works’ has already been worked out. This, I would argue, doesn’t make them professionally negligent and ignorant or irresponsible mavericks, they could simply be choosing a field of research and evidence and a set of practices which is suited for their contexts.

Abstaining from embracing someone else’s evidence doesn’t mean that you are necessarily wading through a morass of reheated strategies for improvement or the room 101 of interventions/innovations that lack research integrity or evidence. Schools and individuals shouldn’t have to genuflect and sidle up to someone else’s research or evidence imprimatur because it is what everyone else is doing or because it is an organisational or system expectation. Being able to access research and conduct research itself, shouldn’t be a fight or reduce what we are and do to narrow metrics. When teaching practice and teachers at any scale is reduced to ‘evidence tells us’ or ‘you should be doing’, we should remind ourselves of this gem from Cochrane-Smith (2003);

“Teaching is unforgivingly complex. It is simply not good or bad, right or wrong, working or failing. Although absolutes and dichotomies such as these are popular in the headlines … they are limited in their usefulness … They ignore almost completely the nuances of ‘good’ (or bad) teaching of real students collected in actual classrooms in the context of particular times and places. They mistake reductionism for clarity, myopia for insight”.

Edubusiness Partnerships – La Bocca della Verita?

Bocca della Verita. Heard of it? Translated it means the Mouth of Truth and is an iconic piece of Rome’s ancient history. It is a carving of a frightening face with an open mouth that is hewn from Pavonazzo marble and can be found in the portico of the church of Santa Maria in Cosmedin in Rome. Legend has it that anyone who places their hand in the mouth who has told a lie or has questionable intentions, will have it bitten off. It was immortalised in the 1953 film Roman Holiday staring Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck. There is a scene in the film that see’s Peck placing his right hand inside the mouth. Peck and Hepburn are not initially truthful with one another about their respective identities (princess and a down-on-his-luck expatriate American journalist) but go on to milk the chance meeting to mutually benefit a situation; she wishes to break from her royal duties and live a little of a normal life and he (going undercover) is keen for an interview (the big scoop) with the royal which will land him a $5000 pay check.

Romantic as this all seems, the motives soon become apparent and all manner of folk on both sides are given the run-around and the film ends with normality sadly being restored, with Peck left to ponder what might have been.

Relationships between the profession, edubusinesses and representative bodies are fascinating. They become increasingly murky and opaque when what is at stake is policy formation, an ideology pushed or the same players, straplines and products trotted out to ‘enhance’ our work, inform us more ‘accurately’ or saturate our valuable professional learning time with ‘we have done the thinking for you’.

The reach and market share of organisations such as Corwin, Pearson, Visible Learning etc. is considerable. Their ability to mobilise their brand through individuals, professional bodies and conferences is something to behold. As Hogan, Lingard and Sellar (2013) state;

“Their enhanced significance is linked to the emergence of what Urry (2007, p. 197) defines network capital as “the capacity to engender and sustain social relations with those people who are not necessarily proximate and which generates emotional, financial and practical benefit (although this will often entail various objects and technologies or the means of networking)”. The ability to network is not evenly distributed and requires specific resources. Position in a network, and ultimately power, is dependent on mobilities of different kinds. Mobilities are not necessarily about travel, but rather the movement of people, ideas, objects and information, what Appadurai (1996) referred to as “flows.”

Marten Koomen brilliantly points out that some key figures transcend organisations and mobilise ideas to multiple audiences or camouflage products and philosophy through rhetoric. They have access to the most prominent platforms and opportunities. “Networks across senior educators are of course a lot broader, deeper and opaque operating not only at the board level but also through conference attendance, keynote addresses and participation in consultative groups and workshops”. Such people include Tony Mackay, Tony Cook and John Hattie. You can see the boards across which they traverse in Marten’s post.

What bothers me is that these deeply influential people who possess and mobilise extensive network influence and penetrate huge educational conversations and decisions, may be going unchallenged by the profession at large. Why is this? Are we satisfied with being told what works, what to use, when to do what, what to read, whose research to consume and believe, how to professionally develop and what to think? I sense some brooding resistance on social media, but to what extent are these kernels of pushback being heard and engaged with? How can alternate views of what education can and should be achieve the aim of influencing at the upper echelons of educational narrative in mainstream media? How can we achieve equitable access to opportunities to speak into the educational debate on a large scale without being festooned with life-size posters of edu-guru’s flanking us?

Educational goals which use vernacular such as ‘one years learning from every years teaching’, could lead us to think that those who make such bold proclamations are in the market for systemic support and resources. Why wouldn’t departments sniff out solutions which are all-in-one; a raft of best-selling texts, off-the-shelf research, data management systems, teaching resources, accreditation/certification or leadership modules. Why wouldn’t a department be magnetised to those providers who vigorously market their brand at conferences, across social-media and have the backing or lead from prominent educators? It could also be advantageous if the purchased partnership aligned you with other key players in the markets and gave the impression of systemic provision for improvement and performance and a relatively uncontested field of evidence to justify ones position.

I’m all for professional bodies amalgamating their work as long as the profession is fully involved rather than the recipients of ‘best-in-class’ pre-packaged training that is considered or assumed to be precise, transplantable and contextually neutral. Could ACEL’s newly announced partnership with Corwin be an example of this?

No-one is likely to have their hand bitten off in a metaphorical Bocca della Verita for trying to advance education, but let’s at least be clear about intentions, who is involved and desirable outcomes, outcomes that professionalise us rather than beholden to a business model.