Yo-Yo Pricing: The New Revised Deadline

Year 2 and 6 teachers - today we all became victims of 'Yo-Yo Pricing'.

The biggest education news in the last 24 hours is of course Nick Gibb's confirmation that "the department would listen to the concerns raised by the sector regarding the deadlines for this year’s assessments at key stage 1 and 2...". The department's response? They have introduced "a new revised deadline of 30 June for both."  

'Yo-Yo Pricing' is a standard trick in the aisles of this country's supermarkets. Here's a definition of it: A product is sold at an inflated price for a limited period at low volume in just a few stores, then rolled out across all stores at the lower price. So, a pack of hot cross buns (let's keep this seasonal) is emblazoned with a '50p off' sticker, suggesting great value for money, and we all buy two packets because they're such a bargain. What we don't know is that's actually just the normal intended price and that for a week, at the back of a handful of stores, they were selling hot cross buns (out of season) for 50p more than the 'new price'. It's a great swizz.

 And so is the "new revised deadline". Let's cast our minds back, ooh, say, a year? When was the old un-revised deadline? 26th June. And all of a sudden, with a bit of yo-yo pricing, low and behold, the new revised deadline is 30th June. Yes, it came via 27th May, but that's the equivalent of the product which is sold at an inflated price for a limited period at low volumes in just a few stores, isn't it? They've not conceded anything. It's just gone back to how it was before. It smacks of being a pre-meditated political bargaining chip. Maybe the conversation went like this:

DfE bod 1: We know they'll complain, and unions will probably make ultimatums, so let's make sure we've got something we are happy to change to show that we're listening to them.

DfE bod 2: How about we pretend that we're changing the teacher assessment data deadline and then when they do complain, we can just put it back to when it used to be?

DfE bod 1: Good idea. Was that minuted? We'll just wait until the unions wade in before we action it though, OK?

DfE bod 2: Sorted. Once we've 'relented' on that they've not got a leg to stand on, have they? They won't be able to say we didn't listen.

Maybe I'm being too skeptical. Maybe the DfE will make more revisions to their proposals but as it stands, I'm not going to be dazzled by today's display of apparent concern and acquiescence. Maybe it wasn't even as intentional as I imagine, but make no mistake: this is yo-yo pricing. Yes, I'm glad that, just like all the years before now, we'll have another month of teaching and assessment time before we have to submit teacher assessment data, but since when has the status quo been anything to write home about?

Really all we're ending up with is this:

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The Orangery

As with the impressive glass roof, the people were long gone. The barren orange trees that once grew there prophesied the eventual end of the family. With no heir the once-impressive gothically-styled house fell into disrepair. Now, all that was left, lying forgotten in woodland, was the orangery.

It was a place for the landed gentry to stroll once they had tired of the paintings hung in the house. A place for guests to experience the wealth of the family, and for the family to quietly congratulate themselves on their own success. Ill-gotten gains. Those four walls, through vast glass panes, saw finery, laughter and scandalous stolen moments between lovers who never should have been.

These days though, occasional dog walkers and teenage couples aside, the crumbling brickwork witnessed very little life, its eyes long ago put out. The straggling ivy, intent on survival, like a poor relation; a taunting reminder of the building's history of exotic flora. But the orangery didn't seem to mind. It stood upright like a proud old military man still living his life as if on parade despite his ailments. And it knew. It knew the secret so often overlooked by its infrequent visitors.

For in one corner, one tree remained. Two if you looked closely: the trunk of a lemon tree intertwined with that of a pomegranate tree. And, looking closer still, you would see their faces pressed together in one final kiss, eyes closed in blissful ignorance of the power the orangery held over them. The power of knowing what was meant to be unknown, the power of seeing what was supposed to go unseen. The power to ensure the family's downfall.

Of course it could have allowed the scandal to come to light, as inevitably they all do. But then, where was the satisfaction in allowing nature to take its course? No, it knew the one remaining successor must not survive to continue committing the family's atrocities. Even its own grandeur and ornate stonework told of the abominations carried out by them. It had heard their conversations. It knew of the ships, the trade, even the transport conditions. Its own rows of fruit trees, hibiscus plants and other foreign wonders were a constant and stark reminder of what the family were doing. Forcefully taken. Yes, the next-in-line had to be the last in line.

And the orangery shows no remorse. It stands innocently, only eliciting rose-tinted imaginings of times gone by. For if it reminded us of what really went on, then it would be giving away its secret. And we'd like to forget all about it, thank you very much. 

Photo and inspiration courtesy of @abbiemann1982

Revealing True Colours

I entered into the #teacher5aday29dayswriting challenge knowing that time and inspiration might be obstacles but feeling confident that I could overcome them. Even so, I've been surprised at how, by evening time, something has inspired me everyday to write. I go through the day alert, waiting for a glimpse of the next spark: the one that will ignite and eventually become something more.

Today I've been reading 'The Kite Runner' by Khaled Hosseini; a quote caught my attention:

"Children aren't colouring books. You don't get to fill them with your favourite colours."

This spoken to the father of the book's protagonist with regards to the father's disappointment that the boy has not followed in his footsteps as he would have liked.

Remember those 'colouring' books you had as a child? The magic ones where you'd simply brush over the outline with water and the colours would mysteriously appear. I think possibly children are those. The colours are all there already, hidden, and we educators have the responsibility of revealing the already-present hues. We have the task of coaxing out the in-built characteristics, the ones that their DNA have gifted them with. The tones that make them who they are. Not all of the colours will be beautiful to every beholder.

My daughters love colouring books. But often, once the picture is satisfactorily coloured, they will add flowers and trees and sunshines and rainbows to further enhance the image. I think as we are drawing out a child's natural skills, abilities, feelings and preferences we will, to some extent, impart some of our own. Some of these will stick, some will fall by the way. But through interaction with parents, teachers, friends, peers and others, the image of a child will also feature some of those embellishments that my daughters love to add. Not all of them will make the picture look better in everyone's eyes

We can't treat children like a fresh sheet of A4 - we don't have to start from scratch. Nor are teachers required to take a Dr. Frankenstein role, creating cut-and-paste collage children from a mish-mash of educational theories. If we decide to approach children as we might a colouring book then at best by the end of each year we might have classes of mini Miss Smith clones, for example, rather than a class of individuals. Children are individuals and (in the cheesiest moment of this whole blog so far) we, to paraphrase Phil Collins, should want to see their true colours shining through. Once we see them, and understand who they are, then we can begin to make suggested additions: Rahim is really good at drawing, so perhaps I'll show him how to use a painting app on the tablets so he can easily share his images online. Ayesha always brings in really tasty baked goods; let's also develop her instructional writing so she can write recipes. Knowing a child's uniquity and interests will give us the opportunity to add more colour to their palette, but never should it be because they are our favourite colours. Just because you're football-mad, it doesn't mean that you can foist that on your class. Not all children (not even all boys) are football-coloured.

The illustration of the magic painting books falls down when it comes to wielding that watery paintbrush. As a child it was simple: dip paintbrush in jam jar of water, brush on page. Job done. With teaching it's not that simple; it takes an artist. We are all artists. And it's all about our brushstrokes, and our choice of brush, and the temperature of the water. But remember, the colours are all there somewhere and we have to get creative in order to reveal them.

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The Pedagogy of 'Zog'

"Now that you've been shown, you can practise on your own
And you'll all be expert fliers by the time you're fully grown."

That's the pedagogy of Madame Dragon in Julia Donaldson's 'Zog'. Every time I read it I wonder if teaching really is that simple.

At a recent Talk for Writing training session it was said that "If you're not modelling reading, then you're not teaching reading" and I agree. I am strong advocate of whole-class reading where the teacher models aloud the thoughts of a reader - why did he say that? What does that word mean? I wonder if...? In writing too: if the children haven't seen how a writer works, its hard for them to be one - they need to see how a writer re-reads and edits, considers word choice, sentence structure and so on. So in a sense, Julia Donaldson is right to portray the model-then-practise approach to learning.

But in maths I often take a very different approach. At the end of this half term we had an in-house 'teach meet'. It was a really positive way to end a half term and was enjoyed by all. I challenged my colleagues to begin lessons not by standing up and 'teaching' (by which I suppose I meant modelling) but by giving the children an activity to complete first without any input. My reasons are simple: you find out quickly who can do it and who can't. In this way no child is sitting listening to something that is either too hard or too easy for them. In this way you can very quickly see who is applying previous skills and strategies and who is struggling to make links. As a result you can very quickly start making learning more bespoke: if you are prepared with extension activities then the ones who find it easy can move on, some children you will decide need to continue working, for others it will be clear that you need to intervene, and it is at this point, for these children, that you model in a small group.

In writing I like to employ the 'cold write' technique. Although more time-consuming than taking a similar approach in maths, it does, again, mean that you can tailor the subsequent learning so that you you know what to model and to whom.

So, Madame Dragon in 'Zog' was right to model how to fly as she had no doubt already assessed whether or not the young dragons could fly. I'm sure she started her lesson by saying "Good morning dragons, I'd like to see, who can fly up into that tree," and upon finding that none of them could, embarked on modelling the flying process before sending them off to practise.

I challenge you in the same way I challenged my colleagues: begin more lessons by just giving the children the task, making assessment the first job you do. Use the first five minutes to decide who needs the modelling, who needs to continue applying their skills and who needs challenging further. And then get on with the modelling but allow for plenty of practise time too.

"Now that you've been shown, you can practise on your own
And you'll all be expert ??? by the time you're fully grown."

>10%? (PPA Time)

A popular call as a solution for teachers' workload is for teachers to be given extra time at school within working hours to get more of the 'admin' done (throughout this post I will refer to planning, preparation, assessment, moderation and the like as admin). And it's not a bad idea. In fact it's something we do.

Guidelines suggest that a minimum of 10% of teaching time is given to teachers as PPA (planning, preparation and assessment), and it is a statutory right (more info here: http://www.tesfaq.co.uk/ppa#TOC-How-much-PPA-time-should-I-be-getting-). So, let's take a rough estimate of teaching time to be 25 hours meaning 2.5 hours of PPA time should be provided. Our children have 27 hours 5 mins of teaching time so our PPA time should roughly be 2 hours 45 minutes.

The first question to ask is, are you getting what you are entitled to? If not it is worth querying it with your leaders. Many teachers won't even stop to work out how much time they are owed.

The second point to consider is, is even 10% enough and what would happen if you were given more time? 

Our PPA time should be 2 hours 45 minutes, in actuality we get 3 hours 30 minutes. 45 minutes more than 10% of timetabled minimum allowance. As per guidelines this extra time is best referred to as non-contact time - it isn't protected in the same way as PPA time and as a result is designated for other meetings such as Pupil Progress Meetings and Appraisals. However such meetings occur only once or twice per term, leaving each teacher, most weeks, with the extra time to use for their own benefit. Phase Meetings take place during this time also but since all teachers in the phase plan together in one appointed room I find that the meetings become part-and-parcel of the PPA session, therefore taking up little extra time. Our PPA sessions are covered by a combination of senior leaders and HLTAs who teach PE, PSHCE and French lessons.

It's anecdotal but many of my colleagues have mentioned that they prefer to work in the mornings; it's when they feel most productive. Our long PPA sessions can only take place in the mornings. I use the hour before it starts and some of lunchtime to make the session even longer and I complete a great deal of work.

Our extra non-contact time is a gesture which is indicative of our leadership team's commitment to reducing workload. Obviously it still isn't enough time to get EVERYTHING done, but it's a helpful kickstart. The structure of our PPA time encourages collaborative working and the sessions are attended by senior leaders - our staff are vocal about how supported they feel by this set up. If you are a senior leader in a primary school I'd urge you to consider a similar scheme.

Oh, and don't forget the cake.

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Broken Hearted (On Vulnerable Love And Finding A New School)

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.”

- C.S Lewis, The Four Loves

It's probably worth reading the quote again before I go on. In fact, it may be worth reading it again, then closing this window on your browser - what am I going to be able to add to the words of a literary great? Well, perhaps I can elucidate on how the quote might pertain to teachers.

It's that second sentence - 'Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken' - that rings so true for teachers at the moment. Hearts are being broken; hearts once in love with teaching, in love with being so instrumental in the lives of so many children, in love with the creative nature of the job, in love with the fact that no two days are ever quite the same. The pressures placed on us by the ever-changing demands of the government, the fear of Ofsted and poor leadership (in some schools), not to mention the workload generated by all of this, are wringing hearts dry. Teachers are losing the love, many against their will, because the job does not love them back.

And Lewis' suggested solution? Don't love anything. Don't love teaching. But the consequence of that? Your heart will become 'unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable'. Lewis is saying that love is worth the risk of being hurt.

We must love teaching despite its riskiness. By loving teaching we will weather the storm, even though it'll be difficult. By not loving teaching, and by trying to protect ourselves by becoming indifferent, our heart for the job will grow cold and we will enjoy it less and less. We must go on loving the job, exposing ourselves, being vulnerable, but so that love itself continues. So that children go on being taught, nurtured and shaped.

It may be that working in a particular school is, in this analogy, like being in an abusive relationship, but this doesn't have to mean never loving again. A new school or situation and a fresh start can reignite love, and through making oneself vulnerable again, great love can be found. The job can love you back; it is the experience of many. I know a few teachers who, having considered leaving the profession, rather than 'locking away their hearts', have moved on and found the love again. One told me:

At my old school I felt unsupported... I felt angry about new things which were rashly implemented in the school and which I strongly disagreed with... I felt like my opinion didn't matter and an overwhelming fear that I would be the next teacher bullied and forced out of my job. There was a severe lack of organisation which strongly impacted on workload. We were often given pointless time consuming tasks and ridiculous deadlines such as the next day or a text message on a Friday night with a deadline for Monday. This created unnecessary stress.

I did consider leaving the profession as when I spoke to some teachers at other schools they too were unhappy but I felt that it was not to the extent that I was. I wrote my letter of resignation before even applying for any other job as I knew I could no longer work there. It was the first time I had ever applied for another teaching job. 

My initial impression of my new school was that the head teacher was much more personable and the teachers appeared much happier and said things like 'You'll love working here, it's a lovely school'. From day one I was given the chance to develop my career in the area of my choice and have had so much support. I also feel that I am greatly appreciated and the head often sends emails or personally thanks me for things such as putting on the harvest play - which to me means a lot! It is nice to belong to a school that I feel proud of again. Good organisation from the management means that I have a much better work/life balance and less stress as I am given plenty of warning about deadlines and I'm always given help and support if I'm unsure about anything.

Moving school is the most drastic of solutions, aside from leaving teaching altogether. If you are seeking a love of education, and your current school situation isn't loving you back then maybe extreme action is needed; another school could be reciprocal in the love you give. Another school could mend your broken heart. 

If you feel like leaving your current job would be too radical, then I wonder if some of my other blog posts would be of use to you. I have found ways to remain in love with the profession and I'm desperate to share them - I mourn the fact that so many feel unloved by this job and long to help others to a place where they are once again feel like they're in a loving relationship with teaching.

Date Night

Tonight is date night. I say that as if it's a regular fixture in our calendar but it's not. It should be though. My wife is a stay-at-home mum of three and has recently set up her own baking business. Our evenings are taken up with book marking, macaron making and house cleaning, amongst a whole host of other chores.

Evenings out are what works for us - getting out of the house is important as it stops us thinking of all the jobs that could be done and we are less likely to be distracted by technology if we're in the pub or at a restaurant. We consider going out for a meal a luxury as we can't always afford it, and it means finding a babysitter too. Tonight we're benefitting from a kind Christmas present of Zizzis vouchers and my sister is doing the honours with the children. We're really looking forward to enjoying some good food and quality time together.

Even though we don't always get to go out, we ensure that we have a weekend night together to watch a film and have a glass of wine. We also try to spend the last half an hour of each day together, just to catch up and wind down. We've learnt that if we don't do this things get strained between us and communication breaks down. The time together is essential.

If you are a teacher in a relationship then you have to prioritise time with your significant other. Thankfully I have a super-supportive wife who understands the time requirements and the pressures of the job and she enables and encourages me to use time at home effectively. But this understanding is part of a give and take relationship - sometimes I have to put the work down  clear the schedule and make time for what's important. If I never did this I don't think my wife would be inclined to be as supportive, and she'd have every right not to be! 

Having said this I know that this is the first time in five months we'll have been out for a meal together - that is not good enough. This half-term holiday I pledge to make time for more regular date nights during term time - we can't always wait for holidays! Who's with me?

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