Where Hope Grows (About Me)

After reading an excellent and uplifting blog post by @BridgemaryTL it occurred to me that not all hopeful and optimistic people are walking in pastures green; on the contrary, many are traversing what the Psalmist might have termed 'the valley of the shadow of death'. Maybe I'm being melodramatic, but it does seem, to put it crudely, and in the words of Dwight from the US Office, that 'Hope grows... in a dump!'

The insecurity inside of me, usually well-tamed by my confidence, sometimes suggests that my optimistic slant on education has many detractors. Self-doubt rears its head and trips my self-assurance, telling me, amongst other things, that passing readers of my blog will automatically think the grass is greener on my side, writing off my ideas as the idealism of the privileged.

Well they're not and @BridgemaryTL has inspired me to finally write my 'about me' spiel to debunk the theories my imaginary foes might have about me only being so optimistic because I've got a cushy job. I'll attempt to be brief and I hope it won't come off as whingey or boastful.

I am a husband and a father of three girls aged 5 and under (I make it a point to be home for bath time and bed time most nights). I hold a practical leadership position at my church (Sunday and some midweek commitments). I am an assistant head with a responsibility for maths and UKS2 (a team of 4 other teachers). I teach a 70% timetable in year 6 focusing on maths and English (with all the planning, preparation, marking, assessment and analysis that goes with it, not to mention SATs). Prior to starting this job (last September, my first leadership role) the school was inspected and rated 'Inadequate' (and the report was kind!) - I took the job knowing this. As a consequence, the behaviour of the children who have spent the longest in the school is challenging and their learning behaviours are improving but not yet consistent. Across the school, percentages of children at ARE are very low, although progress is rapid. There are still many areas of weakness in the school despite rapid improvement and my responsibilities include observing lessons and coaching the members of my team, as well as leading their PPMs, in-phase moderation and the like. I commute in and out of the centre of one of the UK's top 10 biggest cities at the beginning and end of each day.

I've tried to be matter of fact about my roles but if it is not clear, I have a jam-packed schedule and I work in a challenging setting. My optimism and positivity abound despite the every-day pressures of my job and my home life. Perhaps my optimism is what led my to my current school. Perhaps my increased positivity is as a result of working on such a challenging environment. Whatever the case, even when times get tough (and they do), it is possible to be optimistic and positive about teaching.

Optimism and Positivity in Education

The most recent incarnation of the standards for headteachers centres around the skills and personality traits that excellent headteachers will possess. As I did my yearly self check (the first time I've done it with this new framework) one of the key characteristics jumped out at me:

Excellent headteachers demonstrate optimistic personal behaviour, positive relationships and attitudes towards their pupils and staff, and towards parents, governors and members of the local community.

Optimism and positivity - my two favourite words when it comes to education. I've written about them both before, and defended their relevance too. In an increasingly jaded profession where, in some quarters, pessimism and negativity abound, if our leaders aren't optimistic and positive, then what hope do we have?

I'm not a headteacher, yet I find the qualities outlined in the standards document a list of characteristics to aspire to. All teachers are leaders in some capacity - they lead children, support staff, some lead other teachers - and so we'd all do well to strive to display the characteristics outlined in the standards of excellence for headteachers.

And a great starting point would be to begin to cultivate a spirit of optimism in the way that you speak and act. This will inevitably lead to the development of positivity in working relationships - optimism rubs off on others. And most of the time you can't wait around for something to naturally make you feel optimistic, like SATs being scrapped, or Ofsted telling you they're leaving you alone for four years. Optimism is a choice. Optimism is something that can be learned - this blog post has some great tips on how to become more optimistic.

If you became that little bit more optimistic, who might you affect in a positive way? Who could you lead into optimism, just by being optimistic yourself? Could you lead yourself into optimism? Try it, I think you might like it.

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Reading for Pleasure

Today we are roughly 14% of the way through this year. I am currently at 12% of my way through reading the fifty books that I've challenged myself to read this year. I love reading, and as a child I remember myself to be voracious when it came to books, but as an adult I've allowed all sorts of other things to push books out of my routine. I've always liked reading but for about two thirds of my life I have not been actively enjoying books. There has been a gradual ascent as I began to realise that I should just read the books that I want to read rather than attempting to read the books that I thought I should read. Now I truly read for pleasure and I really enjoy it.

And it has been my attempts to generate those same feelings in ten and eleven year olds that have simultaneously kindled them in me. I'm not ashamed to say that I read a lot of books intended for children or young adults. Two series of books particularly grabbed me: Philip Reeves' 'Mortal Engines' books and Rosemary Sutcliff's trilogy of books about Roman Britain (beginning with 'The Eagle of the Ninth'). Out of all those books I only read one to my class yet it was the start of something good for me.

Last year, at school, we invested heavily in class sets of 'real' books and, as such, the beginning of this academic year saw me and my class reading the excellent 'Noah Barleywater Runs Away' by John Boyne (of 'The Boy In the Striped Pyjamas' fame, a book which I subsequently devoured because I loved 'Noah Barleywater...' so much). 'Noah...' was a triumph ("sick book, innit, sir?"). After reading one magical novel my children were hooked ("What we reading next, sir? I bet it's not as good as 'Noah Barleywater'"). We picked up 'Tom's Midnight Garden' which they couldn't get into (I think largely on account of the fact as city-dwellers they don't understand the concept of having a garden) so we exercised our right as readers not to finish a book - something I do regularly ('We Need To Talk About Kevin', Jo Nesbo's 'The Redeemer'). Then, after reading it myself (in an evening, no less), we started 'Hitler's Canary' by Sandi Toksvig, and once again they're captivated (I've caught them trying smuggle copies home, and even worse, trying to skip to the end); it's their new favourite book. I read 'Carrie's War' last week, and whilst I love the book, I don't think it's for my class - they need their next favourite book, not just the next book. As teachers we need to make wise choices (which to pick up, which to put down) and to do that we need to know the kids in our class(es). I'm hoping to get a class set of 'The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas'; they've been enamoured by World War Two, of which they knew very little about, and I'm keen for them to find out more without actually having to teach a topic on it: the beauty of a good novel.

Now, the children in my class, after years of disinterest, are in the initial stage of what I hope will be a life-long relationship with books. They're discovering new words, new worlds, new ideas, new people and old history. I've seen it clearly impact on their writing; vocabulary, idioms and other turns-of-phrase magpied and used as their own. I use these books to teach whole class sessions, but the less I say about that the better, although I'm a strong advocate of it and a disliker of traditional guided reading. If we want children to love reading, then the first step in my experience is to read to them - speak aloud the thoughts and questions you have, the links you're making and the delight you find in particular phrasings. Read with expression; bring the book alive. Starting the day in this way does as much for me as it does the kids: win/win.

This week my wife, who is beating me in the Fifty Book Challenge, gave me a copy of John Green's debut YA novel 'Looking for Alaska' and whilst it's definitely not one I'll be reading to my class, it's such an amusing read - definitely more appealing than most of those a Penguin books the government want to flog to secondary schools. I suppose reading is rather a personal thing - I don't usually read based on recommendation - a well-designed cover, a familiar author or a decent bit of blurb is enough to pique my interest. Many of the books I've read on recommendation are ones I've not finished.

If there's any point to this post it is this: everyone can enjoy a book, but a book won't be enjoyed by everyone.

All Aboard!

In 'All In The Same Boat' I touched very briefly on today's subject matter and after a couple of conversations after yesterday's post it became clear that more needs to be said. Previously I wrote "Make sure your leadership are taking responsibility too - don't let them allow you to be alone in the boat" and I'd like to say a little more.

I am going to address this post to year 2 and year 6 teachers, but if you are a senior leader reading this, it is your responsibility to make sure that everything I suggest they do actually happens.

Most leaders will naturally want to be on board - it's their school and their data. Most leaders won't be leaving year 2 and year 6 teachers to hoist the mainsail themselves. Many leaders will now be adopting an 'all hands on deck' approach, but even the best captain needs to know from his crew what is happening in each area of the ship's life. He'll need the quartermaster to inform him when the ship is low on supplies, and he'll need the boatswain to tell him if such-and-such a part is in need of repair. Head teachers, and other members of SLT, will need feedback from teachers in order to understand what the needs and priorities are. And that's where this blog post comes in.

At the earliest possible opportunity, call a meeting with phase leaders (UKS2 and KS1), class teachers (Y2 and Y6), the head and any other SLT members. At the meeting discuss the new assessment arrangements (if you have not done so already) and its implications. If you have new thoughts and feelings after last week's revelations then it will be worth having another meeting anyway. It might be a good idea to take some assessment information with you so that you can identify the areas of greatest need. It'll also be good to approach it with some ideas already - if you go with only problems and no solutions the meeting will take longer, plus leaders always like to see a bit of initiative. Arm yourself with a list of questions you'd like to ask too. The meeting then needs to become a practical planning meeting with decisions made on what your school approach will be to this year's assessments. It's also worth considering as a team how you are going to keep a balanced curriculum instead of just doing maths and English (read this excellent blog post on the matter).

Even if you don't get to have a proper meeting, it'd be wise to ensure that the leadership of your school knows the course you are deciding to take with your year 2 or year 6 class. I would also involve them in any changes you're planning to make. Even when you begin to feel like you're pestering them, keep on asking for advice and informing them of your decisions.

The point of all this?

• So that you're not alone in the boat at your school. 
• So that you are supported. 
• So that collective wisdom, and the wisdom that comes from experience, influences decisions.
• So that you have the chance to suggest that more manpower might be needed. 
• So that when the data eventually comes in, it is data that represents a team effort. 
• And so that no leader can make accusations of you, blaming poor results on you alone. This should not be about taking one for the team, but taking one AS a team. 

It's a sad state of affairs that I'm even suggesting safeguarding yourself against these eventualities but I know it goes on - there are plenty of disheartening stories out there of teachers stuck in schools with leaders who absolve themselves of these responsibilities and then point the finger at the ones who have slaved all year to make as much progress as possible with each child.

In short; make sure everyone is on board with everything that will end in assessment this year. Do everything you can do get the support that you need - even the best leaders need proactivity from their team.

 Photo Credit: Eje Gustafsson via Compfight cc

All In The Same Boat

Now that we've all experienced the cocktail of initial relief, mild anger and nervous hilarity that the DfE's announcements yesterday generated, it's time to think soberly and wisely about it. My 'DfE Tells Teachers They're All Very Naughty' was a crude response, yet it did seem to voice the opinion and feeling of many teachers upon hearing what Mr. Gibb and Ms. Morgan had to say (@theprimaryhead's post was much better). What we teachers, however, really need to focus on now is making sure that, for our students, the next few months are worthwhile.

The positives that came out of yesterday's communication from the department are that it appears schools will not be judged too harshly based on the outcomes of this year's assessment. Nick Gibb wrote this in his letter to the NAHT:

"I have also written to Her Majesty’s Chief Inspector asking that his inspectors take into account national performance and the contextual factors you have outlined when considering a school's performance on writing at Key Stage 2. All organisations holding schools to account should be aware of the changes being introduced in 2016 and will consider the impact of this in making any decisions about performance or intervention on the basis of 2016 data alone. This should give schools the confidence to engage fully with the vision of the new curriculum and to rise to the new standards."

He's actually right. We should have the confidence to go on teaching, even if he had never said this. Even if we know our RAISE online could go blue next year. Even if we know Ofsted will not look kindly on us. Because what we have to focus on is the children - we have a responsibility to them first and foremost. And in a sense it has always been this way in year 6: teachers have always had the role of gatekeeper, protecting the children from the pressure. Sadly, some teachers have never managed this, instead subjecting children to weeks and weeks of practise papers under exam conditions and taking every opportunity to brow-beat them with "It's only x amount of weeks until your SATs, you know?" Some teachers pass on the pressure they feel - and, at all costs, we must not do that.

In another communication from yesterday the DfE let us know that:

"As this is the first year of new accountability measures and new assessments, we will wait until tests have been taken to set minimum expectations for a school’s progress scores."

We must also remember this: the scores will be calculated based on the tests taken nationally and if everyone does poorly then the minimum expectation will be set lower. We're all in this together and if the DfE stick to what they've said this week then perhaps we shouldn't worry as much. 

Although the DfE have tried to shy away from admitting that this has all been a bit shambolic,lines like this give it away: "Significant reforms such as these take time to get right and for the system to catch up." We're all in the same boat; teachers, school leaders, inspectors and government officials should all be chalking this year up to experience.

At the end of my first year teaching in year 6 I thought my world was going to come crashing down around me. Some children hadn't achieved as highly as I had hoped, despite acing many a past paper. There were certain issues when comparing the data to the previous year's data. I thought I was for the chop. I spent hours writing documents to defend each and every poor test score, compiling evidence to prove that my teacher judgments weren't way off the mark. I sat in front of the school leaders and even our school improvement partner to defend myself. It all lasted about a week, and then life went on. They asked me to teach in year 6 again and my current school employed me to teach in year 6 too: last year saw a ten percent rise in children achieving floor standards or above. 

That year when it all went wrong is now long gone and forgotten, in fact it was all gone and forgotten after a few weeks. The school went on to get a 'Good' Ofsted inspection (with two ares being 'Outstanding') despite the data which I thought would end the world (in fact, there was barely any mention of the data). 

And when 2017 rolls around 2016 will be gone and forgotten too. Whatever happens this year will not be career-defining for you. Realising that every year 2 and 6 teacher in the land is in the same position is key to having a more positive outlook on this matter. Knowing that when schools are compared, aside from the usual variations, there will be a national trend. That trend will not necessarily be a trend of 'underachievement' because I know that every year 2 and 6 teacher in the country will be working their socks off to ensure excellent progress and high achievement for all their children. Possibly the tests, and even the teacher assessment based on the interim objectives, will show that we are 'underachieving', but we will all be there together - maybe then the DfE will admit that their handling of the changes was clumsy. Maybe they won't. Whatever happens, it will all blow over and we will all move on.

In the meantime, steel yourself for Monday, plan and teach some exciting lessons and make sure the kids are learning and making progress. Don't foist the stress on to them; they're just kids. Make sure your leadership are taking responsibility too - don't let them allow you to be alone in the boat. Do the wise thing and make sure you teach them according to the curriculum and the interim objectives - do what you can with the short time we've got, but just remember that there are only so many hours in a day, week, half term. Maximise that time so that you can be confident your children will 'perform' to the best of their ability. And that is all you can ask for.

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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:

Main Photo Credit: hz536n/George Thomas via Compfight cc

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