It's Behaviour, Dummy

I had just finished a school visit on Tuesday afternoon when I was picked up by a Sheffield taxi driver at the main entrance.

I asked for the Station and we set off in to town. He asked me where I was headed and I told him I was going back to London. Figuring that I had something to do with education, he ventured 'are you an inspector?' I told him that I was just visiting some colleagues and tried not to get in to much more of a conversation, wanting just to sit in quiet for the 20 or so minutes it would take to make it through Sheffield rush hour traffic.

But this chap wasn't giving up. He continued to chat about schooling and the state of education. But it was quickly clear that this wasn't just your usual taxi driver rant. The guy knew what he was talking about.

He looked at me in his rear view mirror, his eyes full of sadness and told me, 'I'm a teacher. History.'

He left that in the air for a while until I asked him the obvious question, 'why are you driving a cab?'

And the discussion that followed echoed hundreds of conversations I have had with teachers over the years. Simply put, and this will come as no surprise, I'm sure: the behaviour of children at his last school had driven him to give up. More than that though. He could have handled the children being badly behaved if other colleagues, and especially managers, had taken his side.

Instead he found that sending a child out resulted in him being berated by the head of department; calling for SMT support resulted in an 'off the record' talk about the quality of his teaching and how he might best 'engage' the children; a phone call to a parent to tell them about their child's poor behaviour inevitably meant a visit from the head of year to ask him not to do that because the parents had complained.

So he quit. And now he drives a cab around Sheffield, happy but for those calls that ask him to pick up at schools, which remind him of how belittled, humiliated and betrayed be felt at the hands of children, parents and low quality school leaders.

Before I get in to the main purpose of this blog, let me just make this clear: if you are a headteacher and an adult comes to you for support, no matter what the circumstances, no matter if you think they are the worst teacher in the world, no matter what you hear from students or parents, your job is to support them. To trust them. To treat them like a human being. If you can't do that, then you have no right whatsoever holding the position of head.

This taxi journey discussion played more heavy on my mind than it might usually – after all, this is something that I hear very often. His story is so typical and behaviour is the single issue that really matters to most teachers. It is the key reason for leaving the profession. It is at the heart of working conditions and is the one thing that teachers value above all else (most teachers I know see good behaviour as far more important than a pay rise).

I woke up the next morning still thinking about the taxi driver. The history teacher.

And then I made a mistake that I often make when bleary eyed and stumbling around the house at the crack of dawn, I switched on the wireless and it was tuned to the BBC. I really don't know why I do it to myself. I should have learned a long time ago that the Beeb just drives me insane.

The news story being discussed as my ancient radio came to life was the launch of a report from the Children's Commissioner, Dr Maggie Atkinson. In yet another vicious attack on the profession, Dr Atkinson berated headteachers for sending children home without completing all of the paperwork.

I switched the wireless off, cursed a bit, did some angry Tweeting and then thought again of the cab journey the previous evening.

Firstly, if you have never been a headteacher, shut the hell up. You have no idea, absolutely no idea, how hard the job is and how much bureaucratic crap one has to deal with.

Secondly, and more to the point, when did it become acceptable that a single child is allowed to rob 30 other children of the chance to be successful? When did the bleeding hearts, the vocal minority, the wets, make it so ingrained in Britain that the child is always right and the teacher is always wrong?

Not on my watch. And not on the watch of any good headteacher.

If a child is ruining the education of others and the best course of action is to send them home, then trust headteachers with the responsibility they have been given (to provide the best education for all) to get on with their jobs.

Dr Atkinson's remarks are unhelpful and insulting.

I absolutely despair when those who have no idea what it is like to be in schools, no idea what it is like to see on a grown man's face the shame of being bullied by children, think they have the right to make such sweeping remarks.

I don't know who these idiots are that have made 'inclusion' such a perverted scenario, but I do know that parents I meet and talk with all agree: if my child was in a class with a disruptive child, then I would want (and support) the headteacher to remove that disruptive child so that my child can learn. That is fairness.

I have written before about inclusion, so won't go in to this more now.

I could tell a hundred stories about nightmarish behaviour in schools, about adults driven to distraction, about little bastards who get away with it because some headteachers have bought in to the 'needs of the one outweigh the needs of the many' bullshit.

I will include here, by means of example, an excerpt from a chapter of a book I wrote some time back:

I have witnessed many shocking incidents in my time as a teacher. Once as we returned from a school trip, a meathead of a parent attacked a colleague as he stepped from the bus. I have been involved in calming down a child while he held another at knifepoint. There was the boy who walked in to my sixth form lesson and struck one of my students across the head with a metal table leg because he thought his girlfriend was cheating on him. I have seen a teenage girl punched to the ground by her own father at a summer ball. There was an occasion in Northampton when a gang of expelled students had come on to site and spray-painted extremely offence material on to the cars of the staff. But none of this has shocked me as much as what happened while working at Pope John School in Corby. Several Advanced Skills Teachers, Consultants and Advisors from across the county had been drafted in to the school in order to try to help raise standards from the most dire of states. The school was suffering badly and was earmarked for closure. I was posted in the school one day per week to work with the mathematics department. I spent many days during the summer holiday working with the newly appointed Head of Mathematics in creating schemes of work and resources so that the teachers could have a better chance of success come September. Within three weeks of the school term starting, the new Head of Maths had resigned and left the school. There was a staff shortage and the teachers working at the school were fighting against the most difficult of circumstances. A young teacher had taken on the role of leading the department and was doing all that she could to keep things moving along. I worked with some fantastic students at the school, giving extra time after hours to hold revision lessons and spending far more time on the assignment than I really had. Many areas of the school had descended in to chaos. Students were out of control and some staff simply hid themselves away.

One Monday afternoon, I was due to work with a young female teacher with a Year 11 class. She was a beautiful young woman, always smiling and delightful to talk to. She had arrived from Ghana, a successful teacher, only a matter of weeks before the start of the school year. She put such effort in to her lessons and had a real desire to help the students. Her lesson was already underway when I entered the class via a rear door from an adjoining classroom. She was at the board trying to explain some mathematical concept, but no-one was listening. Some students had headphones on, some were doodling, others chatting to each other. I had never seen this perspective of her daily grind before, usually I would enter the classroom with her and the students would sense that they needed to behave because there was a stranger in the room. But now, here I was sat secretly at the back of the room. In front of me a row students were chatting away, still wearing their coats, bags on the desk and completely oblivious to the teacher. One student, a scrawny, horrid little shit, started to make monkey noises at the teacher. I could barely believe it and was thoroughly ashamed to think that this poor girl's working days were typified by this sort of experience, I had a deep despair at the thought of her going home each evening to her own family and having to put on a brave face. I was about to collar the lad when he decided to take it even further and began chanting over and over again: "Nigger. Nigger. Nigger. Nigger"

The teacher caught my eyes and I could see that she was gently weeping.

I stood up sharply, throwing my seat back against the wall. The boys turned around.

"Get up!" I barked at him.

He stood and tried to have some swagger about him, but it was clear that he was terrified.

"Follow me!" I marched out of the room and the boy followed. He tried to catch up with me and say some words but I ignored him completely.

We reached the school reception. I stopped and turned to him. "Name!" I ordered and he told me. I am not terribly proud of what happened next, but I also find it hard to regret since I later found out that this is what this boy did every single lesson.

I asked the school receptionist to get the child's father on the phone, even though I know that this was not the procedure that should have been followed. She tried the home number, no response. Tried his mobile, no response. Finally she handed me the receiver as someone at the man's workplace answered the phone. I asked for the father by name and was told that he could not come to the phone in work hours. I explained that there was a "situation" at his son's school. A few moments later, he came on the line asking if everything was okay. I shoved the phone into the boy's hand and roared at him "Tell your father what you did!"

He stood there shaking for long moments, not willing to speak. "Tell him!" I yelled again. Finally in a broken voice he said, "I called my teacher a nigger"

In a factory on the other side of town, his father went ballistic. The boy was crying now and he handed me the phone. "Come and remove this boy from these premises." I told the parent simply.

Fifteen minutes later the reception doors swung open and the father charged in, grabbed his son by the arm and marched back out again.

Our support in the school continued for many months, but in spite of this and the efforts of many, many good people, Pope John School never did recover from its downward spiral. There were protests and campaigns in the local newspaper to try and save the school. But I will say here now, I am glad that it was eventually closed and that those children were given better hope by being sent to a stronger school.

For weeks afterwards I couldn't stop thinking about the pretty, young teacher going home knowing that the humiliation would all begin again tomorrow.

I know that this can happen to teachers regardless of race, colour or creed, but I believe that it is simply a fact that Overseas Trained Teachers get a much harder time from students.

(from Chapter 34 'More On Being a Teacher', Mark McCourt)

Working in schools is the greatest job in the world.  But it should not be underestimated how much of a decline there has been in the last 15 years in terms of both pupil behaviour and the attitudes of parents.  If Dr Atkinson wishes to peddle such crap, my personal opinion is that she should first have to endure the humiliation that some teachers face on a daily basis.  She should have to lie awake at night with palpatations, unable to rest, with tears in her eyes.  She should have to lose her appetite and have family life destroyed.  At that point, then feel free to come back to headteachers and make recommendations about how they should deal with the tiny minority of children who cause this distress.

Every Single Child Can Pass Maths

As the coalition government pushes forward with reforms to the National Curriculum in England, the spotlight is once again on the debate around the 'right' mathematics curriculum.

The desire is, of course, to raise standards (whatever that might mean) and there are arguments and counter arguments aplenty. What shocks me is that on all sides of the debate, the ever present excuse that 'some kids' will never be successful in mathematics rears its ugly head.

This has got to stop.

Enough is enough.  No more excuses.

Except for the rarest of child, we are all born with the same capacity to learn. Every single child, on the day of their birth, has it within them to leave the schooling system mathematically literate. I'm not talking about everyone being a Fields Medalist or mathematical genius, just that everyone can attain a level of mathematics that ensures they have access to all other learning and can continue to learn if they wish. A level of mathematics useful and practical in their future lives.

And one of the main reasons that so many do not achieve this level at the moment, is that so many people in the education world seem hell bent on setting the bar far too low and excusing under performance.

When children enter the education system, say at 3 or 4 or 5, when we are first able to influence their path through learning, they are no longer equal. The experiences that they have had in their early childhood have changed them. They are at different starting points.

But here's the thing: so bloody what.

It is not good enough to use this pathetic excuse to consign thousands of children to a life of being mathematically subnormal. It is not good enough for a profession to throw its hands in the air and say 'well it's not our fault'.

And just while I'm on this, if one more person says to me that these children are from 'certain types' of background, if one more person tries to tell me that being poor means you are screwed before schooling even gets its hands on you, then I will clench my fist as tight as I can and smack that person firmly in the face.

When I hear apparently intelligent adults writing off kids 'from the estate', I want to scream, I want to drag them from their comfortable lives and show them that poverty is not an excuse – there are millions of parents around the world facing the most incredibly challenging circumstances who love their children dearly and do an amazing job at raising them, including instilling a love of learning and a desire to be successful. It has nothing whatsoever to do with income level and everything to do with bad parenting – and these people are in every walk of life.

Regardless, it is a pointless argument. The fact is the children arrive the way they arrive. It is what we then do to them that matters.

During their short time in school, the average child attends 1600 hours of mathematics lessons.

Let's take, for ease of argument, a benchmark of success as Grade C at GCSE (though this is, frankly, a joke). If anyone pauses for just a few moments, looks at the requirements for gaining a Grade C and then considers that each child has 1600 hours of instruction to get there, they would quickly come to the conclusion that this MUST be possible. Absolutely must be. Geez, a trained monkey could get there in that time. Grade C mathematics is not taxing. It just isn't.

So why do thousands of children find it so incredibly taxing? Well, the simple answer is that the 1600 hours of instruction that they receive isn't doing the job for them. Kids fail GCSE mathematics not because they can't do the stuff that forms the Grade C checklist, they fail because they haven't got a clue what is going on in mathematics. They, at some point along the way, dropped the ball.

Recently, I have been writing a curriculum for mathematics designed to take any person learning mathematics from the point of starting to understand numbers and counting all the way through to calculus. I firmly believe that every single child being born today has the capacity to, and with the right journey could, achieve this level by age 15 (far beyond the expectations of the current curriculum).

Mathematics is not an arbitrary set of topics for study. It is a discipline founded on well-defined axioms. Like playing a piano concerto, writing a great novel, or baking a cake, you cannot produce the goods without understanding and knowing the foundations.

And the really irritating thing is that we know, and have known for hundreds of years, what the journey through mathematics needs to look like, what it needs to consist of, if one is to be able to use mathematics fluently.

I cannot say this strongly enough, but if you do not have a full grasp of numerosity, place value, the base 10 system, arithmetic and proportional reasoning, then you are... well... fucked.

And, just to add at this point, with regards to the axiomatic nature of mathematics, at the level of foundations there is no namby-pamby way of 'discovering' this knowledge.  They are axioms, that's the point.  You just need to know them.  Someone needs to tell you, and you need to remember.  The numbers are 1, 2, 3, 4... and that just is so.  A square is called a square, nothing is going to change that.  Numbers in place value columns are linked by a scale of 10, get over it.  Later on in mathematics, once these fundamental elements are known, then the excitement begins and one can construct all sorts of new knowledge from these axioms combined with logic and imagination.  But if you don't know these things, you can never ever get there.  Just in the same way that if you don't know the English languge, you can never ever write Hamlet.

Yet, even though we know this, for some inexplicable reason, the curriculum and the teaching of it, seems to ignore the fact that these fundamentals are non-negotiable. The curriculum, especially when enhanced by the inspection regime, puts mathematics, as a set of skills, on a fast moving conveyor belt that is impossible to stop or rewind.

Except for the fact that the current National Curriculum is so low in its aspirations and expectations, the topics there are all fine and good, nothing controversial. But it just pays no attention whatsoever to how mathematics must be mastered at each level before moving on.

I am sick to the back teeth of meeting 15 year olds who are being asked to solve algebraic equations or analyse graphs, when they can't even perform basic arithmetic or know how the number system works. What the hell are we doing to these kids.

And they are not rare – these kids are everywhere.

Somewhere along the line, the conveyor belt served up arithmetic, say, but they didn't grip it, they didn't get it, they didn't get there. For the moment, forget why. It doesn't matter, it's just an excuse. Yes, maybe they are a pain in the arse, or were away, or they have mental parents, or the most difficult lives. It does not matter. What matters is that, by simply continuing on with the next topic, we are screwing these kids over for life.

Mathematics teachers need to be brave. They need to ignore Ofsted or idiotic SMT who haven't a clue what they are talking about. Mathematics teachers need to know mathematics. They need to know their kids. They need to know who has and who hasn't mastered the foundations and they need to ensure that every single child does so.

You see, the thing is, it might seem scary because the curriculum powers on and you might feel that you are behind, you might feel someone will 'tell you off', but for Christ's sake, the only thing that should matter in teaching is doing what is right for learning. Sometimes you need to rise up.

And you know what, it isn't rocket science. When kids understand and know the basic grammar of mathematics, they are able to accelerate through the other stuff.

Instead of trying to shoe horn every kid in to learning what the scheme of work says they should be learning because of the year group they are in, actually bother to sort the problem.

And everyone blames everyone else. Secondary teachers blame primary teachers, who blame policy makers, who blame the mathematics society and on and on and on...

But the truth is, it's our fault. All of us. As a society we have all been complicit in allowing expectations to fall so dreadfully low.

If you are a teacher and you have a child in your class (doesn't matter how old they are) who doesn't know and understand the foundations I listed above, please, please, please stop the conveyor belt and get them to master these. They all can. All. Do not accept the nonsense some peddle that some types of kids can't. It's not true. They can. Have that as your expectation and aspiration (and if you don't, then perhaps teaching is the wrong career).

I often refer to mathematics as a giant Jenga. At the top, the wooden blocks represent those mathematical concepts that we want the kids to be able to do at the end of their schooling, aged 15 or 16. The GCSE topics. But they are not failing mathematics because they don't know these topics. They are failing because the blocks much further down, the foundations, are loose, wobbly or completely missing and so the whole tower tumbles.

We should all feel really ashamed that we allow young people to leave schooling without these foundations. For it is these that will enable them to learn more. Without them they are imprisoned for life.

I hope that a new curriculum for England will be high in its expectations and aspirations. I hope that teachers will see that there is no point in moving children on from one skill to the next to the next if they don't have at their disposal the basic grammar, the language of mathematics that allows them to learn. I hope that headteachers will tell their staff to ignore the age of a child and instead focus on diagnosing what they do and do not understand so that they can ensure each child leaves schooling able to be successful in mathematics. I hope that Ofsted take their head out of their arse and stop bleating on about age related expectations and instead focus on making children better at mathematics.

I hope that a new curriculum will bring about real improvements in the life chances of the children being born today so that, by the time they reach age 15, the current GCSE grade C topics look like an amusing set of piddling easy tasks because they have gone so much further and mastered the subject in a way that everyone of them is capable of doing.

This blog led to a discussion on the TES forum.

Barking up the Wrong Tree?

It would seem that everyone in education is continually looking for the silver bullet: that one initiative, that one approach, that one great idea, which will make everything better. Successive administrations appear to decide on their favourite countries and then try to cherry pick approaches that work there and bolt them on to the UK system.

But what if we are barking up the wrong tree entirely? And, more to the point, what if we are doing that deliberately because the truth is unpalatable?

Many people I know (and some I even like and respect), are forever banging on about 'Singapore Maths'. This approach to teaching mathematics is one based on mastery and mathematics results in Singapore are great. But are those results great because of the approach they take to teaching mathematics? Well, no.

When one looks at high performing jurisdictions around the world and tries to find comparators in the systems, we can see that the approaches taken in terms of pedagogy and curriculum are wide and varied. Yet, the results are high. There is certainly a correlation between Singapore's approach to teaching mathematics and its results, but it is not the causation.

So what is the common link?

There would appear to be only one thread that flows throughout all of the highest performing jurisdictions. It is not an approach. It is not the curriculum. It is not how much teachers are paid or the level of PD that they engage with.

The real common link is society's attitudes towards education.

But, you see, this is really not something that any UK government would like to admit. Because if it is the case, then the answer does not lie in a new DfE initiative or models of schooling or a national strategy. The answer lies in other departments. In the home office, in the justice system, in culture, in business.

It is not because the Singapore government take a mastery approach to mathematics learning that they are successuful, it is because the vast majority of society view education as vitally important and something that should be revered. They see teachers as high status professionals. They view learning as the route to fulfilment and prosperity.

This is evident time and again across high performing jurisdictions. It is because the model of society is one in which schooling is held in high esteem.

There are pockets of this attitude in the UK, particularly among Asian families. But as a whole, the UK society does not value education.

I cannot count over the years how many times I have had to deal with parents who feel they have no responsibility whatsoever for their child's learning and behaviour.

And behaviour.

This is the key.

In those societies that value education, classroom behaviour is much less extreme.

It's all about behaviour, dummy.

I recall, as a child, messing around in class. Hi-jinks, silliness. But one stern look from the teacher and we would get back on task. Or, horror of horrors, a letter home! My father would then make sure that messing about in class was not something I would do for quite some time.

But I regularly see and hear about occasions now of behaviour so extreme that it is nothing short of bullying a teacher. These children are not normalised, not socialised.

But what if we admitted that? Which government ever would or could?

It is far easier to blame the education system and tinker away at the edges than it is for a country to stop, look at itself and admit that something rotten has taken hold.

If we actually want education to get better in the UK, we need to make societal changes, but these take at least a generation.

And if you don't believe that something rotten has taken hold, ask a teacher friend if they would be willing to take a pay cut for guaranteed good behaviour and respect from all kids.

(JUST AN ADDITIONAL NOTE ON SINGAPORE:  The other thing that people always forget to mention when talking about the miracle that is Singapore maths results is that as a country it is nothing at all like England.  For a start, it's tiny, with only around 500 schools.  I often wonder how those results would compare to the top 500 schools in England.  Also, I'm not criticising the approach to mathematics, I happen to rather like it.  But we shouldn't kid oursleves - pedagogical and curriculum approach is a values decision.  Personally, I'm a constructivist and much prefer to teach mathematics that way.  There is loads of research to support constructivism.  But there is loads of research to support other approaches too.  We choose to teach in the way that we do for cultural reasons.)

Goodbye Britain

Everything. And by that I really do mean every single thing. Was better in the past.

How I adored the days when a drive to the coast would be preluded by hours and hours checking the car, filling up with coolant and oil, adjusting the tyre pressure and fiddling with the engine. Only, of course, to break down along the way just the same.

How I adored the days when TV consisted of just two channels, when the entire population would watch the same episode of Morecombe and Wise and talk about it the day after. (Of course, there was also ITV, but that was only for the 'common' children.)

How I adored the days when you would arrange to meet a friend for dinner, cinema, theatre, sports, dates or what-not and you simply had to turn up on time. No text messages about running late. No turning up at the wrong place and quickly sorting with a phonecall.

How I adored the days when, not only were your parents allowed to smack you in the street, but could also smack any other child who was being mischievous. When bank holiday Monday meant long hours sitting stationary on single carriageway A- and B- roads. When there was no such thing as health and safety, when children were allowed to play on badly made British swings and slides that would slice their legs on protruding shards of metal. How I adored the days when nothing worked. When loading a computer game took whole minutes and then didn't play anyway.

How I adored the days when VHS and Betamax battled for supremacy. When a trip to the cinema was like sitting in a flea pit. How I adored the days.

Nothing is better now. Nothing.

And how I adored the days when teachers were teachers and kids were kids. When it was normal to be clipped around the ear, when a teacher could call you a moron and your parents didn't try to sue for emotional damages. How I adored the days when messing about in class meant having the shit scared out of you by a mortar-boarded, cape adorning demon headmaster. How I adored the days when teachers told you stuff, told you what to do and you did it. And not just you, everyone. The days when ADHD was recognised for what it is – a whinging, irritating and badly behaved kid. How I adored the days when teachers were funny. When it was ok for a teacher to have a laugh with the kids and to take the piss out of them without some lily-livered, flaccid, middle-middle-class bleeding heart parent calling for them to be sacked.

How I adored the days before 'learning styles', 'personalised learning', 'student voice' and 'parent choice'. How I adored the days when schools were what they were – a place where you were lucky to go to, where it was your responsibility to learn. And your family would make sure you bloody well did. How I adored the days when my teachers wrote these words on my school reports: "as Mark opens his mouth to sing, the other boys leave the room", "I have met boys with less talent in art than Mark, but none who managed to be so consistently bad", "One year without being excluded? How about it? There's a good chap."

How I adored the days.

How I adored the days when, as a teacher, I could have a laugh. With colleagues we would send kids to another classroom to ask for a 'long weight (wait)', we would play the 'stand behind the ugliest kid game' in exam halls, we would go off on elaborate stories in lessons, we would ignore inspectors and government initiative. How I adored the days when we had spunk.

Nothing is better now. What has become of the profession? I continually meet these po-faced, weak spirited, uninspiring teachers. These young, fresh-faced wimps straight from college. They believe all the diktat. Do as they are told. Stay out of trouble.

How I adored the days when teachers were strong. When teachers were professional, they knew about learning and got on with the job and did not bow to idiotic policy makers.

How I adored the days. But I guess I am ancient now. I guess that what this new Britain wants, in all its X-Factor consuming, male-grooming, ladette form is to be controlled. To be nannied by the State and to be numb to any notion of having to think for oneself. I guess what this new Britain wants is a society that thinks there is no difference between private and public behaviour, that it is ok to boo and jeer at anyone, that there is no boundary between adult and child and that it is perfectly ok to raise your kids to be rude. Yes, I am ancient now. But I'm not sure that what we have now is what we had dreamed.

Everything was better in the past. Goodbye Britain.

Speech at Nesta, 15th November 2012

I was very encouraged to read, throughout the report, experiences that resonate with the work that I have been focused on over the years.

I very much believe that technology has a place in education and that the potential for technology to have a real positive impact on student outcomes is something that we would be foolish not to tap into.

But. There are no silver bullets here. And it was nice to see that line in the report.

So much of what we say about technology enhanced learning is based on hunch and personal belief. For at least 40 years we have been trying to shoehorn technology in to learning. Taking software and hardware, designed for the purposes of business, and trying to work it in to our classrooms.

Almost without exception, the technology that has made it all the way in to the hands of our children has, as the report puts it, put technology above teaching, excitement above evidence.

If we are going to realize the potential that technology holds to improve education, I believe that the answer must lie in creating, from the ground up, evidenced based, values driven technologies that start from the point of learning and teaching.

But I don't mean teaching, do I? Because teaching is contrived to mean the way we teach now.

Technology can't be a bolt on. It isn't in the practices of classroom teachers that we should be looking. Instead, we need to grip that using technology to enhance learning necessitates new practices. Technology has its own pedagogies.

So what of this ground up approach? Who would do it?

This is where the biggest challenge lies, I think.

Within a research environment, maybe driven by grants, one can have the luxury of time.

But it is not HEIs that will bring technology in to the hands of children. It is, and always has been (with some very rare exceptions) the commercial sector that pushes tech into schools.

Research projects all too often result in cumbersome interfaces or uninspiring user experience. Which is of course fine, because that is not the purpose of the project. And developing tech is costly.

But. Technology needs to be practical and useable if schools are to adopt it.

So what do they see?

They see the trash that large, commercial organisations push on them.

And with little expertise in schools, and little time to grow that expertise, school leaders make poor decisions about the technologies that they invest in.

There is no surprise here. Why on earth would a commercial organization take an evidenced based, values driven approach? What incentive is there?

So instead we get pulp fiction.

£1 billion pounds spent in the last five years, the report tells us. And what impact has it had?

I'd wager almost none.

A good starting point for building learning technology, as the report points out, is to start by augmenting and connecting proven learning activities in current settings.

But if we are, as the report challenges us, to bring research into reality and turn the world into a learning place, we need to create a mechanism for bridging the divide.

Too often at the moment developers don't understand learning, and educators don't understand the endless possibilities of good coding.

Researchers and developers operate in isolation.

We need to bring together educators, developers and designers in one place, where ideas can really flourish.

This is why I'm very pleased to be able to announce a new initiative, in which we are creating an Education-Technology hub in central London that we act as an incubator for young start-ups, giving them access to experts in pedagogy, technology and design.

I'd be very happy to talk afterwards to anyone interested in knowing more about the hub. And look forward to seeing a new tranche of evidence and values driven, ground up developments for learning emerging.

There are already some examples of commercial organizations taking the lead. Many of you will know that I am part of Beluga Learning, where we have done just that.

This means that we have been able to go way beyond technology that simply replicates a transmission model of education. Much of the most used solutions are online based and seem to be stuck in this mode. Khan Academy is taking steps now, but has as yet effectively brought nothing new to the table.

Surely the potential of tech goes beyond simply increasing reach (though this is, of course, important)

I think, in fact I know through our work, that tech can move beyond consolidation and practice to true learning environments where young people can build their own knowledge.

Technology, as Seymour Papert knew, can bring constructivism alive.

And I was encouraged to read in the report the section "learning through making"

And although the report points out that few examples of learning through making have been subjected to rigorous academic research, I would encourage again researchers to come together with developers on real products in real classrooms to finally nail this. I'd be happy to put Beluga under this type of scrutiny if anyone is up for it!

Look. Practice has its place, for sure. Practice makes perfect. But there has to be more, surely. I don't think we should kid ourselves that practice and drill software is technology enhanced learning.

Yet nearly all solutions out there don't get beyond this sort of approach.

Let us break away.

Let's build upon the promise of collaboration, allowing learners to work with each other. Let's create robust scaffolds of experiences that incorporate representational tools that can be manipulated to build understanding internally and communication tools that give opportunities for reflection.

For me, the potential of technology is in bringing all the aspects of a great teacher in to the hands of an individual learner.

So in the same way that, as a teacher, you will kneel down next to a child and listen, observe and understand what is happening so that you can adapt their experience, provide support or challenge, tech can also, in real-time, analyse learning and adapt the experiences.

There are lots of challenges to overcome.

Cost.

We need to pause and look at the world.

When I was a child, school was where innovation was. It was the place that I saw my first computer. It was the place that I watched TV in colour for the first time. But a complete reversal has occurred.

Now, the tech that our young people have in their lives is leagues beyond much of what exists in our schools. So let's tap in to that. Let's tap in to the digital literacies that our young people bring to the classroom with them. Not suffocate them.

I despair each time I inspect a school and hear about mobile phones being banned. For goodness sake, what are we doing?

The report highlights that mobile devices can be distracting.

We need to stop saying this.

This speech was given at the Nesta Digital Education Report launch on Thursday 15th November 2012 as a panel member response to the report.

Mark McCourt, Nesta, 15th November 2012

It seems to be forbidden in education to say, but it is not the mobile phone causing distraction. It is bad teaching. It is not the tech.

Would you ban dictionaries? They aren't distracting, are they? Well, sure. What about the silly boys looking up rude words and giggling?

Anything can be distracting.

So you have rules, you build a culture. You set out expectations, and good teachers orchestrate classrooms so that the kids aren't distracted.

Having blanket bans on mobile devices is simply wrong. It's idiotic. Let's open up schooling to involve the world that the child experiences beyond its walls.

But by far the biggest challenge in bringing about real impact through technology is how to incentivize commercial organisations to invent solutions that will actually enhance learning.

So, I would call on Nesta and other organisations to take a leap of faith. We can't continue with the divide between research and development.

But developing in this way is incredibly risky and expensive. There is no list of ingredients that will make a magic piece of technology. Funders will need to join those of us in industry by putting their money at risk.

Sometimes it will work, sometimes it will fail. But the payoff of working together will be great.

I'm enthused that the report calls for collaboration. So let's do it.

Are A Levels Getting Easier?

So it's A Level results day. And the press will be full of the usual debate around standards falling while at the same time parents, teachers and students will be in uproar saying that A Levels are something to be proud of. This happens every single year, has done for, well, basically forever. And always will.

Ok, let's start with this. Kids: you've done well, good on you. You should be proud. We are proud of you. The exams were probably the hardest thing you've ever done. Celebrate. Enjoy life.

But... here's the thing. I'm sitting here with the A Level mathematics papers from 2012, 1992 and 1972.

Is the paper from 2012 easier?  Yes.

Much easier infact.

In terms of mathematics, in terms of being a mathematician, the problems are simply not as demanding. They do not require the same level of thought, they do not require the same understanding of interrelated concepts, they do not even cover material at the same level of difficulty (some bits do, granted).

The papers are easier. It really is undeniable.

But are A Levels easier that they used to be?  No.

Seems like a contradiction, I know. But it's about the journey. It's about the preparation and readiness.

For the kids who sat the 2012 paper, they were every bit as daunting and demanding, every bit as challenging and as difficult. Their triumph was every bit as great.  The A Level was not easier.

Because their experience until that point had readied them only for that level of paper. They would not be able to do the 1972 paper, not because the paper is more difficult (which it most certainly is), but because the educational experience they had encountered throughout their schooling had set the bar much lower.

There are many reasons for this. For one, the curriculum is much broader now and mathematics is being used to serve many more purposes, so the time for really getting to grips with the subject is less.  It's not a dumbing down of mathematics as such, more a replacing mathematics with something considered more appropriate to the masses.

A Level mathematics is an easier paper now. Sorry, but it is.

But imagine a moment, if you will, you are taking part in a high jump competition. Suppose your entire build up to the competition was practising jumping bars set at 1 metre. Your competitor on the other hand had been practising bars set at 2 metres. At the competition you are asked to jump 2.1 metres. You'd have no chance... all of your routines would be useless... it is the experience leading up to the challenge that matters.

Should A Level mathematics be more difficult? I'm not sure. Rather depends on what you want it to achieve. If it is a qualification that is supposed to ready you for a mathematics degree, then heck yes, it should. If on the other hand we want it to serve as something more diverse, then perhaps not.  As a mathematician, I'm biased.  I'd go for a much more rigorous curriculum and demanding exam.

But if it should be more difficult, this means tracking the mathematics curriculum all the way back in to primary and setting the bar much, much higher so that it is actually possible to achieve on a much more difficult exam come Year 13.

Let me just end by saying, though, to all those who got their results today: well done. Your achievement is equally as great as those in 1972 and don't let any sod tell you any different.

Mathematics Shouldn't be Easy

On a few separate occasions over the last couple of weeks, I have asked groups of teachers 'what does a good maths lesson look like?'

A very common response was that the kids get everything right.

This is so sad.

Mathematics is not about wading through question after question of the same old tedium – effectively repeating what some teacher has just spent 10 minutes showing on the board. Jesus.

Mathematics is about discovery. It is creative. It should take real thought.

Above all, mathematics should not be straightforward. The joy of the discipline is that it takes huge amounts of creativity and inspiration. Mathematics should be about overcoming apparently insurmountable problems. That's where the learning of mathematics happens. Through the struggle, the connections, the inventiveness.

Drill has a place. Most certainly. But they are not the good lessons.

The good lessons are the ones that make kids struggle, where they have to dredge up long forgotten knowledge and create new ways of working, new ways of seeing a situation.

The response from these teachers that kids should get things right also makes me worry about the subject knowledge of the profession. Where are all the mathematicians?

When I was a mathematical modeller, my colleagues and I would spend weeks, months, maybe years on a single problem. Struggling. Fighting. Getting within tasting distance and then having it all fall away.

It is through the rigour that complex problems demand, that mathematical learning becomes rich and lasting.

So a plea to mathematics teachers everywhere: don't design lessons for kids to get everything right, design lessons that stretch their minds and their understanding of the beautiful field of mathematics.

There are simple, practical ways in which to achieve this. Instead of demonstrating and then asking kids to repeat, ask them to prove from first principles. Instead of asking kids to remember some division facts, get them to prove it always holds. Instead of lists and lists of repetitive questions, get one meaty question and let the kids have 3-4 weeks fighting with it. The mathematics will come. Trust the nature of how mathematics arises.