The Office Staff

Too many teachers seem to forget that schools are not staffed purely by teachers. Often, in a large secondary school, the teaching staff are actually outnumbered by all those other members of staff who make the school what it is: caretakers, dinnerladies, cleaners, lab technicians, IT support, playground supervisors, teaching assistants, reprographics, art and technology technicians, the staff room tea lady, and the school office staff.

I have always found the main school office to be a haven of normality and down-to-earth-ness. The office staff that I have had the pleasure of working with have always been funny, charming, self-deprecating, friendly, interesting, intelligent, warm and kind. This is without exception. And it would be difficult to say that about any random slice of the teaching staff. I love the banter of the school office, I love the chats and the laughs. In several of the schools at which I have worked, the school office staff have been great friends and played a major part in my feeling happy at work. It would appear that there is just something about penning a group of adults in to a small office environment that leads to an overwhelming sense of support, loyalty and decency and camaraderie.

As Liz, Kath and others would testify, I have spent a lot of time in the school office – sometimes borne of necessity (having to complete admin tasks, budgets, exams returns, that sort of nonsense) but mainly the reason was to simply socialise with some of my favourite people in the workplace.

So I was absolutely shocked and saddened to learn in my early days as a teacher that my appreciation of them was not a universal. In all of the schools in which I have worked, and in many that I have inspected or supported, the school office staff would tell the same story of being treated like second class citizens. It would appear that there is a certain type of teacher, cancerous to each and every school, who believes that they are floating high above the mere working class office folk. They will flounce in to the office and bark at the underpaid staff, they will look down their noses and ignore any opinions that the secretary, receptionist, bursar or exam officer might have, they will expect (as though it were their unquestionable right) to be served and obeyed. I wish this was not true, but alas alas.

At one school, I heard the unbelievable story of the staff summer party. The invitation to which was, rightly, open to all staff at the school. During the evening, a vicious and insecure member of the teaching staff approached the small group of office staff, who were happily enjoying the evening sun and a glass of wine.  She sneerily informed them that she believed the party should be for teachers only and that they were not welcome. This on top of the snide and hurtful comments from a minority of others about the outfits that the office girls were wearing. The following year, all of the administrative staff refused the invite to the staff summer party.  And who could blame them.

I have struggled over the years to work out where this attitude comes from.

I seriously worry about some of the types of people that make teaching their career. It is full of oddballs. And this type of snobbish arsehole just makes the whole environment bitter and tiring. I wonder what it is that makes them feel superior? Is it that they have a degree? I certainly hope not because, and here's a little secret I'm letting you in on, degrees are incredibly easy. Any numbskull could pass a degree. So why isn't this often said? Well, that would be letting the rest of the world know that those of us with a degree (or several) are not actually any better than anyone else. And for some people that would be a scary thing to do because they need the status symbol.

Sat in a pub recently with a friend, we both mulled over the question of whether people like this enter the teaching profession or is it perhaps the teaching profession itself that makes people like that.  Whichever it may be, I can't abide the horrid social divide that some stuck up individuals create in schools.

The office staff are my heroes - even the barking mad, GP-receptionist types.

It is sad that in an environment where we are supposed to be role models to young people, there are those that treat other adults so badly.  Every school has these people.  If you are reading this and think that they don't, then it's probably you!

The Local Authority

There are around 150 Local Authorities in England, between them overseeing the work of approximately 28,000 schools. There is no set formula for how the authority should do this and the staffing structures, strategic plans, methodologies and quality of delivery varies wildly between them. Some LAs are highly respected by the schools in their jurisdiction, some are laughably poor, some authorities influence national policy, some have little impact beyond their own border (or indeed within it). As a school inspector, it is very easy to discern which sort of authority you are in. Just innocently utter the words "and the local authority?" at any point while talking with the Headteacher and you will know immediately by the look on their face.

For some reason, the South West of England seems to be blessed. Wiltshire, Gloucestershire and Devon LAs have all impressed me at some point for a variety of reasons. The Midlands is hit and miss, the North West often reflects a general distrust of councils and local government, London is barmy but with some shining stars.

Local Authorities used to appoint a Director of Education to drive forward their approach to working with schools, but in recent years this has generally morphed in to the irritatingly twee Director of Children's Services, to reflect the change made under then Secretary of State, Ed Balls, from the Department for Education and Skills to the Department for Children, Schools and Families. Of course, the very second the Tories walked through the door to Number 10 at the last election, the department was renamed Department for Education. Oh, how ill informed ministers love to tinker with the national education structure on a whim.

Within an LA, it is the norm that the Director for Education (or whatever) will earn a rather handsome six-figure salary in large authorities (they vary massively in size). I have no problem with this whatsoever in the case of a Director with real drive, vision and practical capabilities. But, and I will not be the only one, my goodness have I met some buffoons happily plodding along achieving next to nothing and pocketing the cash while they can. There is an old saying: Those who can't, teach. In education there are two other sayings that I can often see the reasoning behind: Those who can't teach, inspect. Those who can't be a Headteacher, be Director of Education.

When the Local Authority is good, it can be really good. They will recognize that their role is to be the critical friend, to be the support, to unburden schools so that they are freed up to do the important task of teaching children, to continually challenge lapse practice and put in place meaningful support at all levels. Many Local Authorities across England have such a reputation for excellence that they have been able to embrace a sense of entrepreneurship and sell their wares to neighbouring authorities, central government, the private sector and overseas. Not only does this bring in additional funding to the LA so that it can continue to invest and innovate, but it cultivates an environment of deep thinking and inspiration in its staff, making it a more rewarding place to work and in turn easier to recruit the best possible staff, thus creating a virtuous circle.

Sounds great, doesn't it?

Unfortunately, many of these authorities have not been able to work out how to cope with the recent cutbacks to local government funding and have misguidedly and shortsightedly decided to divest, losing a wealth of knowledge and expertise with the staff that they make redundant. The consequences of which are already becoming clear: standards will fall.

Some Local Authorities are not of the creative, forward thinking type at all. These are the authorities that conjure up the stereotype that inspectors, consultants and advisers are just a bunch of failed teachers or folk who could not hack it in the classroom. The fact is, and there is little point in denying it, that many are.

Some local authorities are sanctuaries for the unhinged, loopy or incompetent. But, of course, such is the cosiness of local government employment that you can be as stark raving mad as you like without any risk of losing your job. So, as though put out to pasture from the schools from which they came, scores of men and women in ill-fitting cords, checked shirts, shapeless frocks or aging suits, plod around the dusty corridors of county hall with the pressures of a real job long since lost in the memory.

This would all be fine if they were simply left to amuse themselves with crosswords and lovely cups of tea, but alas they are sent out in to the world of schools to irritate teachers.

This irritation can take many forms – they appear incredibly skilled at creating situations likely to make an otherwise calm teacher swing for them. Imagine, if you will, it is a Baker Day. One of the few days of the year that schools shut their doors to students in order to allow time for teachers to engage in some form of professional development. This is rare. It is rare to have time to stop and think, to work with colleagues, to grow as a teacher and learn new things. So they are precious. So why is it, then, that the dispossessed, the drunk and the lame that are the plodding local authority consultants pick these days to interfere at their most?

It is not my intention to put down LAs and their staff – I pointed out that many are wonderful – but I do wonder what their purpose will be in the brave new world of Academies, Free Schools, large federations, Teaching Schools and the privitisation of education. Where will these poor old luvvies go?

I anticipate that we are not too long off a national campaign to adopt a consultant. Can you home one?

A Private Education for All?

I read a blog recently from Harry Webb, Why Conservatives are Wrong About Education. Although the blog is confused about what being a conservative actually means, there were some points that got me thinking. Really the post is about a top down, state-centric education system versus a free market approach.

Interestingly, Webb is arguing for the former – a socialist approach. Yet he ends the blog saying that all kids should be able to have the type of education those privileged to attend private schools have.

The trouble with this, of course, is that the private system is entirely about choice, it is entirely a market approach. Consumers can send their children to any school they wish and so are able to choose based on how well they think a school will perform for their child. And if the school is crap, they send them elsewhere.

An argument that bounces around a lot in education is whether schools should be able to be privatised and particularly whether they should be allowed to make a profit (interestingly, this argument often ignores the fact that there are already schools in England that make profits).

As a conservative, I do believe in the market. I believe that individuals should be at the heart of their own lives and should be trusted to make decisions for themselves.

So what if, instead of the socialist, top-down approach, we said that every single child can have a private education? What would this do to education and standards?

The starting point to this discussion needs to be to point out that economically it is entirely possible.

There are private schools that charge massive fees, but actually on the whole, the majority of the 2500 or so private schools in England do not. The price of private education has risen sharply in the last five years, but even now the average annual fees for non-boarding come it at around £11,000. And remember, this figure is skewed upwards because of the very high charging schools.

Now, in the state system the amount of funding provided per child might appear to be lower. But actually, it isn't.

I'm writing this on a flight, so these figures are from memory, but the amount of money dedicated to education that then goes in to the schools budget is around £64 billion per year.

There are approximately 8.1 million children in schooling.

This gives an average per child per year funding of around £7,900

But, and here's the real point, the amount of tax receipts dedicated to education overall is around £97 billion.

This gives a funding of around £12,000 per child per year. More than the average private school child.

So what if, instead of funding a Department for Education, Local Authorities, layers of consultancies, Quangos (or 'Executive Agencies' as they have been lovingly rebranded) and Ofsted... Instead of funding all of this... what if every single parent was simply issued with an education voucher for £12,000 per child per year? Parents could spend this voucher at any school of their choice.

Perhaps then, schools would strive to be the most attractive, schools might want to shout about their grades and extra-curricular offers and so on.

This is what running a private school is like. Having to attract enough students to make the venture economically viable. And parents having choice. And when consumers have choice, they choose the best they can get.

I'm neither advocating this approach or saying that it shouldn't happen, it's just that Harry Webb's blog made me think it might be worth a debate.

Of course, as a libertarian, my instincts are to allow the money to go straight to the parents and schools in this way. I baulk at the billions that are wasted and would rather local communities were given the ability to set their own destinies.

I understand that this is the socialist's nightmare – to trust individuals – and that they feel the need to control and nanny. But what if a free market approach could lead to bettering the life chances of everyone in our society?

I'd love to hear what people think about this in both camps. I'd be interested to be convinced that the socialists are right. Or a 'third way'?

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.