Rank me, Yank me.

Vitality Curve. Sounds kind of sexy doesn’t it. I don’t know if you’re meant to have a big one or small one, but either way, I want one. As I sashay down the corridors of power, I want people to stop and literally gawp as they are overcome by my mighty vitality curve: ‘Phwoar,’ they’ll say. ‘Check out his vitality curve.’

That was until I actually realised that a vitality curve is a leadership construct akin to forced ranking. Those of you familiar with the story of Enron, the energy company behind one of the biggest corporate scandals in living history, may know it by a different name: Rank and Yank. In terms of sexiness, I’d have stuck with vitality curve. A rank and yank sounds like something a teenage boy would do whilst skimming the pages of Nuts magazine.

In reality, Rank and Yank is as unpleasant as it sounds: a form of corporate triage. Through evaluations, you reward the top performing 15% of your workforce, do nothing to the average 70% and get rid of the lower 15%. The thinking is, that by relentlessly firing the underperformers and incentivising everyone else by rewarding the top performers, you will magically ensure that the overall performance of your workplace improves. Anyone who has run an organisation, and has had to judge individuals’ performances as a consequence, will know that this is a dangerously over simplistic and crude model with which to make a long-term and sustained impact on overall effectiveness.

When performance related pay was introduced to the teaching profession, it was the possibility of this model being deployed by every Head and Governing Body in the land that set teachers’ teeth on edge. And, although I have in the past been upfront about how I do consider the ‘cost’ implications of every asset and resource that I hope will raise pupil achievement, I don’t believe in a rank and yank system for human beings. I do believe in nurture and support. Holding people to account, especially those that are ‘failing’ is a delicate and difficult task. If you are to do it properly, and sleep at night, you need to make damn sure that you, yes you, have done everything you can to enable that person to improve and develop first. You have to properly invest in people; as the saying goes: You get out what you put in.

And so I come to Nicky Morgan, who, rather bizarrely, blames the media for putting people off teaching. Yep, the person who bangs on about ‘coasting’ schools without properly defining what the term means; the person who insists that forced academies are the answer without acknowledging the number of failing academies out there; the person who plans to send in ‘hit squads’ to replace failing Heads, is complaining that it’s the media, rather than her own choice use of vernacular, that is causing hard working teachers to leave the profession.

This is like the big bad wolf blaming the little pigs for being too delicious rather than acknowledge his own rather rigid dietary requirements as the cause of the reoccurring demolition of property in the local area. It’s daft, ignores the real problem and shows a staggering lack of self-awareness. I mean, Gove was an evil genius but at least he knew it was ‘him’ who was winding the profession up.

Morgan needs to seriously consider the very real implications of the words flowing from her ministerial thesaurus, as well as the political ideology she is applying to raising standards of education across the country. She is in danger of putting in place her very own rank and yank system and it is this that is turning the profession against her. Not the media.

As more and more members of our profession consider embarking on that awfully big adventure away from teaching, Morgan would be better served rethinking her rhetoric rather than laying the blame at the press’s feet. Imagine if she came out as our saviour rather than our destroyer. Imagine if every time she was on the telly she was waxing lyrical about how she planned to improve education with us rather than claim it was something to be done in spite of us? What if she gave clear clarification to existing terminology rather than inventing new woolly and yet strangely menacing jargon with which to go hunting? (Just take RI. It actually means Requires Improvement but, after listening to Morgan’s Queen’s speech on the education bill, you would be forgiven for thinking that it actually meant Raid Imminently.) Would so many of us be feeling like leaving if she came out and said that education was a damn tricky business and what was required was time and joined up thinking and not a single, foolhardy, dangerous and daft strategy such as forced academies? Probably not.

I wonder if Morgan worries that, post-election, we would consider such a volte-face a sign of weakness or that we would consider her to be a harbourer of low standards? If that’s the case then I’d like to reassure her that no, of course we wouldn’t. I mean, I’m sure she (unlike Gove) is against the death penalty; that doesn’t mean we all think she’s soft on crime. If she came out and talked with sense and sensibility, she wouldn’t need to worry about the press’s influence on teachers, she’d have us in the palm of her hand. She could stand before us, with all her vitality curves swinging in the wind and we’d clap and we’d whoop and we’d declare her the Minister for Education that we’ve been waiting for.

Alas, I fear we may never experience such a euphoric moment. I fear that as we continue to be ranked, more of us will be yanked. We can only hope that when the school of cards comes crashing down, the press – those that at present Morgan blames for the latest teacher disappearing act – will sharpen their quills and let her have it.

True Ofsted conversations #2

Like peeling away the layers of an onion, the results of talking to Ofsted, often make you cry.
Warning: like peeling away the layers of an onion, the results of talking to Ofsted can make you cry.

There’s nothing I like more than a robust conversation with someone who knows their onions. The opportunity to engage and participate with an Ofsted inspector therefore, should be the allium equivalent of downing a pint of French Onion Soup: a prospect that, in theory, I heartily relish the thought of. How disappointing it is then, that in my career, after certain conversations with lead inspectors (or the ‘head chefs’, if I’m going to run with this onion/cooking metaphor), I’m usually left with a rather unpleasant taste in my mouth. Not because I’m afraid of challenge but because, well…they’ve tended to be a few onions short of a dopiaza.

Take this recent exchange between myself, a lead inspector and their team, on the subject of pupil behaviour.

Lead Inspector

They’re very confident your children aren’t they?

Head

Well, it’s nice for children to have a bit of confidence, don’t you think?

Lead Inspector

Your children seem very confident though don’t they?

Head

I’m not sure I follow. Has something happened?

Lead Inspector

No, but in the playground, I could tell that they’re very confident children. Sometimes confidence can become arrogance.

Head

Sometimes, yes.

Lead Inspector

We all know communities like yours.

Head

Come again?

Lead Inspector

This is a very middle class community, sometimes these families can be rather challenging of authority.

Head

Well, any school community can be challenging. This school had suffered from instability with regards to the senior leadership in the years before my appointment and I think that this may have made some families not trust the school. But I think we’ve come a long way since then. The children’s behaviour has certainly improved over time.

Additional Inspector 1

In what way?

Head

Well, I think for many pupils, especially the older ones, they hadn’t experienced a consistent approach for most of their time here. It wasn’t surprising that they didn’t buy into our new whole school approach to learning and behaviour from the very start, because, for all they knew, it could all change again at the drop of a hat. But, over time, systems have been embedded and they’ve gradually become more effective as the children saw that they were staying and that more importantly they were working.

Lead Inspector

But you’re saying the older ones challenge authority?

Head

No I think you’re saying that.

Lead Inspector

They seem very confident. Sometimes this can come across as arrogance, or even rudeness.

Head

Yes, so you keep saying. Is that your way of telling me that some children have been rude to you?

Lead Inspector (to the other inspectors)

Have any of the children been rude?

Additional Inspector 2

Well, I was talking to some children on the playground and I got the impression that they could become rude.

Lead Inspector

I see.

(Lead inspector starts scribbling something down on her EF)

Head

Sorry I don’t see. Are you saying that some children were actually rude to you?

Additional Inspector 2

No, but they definitely had the manner of children that could become rude.

Head

But they weren’t?

Additional Inspector 2

No. But I could see how they might challenge authority figures.

Head

But they didn’t challenge you and they weren’t rude?

Additional Inspector 2

No

Lead Inspector

I see, but it was clear that their behaviour could tip into rudeness – I must write this down.

Head

Hang on, hang on. You see this mug here?

Lead Inspector

Yes.

Head

Well, I could, I ‘could’, pick it up and throw it at you. I might even look like I’m going to pick it up and throw it at you. But until I do pick it up and throw it at you, you can’t actually say that I picked it up or that I threw it at you.

Lead Inspector

Your point?

Head

My point is, that until one of my pupils is actually rude to you, I don’t think it’s fair for you to judge them based on what you think they might, could, possibly, maybe, slight chance that they will, would, may do.

Lead Inspector

Let’s move on to learning behaviours.

Additional Inspector 1

Ah, now I have to say that all the pupils I saw were really engaged with what they were doing.

Additional Inspector 2

Yes, they were really keen to talk to me about what it was their teacher was teaching them and what they had learnt.

Head

Oh, that’s really good to hear. We’ve really worked on –

Lead Inspector

Were they challenged?

Head

Pardon?

Lead Inspector

It sounds like they were completing tasks that were too easy.

Head

Where did you get that from?

Additional Inspector 2

Hmm, I suppose they were explaining tasks.

Lead Inspector

Exactly. Not describing the learning. Were they easily distracted?

Additional Inspector 2

Well they were very keen to talk to me.

Lead Inspector

(Writing) So…easily…distracted…from…simplistic…tasks.

Head

Hang on a second here folks, children showing off their work to an inspector is not the same as children being easily distracted.

Lead Inspector

But they were explaining tasks. Because they weren’t being taught anything.

Head

I’m pretty sure the tasks were allowing them to either acquire a better understanding of something relatively new or consolidating their learning. You don’t learn if you don’t get a chance to practise.

Lead Inspector

But they’re not being moved on swiftly enough. That’s why they’re getting bored.

Head

Who said they were getting bored?

(pause)

Additional Inspector 2

I did see a child look out of a window.

Lead Inspector

Oh dear.

Head

What?

Lead Inspector

They’re not being challenged, that’s why they’re switching off

Head

Switching off? Maybe they were thinking?

Additional Inspector 2

And one child, just got up, in the middle of the lesson, and tapped the electronic whiteboard that had just gone to sleep.

Head

So, he used his initiative to wake up the whiteboard so he could carry on with his work.

Lead Inspector

There’s that over confidence again though, don’t you see?

Head

No. I don’t see.

Additional Inspector 2

It was like he didn’t have to get permission from the adult. He felt he could just get up and make a decision that impacted on everybody else.

Head

Yeah, it did, it made sure they could get on with their work. Good on him, I say.

Lead Inspector

And this is the problem. You just don’t seem able to see the poor behaviour in your school.

Head

I can’t actually believe you’re genuinely claiming that a child looking out of a window, a child tapping a white board and children excitedly talking about their work is proof that behaviour is poor.

Lead Inspector

Oh I’m not just saying that it’s poor. I’m not even saying that it requires improvement. I’m saying that, combined with the rudeness, it’s almost inadequate.

Additional Inspector 1

Just to play devil’s advocate here for a second. The children we’ve spoken to say they enjoy school, they enjoy their lessons and they’re keen to please their teachers. The children I’ve observed have really enjoyed getting stuck into their lessons and have been really engaged. The children all talk positively about the behaviour policy and they seem to think that behaviour has improved over the last couple of years. They say that there aren’t any bullies although there are some naughty children but that the school is helping them with their behaviour. All the children have talked consistently about the standards of behaviour expected of them. ParentView is broadly positive about behaviour. I guess what I’m wondering, the question I want to ask is: are we really saying that the examples of passive learning we’ve highlighted is enough evidence to say that behaviour across the entire school is inadequate?

Head

Thank you. At last. Some common sense. I like you.

Additional Inspector 1

Thank you. I just think it’s worth us having that discussion.

Lead Inspector

Well.

(pause)

Lead Inspector

Shall we agree RI?

Additional Inspector 1

I can live with that.

Head

What?

Additional Inspector 2

Agreed.

Head

I think you all better leave now.

Lead Inspector

Why?

Head

I’ve got a horrible feeling I’m about to pick up that mug.

 

 

 

You want a piece of me?

Serious question, asked @yorkshireht, how long do you think you can survive the pressure of headship over a career?

I love education. I absolutely adore it. It consumes me. It fills me up, right up until I’m fit to burst. Like a stick of Brighton rock, ‘education’ runs right through me.

And, believe me when I say that I love education in all its forms. I love the:

children, laughs, graft, pressure, data, policies, learning, breakthroughs, frustrations, changes, growth, teachers, playgrounds, trips, topics, behaviour, detentions, planning, marking, failures, ofsted, support staff, local authority, friends, colleagues, peers, social workers, therapists, parents, innovations, camaraderie, help, governors, arguments, struggles, budgets, office, safeguarding, displays, corridors, libraries, subjects, homework…

I could go on but I think you get the point. There is nothing I would rather spend my time doing than contributing to the legacy of education. It’s noble. It’s honest. It makes a difference. It’s a privilege.

You get me working in your school and, you might not get the best headteacher in the world, but you sure do get a devoted one.

I will be yours and I will act on your behalf at all times. No matter what stake you hold within the community, I have your best interests at heart and I will never give up the belief that we are going to make it, together.

Odd then that my response to @yorkshireht would be: not sure how long I can sustain my role in education.

Why is that? I’m not old. I’ve not been doing it for that long. Why on earth would I want to get out?

It’s not, despite where you think this could be going, the workload. I’m at my happiest when I’m busy. You know that manic feeling in Term 2, just between the assessment deadline and Christmas, I think that’s the most wonderful time of the year. I revel in firing on all cylinders. So when I hear about the endless changes coming our way from way up high, I don’t necessarily baulk. I may not embrace but I aim to embed. I enjoy the challenge of making it work and I’m proud that, as a profession, we constantly evolve.

It’s also not because demands have increased or goalposts have changed. Although yes, both of these facts are making my job quite tricksy. I’ve always been a pretty calm and collected frood, but even I can feel those stress-related behaviours seeping out of me as I try to improve upon the already improved-higher standards that are now expected to be higher than they were last time I blinked. But as I said earlier…I like change, so, no, it’s not because the demands are increasing.

So what is it, I hear no one ask.

I think what is slowly grinding me down is the growing perception that schools, Heads and teachers are public property. Now, I know we work on behalf of the public and I know that we should, quite rightly, be held accountable for anything written in our job descriptions. I understand this and accept it wholeheartedly. But over time this has become confused with being accountable for things that any individual just doesn’t happen to like. There is a growing public mind-set that if something is not liked, not only must it be expressed, but it should also, by virtue of having been communicated, change. This is also the case for individuals’ misunderstanding of national policy or educational headlines: we must respond to what they think and any attempt to ‘put them straight’ through use of our knowledge is smeared as subterfuge, back-peddling and uncaring unprofessionalism.

It cannot be a coincidence that I am feeling this during an era where the profession is on its knees begging for its professional stature to be handed back. When people are told that they can create their own schools with their own curriculums, why should the state maintained parent care what their local school has to say anymore? When schools can appoint unqualified teachers then why shouldn’t parents tell the qualified ones what to do too? If any school can be a coasting school – and no one really knows what the definition of ‘coasting’ means yet – then why should any parent feel satisfied? Why isn’t any gripe or individual’s whim worthy of whole school change?

You see, what starts out as the public, rightly, not settling for low aspirations or quality education, ends with the potential vilification of perfectly good schools and professionals, for the sake of matters of limited consequence. As this continues, so strengthens the belief that the professionals within the school are completely owned by the public, and every demand, no matter how contradictory to the last, must be enforced, or else, we are accused of apathy. The truth that schools are accountable for achievement and children’s well-being has morphed into the fallacy that we are accountable for everyone’s idea of everything else that is important as well.

As the Head, I feel this the most. I am the one expected to jump the highest whilst dancing to the largest number of tunes. Personal comments are expected to wash over me. People are allowed to judge me holistically without respecting my right to be a person and I must take it because I am a public servant. My ownership is up for grabs and every piece of me is on sale. A public servant I may be, but I feel as though my soul has become as accountable as my performance.

Something’s got to give. And I’m not sure I want it to be me.