DfE – the E is for ‘Evaluation’

So what was the point of some fools from Twitter talking to the DfE and an MP for 90 minutes? Well it was fun, I enjoyed it and it was a genuine pleasure to meet some of the many people I follow and respect on Twitter in person. But on reflection, I don’t know what the point was.

 
I think this mainly because there was no set agenda – well there was but we didn’t know it beforehand. We were an eclectic bunch too. I think if we had been picked for any other reason apart from we’re mouthy on Twitter and we blog, then, well I wouldn’t necessarily know what that reason was. We all care deeply about education, but our fields of expertise were disparate to say the least. That’s not a bad thing but did it contribute significantly to what the DfE wanted out of it? I don’t know, maybe they’ll blog about it.
It could have been more structured with a stronger facilitator. We did get side-tracked by ofsted, we couldn’t help ourselves but you could almost see their eyes glaze over when we did. I wanted them to say, ‘Oi, enough you lot. Let’s go back to the curriculum!’

 
As for Elizabeth Truss MP, well she turned up, she listened. It was quite impressive actually she was obviously listening before she actually entered the room because the minute she sat down, midway through someone’s point, she was nodding and muttering ‘yes, yes.’ under her breath – I was impressed. It was a bit irritating that she was constantly distracted by her phone and her assistant who kept bustling up to her to say in a hushed whisper ‘the car’s not going to be available’ or ‘the car is now available’ and finally ‘I’m not sure if the car is here or available’. But she certainly has the politician’s knack for swooping in and out of conversations with the appearance of knowing what was fully being explored despite being somewhere else entirely. She asked us questions, she listened to our answers and wrote down either our ideas to take forward or our names so she could plot our removal from the whole education system. Actually I noticed that on her piece of paper were little biographies of all of us and I tell you what? I need to seriously improve my twitter following, compared to everyone else I was a nobody! I could see it in Truss’s eyes when she looked at me as if to say ‘You don’t belong here!’ Maybe not, but I do know about differentiation which was more than some people.

 
But look, I don’t want to get into politician bashing just for the hell of it. I appreciated the opportunity and the time everyone took out of their day to attend and their willingness to have an honest and open discussion. What will it achieve…well I guess time will tell and hey, given the pace of change in recent times maybe we won’t have to wait that long. And if changes do happen because of what we said and you don’t like them, please write to:

@imagineinquiry, @cherrylkd, @debrakidd, @educationbear, @emmaannhardy, @heymisssmith and @thought_weavers:

they made me say it!

Judge Me!

Lesson judgements: how valuable are they? A different question to how ‘valued’ are they? (Which if you believe what you read on Twitter the answer is um, well, what’s the least valued thing you own? Well smash it to pieces with a hammer and chuck it in the sea and you kind of get the idea.) I do however find them valuable. I don’t consider a lesson judgement to be the sealed fate of a teacher but they can help support an evolving picture of teaching and learning in someone’s classroom. They can also be the springboard for a quality discussion about a lesson that can lead into deeper discussions about pedagogy and teaching styles which for me is a welcome break from talking about pay policy, universal free school meals and whatever changes have been made to the new renewed just published finalised next draft of the Ofsted inspection framework.

On this particular matter of being pro-lesson judgements you are going to have to imagine that when I discuss the judgement with the teacher it is done nicely, appropriately and fairly. I appreciate that is a pretty big ask but just run with it.

Putting it bluntly (and this is not meant to represent the manner in which I offer my feedback and judgement) I think it is good for teachers to know:

a) How that individual lesson stood up against whatever observation criteria you are using in order to provide some kind of ‘benchmark’.

b) How that lesson contributes to the other evidence used to make a judgement of quality of teaching over time.

c) That I know what I’m talking about.

Anyone who has had to give a less than ‘good’ judgement during feedback will know that it is at those times that reason c) seems the most important. It’s one thing for a teacher to feel rubbish (because we all do when we’re told any part of our practice is not good) but at least they can be told by someone they trust. And again, you’re going to have to take my word for it that I know a thing or two about teaching…seriously just go with me here.

I think in reality, it is reason b) which has become vitally important to get across very, very loudly and clearly when feeding back and sharing a judgement. Not only because I feel that the most important judgement is that of quality of teaching over time rather than quality of teaching within an hour but also because it is the one reason that teachers tend not to hear no matter how clearly you try to make it. (Talk about a positive sandwich; teachers tend to need an extra side order of happy chips with an extra thick affirmative milkshake with a cherry on top – even then they’ll still focus on the hair that was found in the middle of the first bite)

So in case I haven’t made my thoughts clear: I like judging lessons.

But…

          But…

                       But…

Something happened recently that made me adapt my opinion. I haven’t changed my mind – I still think dissecting a lesson in order to make a judgement is still a perfectly sound and effective way of developing teaching BUT I’m wondering if it is more effective to share this with teachers when it isn’t about their teaching.

Let me explain: during a recent set of interviews, a teacher joined me in the lesson observations section. Throughout the lessons we were able to discuss what was happening and I was able to challenge the teacher into considering why a lesson had ‘tipped’ into RI or had become inadequate. Afterwards, the teacher reflected and said how they had found it interesting to see the process of judging lessons ‘from the other side’ and how by being detached from the teaching they were able to see more clearly the points at which during an individual lesson, judgements begin to get formed.

What followed was a short discussion about how these individual lessons could impact upon pupil achievement if the quality of the teaching remained at that level for a sustained period of time. Suddenly it became clear why an RI lesson needs to be analysed and issues addressed so that key pupils make progress rather than get left behind. The teacher said it was a genuinely interesting and valuable experience and possibly more so than their own observations.

So I began to wonder if it would be beneficial for all teachers to see all ranges of lessons done by other teachers. There would be no emotional attachment that can cloud key messages, opportunities to consider the impact of repeated exposure of unsuccessful lessons on pupil progress and the chance to compare particular lesson traits with your own. It’s a safe way to make strong judgements that can really support teachers improve and develop their own teaching.

It sounds ideal; there’s just one problem. How can I make sure teachers see unsuccessful lessons? Well I could constantly interview and select the worst candidates: not sure HR would approve. I could set up peer observations across the school and hope that most of the lessons are appalling – not sure that’s a particularly healthy way to run a school. Or I could teach. I could deliberately teach poor lessons and invite teachers to observe me and together we could identify why my lesson was not good. Although I am an outstanding teacher and like to think my staff agree and consider me to my a wise and knowledgeable  professional who knows how to successfully move every child on: I probably could force myself to teach inadequately time and time again. (Now, call me paranoid but I sense you are all finding that bit quite easy to believe!)

A Gift From Above

I know that Twitter is occasionally like the online staffroom – that safe haven where teachers and staff can (quite rightly) get things off their chest. And I know that what staff quite often want to get off their chest is the latest initiative that is causing their workload to resemble the never-ending story –except that at the end of term you won’t be flying atop a massive flying rodent with a moustache. Occasionally, the staff room is also the place to (whisper it) BITCH about senior leaders.

It is this element of the staffroom/Twitter comparison that I find the most uncomfortable. Not just because I am pathetically needy and want everyone in the real and virtual work to think that I’m great. Nor because it is necessarily untrue.

No, I find it most uncomfortable because

  1. Nothing I say about the virtues of my leadership or the fantastic Heads I know will stop others from thinking ‘Yeah but what do you know, you’re a Head…you probably wouldn’t know a successful lesson if it kicked you in the Ed Balls*: you’re too busy chasing the Ofsted golden ticket of outstanding like some deranged OmpaLumpa in a suit: you disgust me.’
  2. Nothing I say will make those depressed, deflated or damaged teachers feel better.
  3. Nothing I say will improve YOUR SLTs.

So what’s a Head to do?

Well, all I will say is this:

If you truly see absolutely no value in the people who are leading your school then you should leave. I know, I know: that’s not fair; it’s not you who should have to leave it’s them. But face it, if you’re in a situation where their exit looks unlikely then why put yourself through it? Please don’t say ‘for the sake of the children’. Again, I know that sounds mean and callous but the damage being done to them by poor leadership is greater than the good they have with you for one year. If you want to feel valued as a teacher you must work in a place where you feel valued and where that sense of worth is reflected back onto the SLT. It is the strategic direction of the school that impacts most heavily on the achievement and future achievement of children. I truly believe this.

As a teacher I worked in a school where the thought of me ‘not’ being there for the children sickened me. They were disadvantaged, didn’t see the point in school and were deemed so unlikely to succeed it would break your heart. It was a privilege to teach them and to see them succeed. But when the leadership of the school began to crumble I could see that no matter what I did, no matter what magic I achieved in the classroom: it wouldn’t have a lasting impact. Except maybe in years to come some of them might think back and say that they quite enjoyed my lessons but that isn’t good enough.

So I left. Did I run away? Did I let those children down? Maybe. But not as much as those getting paid a lot more than me let them down. I saw a window of opportunity where I could have a greater impact on more children for a sustained period of time and I took it. And I’ve never looked back-partly because it was too painful.

Ok, let’s cheer things up.

If you really don’t want to leave then try this: Even though I’m a wonderful leader to the point where I’m probably written into most staff members’ last will and testament, I do think that ensuring a school’s leadership team are effective, strategic, good at their job and nice to people is pretty darn important.

So to achieve this in my current school my SLT are at this very moment creating a code of conduct for SLT. I am very happy to share its current daft with you fine people. It is a draft based on discussions we have had about taking the school forward and represents what we want to say about ourselves and hopefully what others will say about us.

You will see that the draft is in two colours: the black writing is the official document and the red writing is the official document but in plain English. I call this version the ‘idiot’s guide to SLT’ and we’re using it to make sure that everyone in SLT gets it…because you can’t be too sure!

SLT Code of Conduct idiot’s guide

So, read it, tell me what you think.  If you like it why not photocopy it and leave it in the Head’s office or under their windscreen wipers or use it as their screensaver. All I know is that I’m proud to be a school leader. I think I’m good at it. I think I can unify and lead a load of people in a direction that could help children achieve. But I also respect the job too much to risk it being ruined by some of the behaviours described on Twitter in recent months so I won’t let it happen and here is how I intend to start.

*I appreciate Ed Balls is a rather old education reference but I could hardly have used Tristram Hunt could I…that would be rude.