Some grumbles on my part

Every so often I feel the need to write a ranty blog. I’m afraid this is one of those times. Apologies in advance if this is not to your taste, and I promise normal service will be resumed shortly. One cannot spend time on edu-twitter without encountering annoying tweets or blogs, though I do try very hard to curate my timeline to avoid such annoyances as much as possible. And of course, this is very subjective. What I find deeply irritating might be something celebrated by others. So, before I go any further, I will freely admit that what I am writing here are just my own personal pet peeves.

I must also assure you that these are minor ructions, and my love affair with edu-twitter remains undimmed. Being able to tap into the collective wisdom of educators across the continents is wonderfully enriching. I have learned so much through my interactions on Twitter, and even made some friends along the way. If it hadn’t been for edu-twitter, I believe I would have walked away from a career in teaching soon after my first few experiences of working in schools. If it hadn’t been for edu-twitter, I wouldn’t have landed the job I have now. Edu-twitter is overwhelmingly a good thing. However…

Some things do rub me up the wrong way. One pet peeve is poorly written blogs that get retweeted repeatedly on my timeline for being “brilliant”. I suspect this might be because they tap into the knowledge zeitgeist and use lots of elaborate syntax to dazzle people into thinking they have just read something extremely profound. To me they are poorly written because they lack coherence, paragraphs are largely absent, and instead of a clearly argued piece of writing they treat me to a long ramble that feels more like a stream of consciousness. What makes things worse, as far as I’m concerned, is that many such blogs are written by people who purport to teach English. Physician, heal thyself.

Another thing that annoys me is when I see behaviour that I can only characterise as waving a red flag to a bull. We all know there are some people on edu-twitter who are unpleasant, who tend to bully and victimise those who disagree with them. If I come across such a person, I sensibly take steps to avoid them in future (blocking is a great tool, not to be sneered at). Quite clearly, no constructive discourse can be had with such individuals, so it is best to walk away from their troublesome arena. There is no point calling these people out – all it does is give them a new target to fixate on. It then builds up into angry Twitter spats, with screenshots of outrageous tweets shared with all and sundry indignantly, thereby continuing to fan the flames. Life is too short. Don’t engage.

I get further irritated when I see some teachers boast about their long years of experience to either shut down a debate or belittle other points of views. Of course, experience matters. I don’t doubt that I will have accumulated greater wisdom five or ten years from now. But the quest for knowledge never ends. Those that claim to know it all should question their certainties and open their minds to the possibility that they might have spent years, even decades, being wrong about something. In any case, it is very poor form to try to win an argument simply by recourse to the number of years they have been teaching.

Also, what’s with all those snooty “experts” that are creeping into my timeline, showering us with condescension and disdain? “Read my book”, they say, too lazy to properly engage in an argument with those that might disagree with them. “My subject is far too complex for you mere mortals.” I’m paraphrasing a bit, but you get my gist. I have a rule of thumb about such things: the most expert of experts should be able to refute or support an argument through clear, logical reasoning that even a novice can understand. If they refuse to argue their point clearly, the suspicion arises that they don’t know all that much. I would like to see a little more humility. Some of the wisest people I know are also the most humble. I would also like to see a little more generosity. Share the fruits of what you know with others so that we may all benefit.

So there, I have got these peeves out of my system. May I ask nicely for bloggers to try to write clearly and lucidly in spare, economical terms rather than flowery language? Keep a coherent thread going through your writing if you want your readers to keep reading to the end. Be humble. Be kind. Avoid stirring up trouble. That’s it really. I hope you have had or are going to have a wonderfully restful half-term.

Teaching: The Hardest Job?

In this blog post I will argue that teaching is one of the most difficult jobs there is, and lest you think this will be one long moan about workload etc, let me assure you that I am writing in the spirit of celebration of what we do in the classroom, day in day out.

Last Friday, a colleague asked me if I had enjoyed my first half-term of teaching, and I had to be honest and say “not really”. That is understandable. As a new teacher at my school, I have had to learn so much, absorbing masses of new information to the point of cognitive overload. I have had to try to juggle lots of this information in my mind whilst trying to teach my lessons.

Teaching is a performance profession – when you perform, you cannot easily stop and check your notes to refresh your mind on what you should say or do next. You have to be prepared to think on your feet and react quickly to changing situations without the benefit of time to mull things over. It is a tricky thing to do, especially if you do not know the curriculum inside out and you are having to manage the behaviour of 30 not always co-operative children.

Now I am perfectly prepared to believe that this gets easier with time and experience. A seasoned teacher will have built a repository of phrases and responses to given situations. They will have built up a reputation within the school, making it easier to manage behaviour. They will have developed curricular expertise and have the correct terminology to hand, as well as tried and tested methods of explanation. All this makes the process of teaching easier, although it never becomes a walk in the park.

Michael Fordham argues in his blog “Teaching: a very natural act?” that fundamentally teaching is a natural act that all humans have evolved to do.

Humans have been teaching one another for as long as humans have been around. Children quite naturally teach one another (the rules to a game, the words to a rhyme) and they do not need any particular training to do this. In this sense humans are teachers by nature: without much prompting, we teach one another.

He goes on to say:

teaching is, quite simply, a matter of communicating something I know to someone who does not.

How beautifully simple and true! We do have a tendency to over-complicate it sometimes. And it is this simple and straightforward definition of teaching that initially drew me into the profession. I started by tutoring my boy at home, trying to help him move into a higher ability group. I bought maths and English booklets and worked through them with him in short evening sessions. His rapid improvement and increased confidence as a result of this tutoring gave me much satisfaction. It spurred me on. I wanted to help communicate knowledge to other children, not just my son. I walked into teaching thinking it would be an amplified version of what I had been doing at home with my son. But it was not.

I return to the wisdom of Michael Fordham. He argues that although teaching is a natural act, it is not easy. This is because the things we are teaching are complicated, unlike the rules in a playground game.

None of these things are natural: to the contrary, all are recent inventions in the greater scheme of things. Grasping the content and structure of these practices in such a way that you can explain it clearly to someone who knows less takes a great deal of time to learn. Working out the lynchpin ideas, finding the powerful examples, knowing how one concept rests on knowledge of another: these are the things that require a great deal of thought and consideration.

As I knuckle down to teach mathematical concepts or literary devices, I am reminded of this more than ever. It takes an immense amount of expertise to be able to convey complicated and sophisticated knowledge to pupils – particularly when one factors in the practical logistics of having to teach these to a large group of children.

It is unsurprising therefore that I have found the last 7 weeks less than enjoyable. I am having to do an extremely difficult job and I am not yet proficient at it. It is hard to find joy in a lack of success – particularly if you are a certain age and have been used to being good at most of what you do. Yet it has not been unalloyed misery either. One of the delights of teaching is working with young people, getting to know them and developing strong, caring relationships. I look forward to greeting my class every morning. I have had some mishaps – such as regularly walking into furniture – but I am learning to make light of them –  and each time I overcome an obstacle, such as last Friday’s technology fail, I am a little more empowered. I am also incredibly lucky to work with supportive colleagues who are doing everything they can to help me get better.

So let me say this, which I am sure most of you know already. Teaching is an incredibly hard job. It may not be valued societally as it should be – entry level civil servants earn more than teachers and have far less workload/stress. My big shot lawyer sister gets more kudos and respect for the major multi-million pound cases she works on. And yet, hand on heart, I believe my job is more difficult than hers. More difficult but also far more rewarding. As I plough on through the obstacle course that lies before me, I need to remind myself that my job is not easy and that when this is taken into consideration, I am doing very well indeed.

 

Is Cognitive Load Theory an Edu-Fad?

Two tweets on my timeline today have been the stimulus for this blog. That’s what I like about edu-twitter and why I think it’s fantastic CPD for new and experienced teachers alike. You are drawn into the most current conversations about education and these take your thinking into new directions or cement an idea already forming in your mind.

In today’s case, the two tweets were as follows, on the same issue but taking different slants. The first one was by Daryn Egan-Simon:

The second tweet that set me thinking and writing this blog was posted by Sam Strickland, the organiser of today’s ResearchEd Northampton conference, which I was sadly unable to attend. Sam shared an interesting quote from Tarjinder Gill‘s talk:

As most of you will be aware, a key part of Cognitive Load Theory is the idea that working memory is limited and can get easily overloaded. We can only retain a few bits of information in our working memory at a time, so to engage in complex thinking, we have to make use of information stored in our long-term memory, which is unlimited. To aid our pupils by-pass the constraints of working memory and to solve complex problems or write sophisticated analysis, we should focus on purposefully building schemas of information in their long-term memories that they can retrieve when needed.

Cognitive Load Theory became the latest big thing after the edu-guru, Dylan Wiliam, posted this tweet about it over two years ago.

Now as it happens, I disagree with William on this. I don’t believe Cognitive Load Theory is the most important thing for teachers to know, but I do think it is vital for curriculum leaders to know it and act on it. For to me, the greatest implication of CLT is for how we sequence curriculum to help our pupils build the knowledge base that will allow them to do all sorts of sophisticated thinking and tasks further down the line. That’s not to say it has no value for active teachers in the classroom, of course it has, but I would not rank it of the highest importance.

Tarjinder Gill’s description of working memory as a bottle neck brought back a memory of something I learned about a quarter of a century ago (yes that long) from when I was studying for my MBA. I was given a book called The Goal by Eliyahu Goldratt, which puts forward the Theory of Constraints, a management theory which focuses on finding and addressing the constraints that are creating bottle necks in the throughput of a business. I was immediately struck by the parallels between the Theory of Constraints and Cognitive Load Theory. Whilst one was formulated for business and the other for education, they both have in common this idea of bottle necks or constraints which impede either the learning or the productivity.

And I was reminded of the example that Goldratt uses in his book to illustrate the Theory of Constraints. The protagonist of the book is a character called Alex, a plant manager whose factory is struggling to manufacture and ship orders to customers on time. Alex meets an old friend called Jonah (a fictional version of Goldratt) who gets him thinking about the choke points that are constraining the factory’s output and to see that the whole factory can only move as fast as its slowest element. Later in the book, Alex gets an opportunity to put the Theory of Constraints to the test, not in his factory but on a hiking trail with his son’s scout group.

Alex notices that the single file line of scouts never manages to maintain a consistent pace, but is constantly stopping and starting. The speedy children at the front are zooming ahead, but having to stop to let Herbie, the chubby boy, catch up with them. In this context, Herbie is the choke point or bottle neck, slowing down the whole group (this book was written decades ago before we got all politically correct, so please don’t get uppity with me for talking about a chubby boy slowing everyone else down). The group can only move as fast as its slowest element – Herbie – and so it makes sense to bring Herbie to the front of the line and to lead the pace. This way, there is no constant stopping and starting. The contents of Herbie’s backpack are distributed to the other children, lightening Herbie’s load and thus helping him to walk faster.

So when Tarjinder Gill spoke of working memory as a bottle neck, I was transported back to the example I describe above. What a great way to put it! Working memory is a bottle neck. Like Herbie on the scouts trail, our pupils can only think as fast as their working memory will allow them. Overload that working memory with too many new concepts, and it will create a bottle neck. And as Herbie was helped to go faster by having the group walk behind him and the contents of his heavy backpack shared amongst them, we need to help our pupils avoid the bottle necks in their working memory by consistently building up, over time, a repository of information – the schemas – that they will need to process complex ideas and develop sophisticated thinking.

Is Cognitive Load Theory a fad, as suggested by Daryn Egan-Simon in the first tweet I shared? I believe not. It has very important implications for how we design curricula. Having CLT at the forefront of their minds will help curriculum leaders ensure that important concepts, skills and vocabulary that pupils will require are embedded and stored in long-term memory during their curricular journey in the school. This is a painstaking and time consuming process, but done well, should reap great rewards further down the line.

That’s not to say there aren’t many edu-fads still out there. I’ve only been working 4 years in the British education system, and already I have seen some big ideas come and go –  witness the current near demise of Growth Mindset. I wouldn’t be surprised if someone who has been teaching several years were to develop some healthy cynicism about the latest edu-theory. In this case, however, I think the cynicism is misplaced.