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I’d rather have a Margaret Thatcher state school than a Michael Gove one I’d rather have a Margaret Thatcher state school than a Michael Gove one
(7 months later)
The other week, my six-year-old daughter had one of her school friends over for tea, and the two of them decided to have a read of Julia Donaldson’s The Snail and the Whale. For anyone who doesn’t know, it’s the story of a worldwide voyage jointly undertaken by the titular animals, with lovely subtexts about friendship and co-operation, and some brilliantly executed dramatic tension.The other week, my six-year-old daughter had one of her school friends over for tea, and the two of them decided to have a read of Julia Donaldson’s The Snail and the Whale. For anyone who doesn’t know, it’s the story of a worldwide voyage jointly undertaken by the titular animals, with lovely subtexts about friendship and co-operation, and some brilliantly executed dramatic tension.
At our local state primary school, my daughter’s class do brilliant work inspired by it – building a huge humpback whale out of household rubbish, learning about the same creature’s migration paths, and so on. But that afternoon, such things receded into the distance, as my daughter’s friend looked intently at the text, tuned out of the actual story, and began to pick out the word types: “Noun … verb … noun … verb.”At our local state primary school, my daughter’s class do brilliant work inspired by it – building a huge humpback whale out of household rubbish, learning about the same creature’s migration paths, and so on. But that afternoon, such things receded into the distance, as my daughter’s friend looked intently at the text, tuned out of the actual story, and began to pick out the word types: “Noun … verb … noun … verb.”
This, you might think, is a good thing: an early grasp of the nuts and bolts of language that will make future learning all the easier. But soon enough, it will form one small part of a huge formalistic leviathan that will probably sit in the midst of children’s learning like an incurable headache. My daughter and her friends will be moving on to relative clauses, before the really fun stuff: subject and object, subjunctive forms, and synonyms and antonyms.This, you might think, is a good thing: an early grasp of the nuts and bolts of language that will make future learning all the easier. But soon enough, it will form one small part of a huge formalistic leviathan that will probably sit in the midst of children’s learning like an incurable headache. My daughter and her friends will be moving on to relative clauses, before the really fun stuff: subject and object, subjunctive forms, and synonyms and antonyms.
From this year, 11-year-olds will sit tests whose absurd content is showcased in sample papers issued by the government: “Tick one box to show which part of the sentence is a relative clause … Tick one box in each row to show how the modal verb affects the meaning of the sentence … Circle all the conjunctions in the sentences below.”From this year, 11-year-olds will sit tests whose absurd content is showcased in sample papers issued by the government: “Tick one box to show which part of the sentence is a relative clause … Tick one box in each row to show how the modal verb affects the meaning of the sentence … Circle all the conjunctions in the sentences below.”
I was taught three to a desk, but the teaching had no end of things going for itI was taught three to a desk, but the teaching had no end of things going for it
For all the headlines last week about the supposedly soaring achievements of some English schools, this is the awful place at which a great deal of state education has arrived – thanks chiefly to the changes in the national curriculum pushed through by Michael Gove between 2012 and 2014.For all the headlines last week about the supposedly soaring achievements of some English schools, this is the awful place at which a great deal of state education has arrived – thanks chiefly to the changes in the national curriculum pushed through by Michael Gove between 2012 and 2014.
Obviously, the grimness extends well beyond English lessons – not least into maths where, despite 40-odd years of metrication, the rote-learning of arithmetic still inexplicably includes times tables up to 12. And it inevitably runs from primary into maintained secondary schools, which are now in thrall to what one high-ranking headteacher calls a “1960s grammar school curriculum”. Such subjects as art and drama are being pushed to the margins, and even the humanities are under question. “The subjects to keep young people’s options open are Stem subjects – science, technology, engineering and maths,” says Gove’s successor, Nicky Morgan.Obviously, the grimness extends well beyond English lessons – not least into maths where, despite 40-odd years of metrication, the rote-learning of arithmetic still inexplicably includes times tables up to 12. And it inevitably runs from primary into maintained secondary schools, which are now in thrall to what one high-ranking headteacher calls a “1960s grammar school curriculum”. Such subjects as art and drama are being pushed to the margins, and even the humanities are under question. “The subjects to keep young people’s options open are Stem subjects – science, technology, engineering and maths,” says Gove’s successor, Nicky Morgan.
What is all this about, and where does it come from? One self-evident factor is the longstanding – and, it seems, worsening – subjugation of education to a mess of targets, league tables and spreadsheets compiled in case of the inevitable visit to a school from Ofsted, which too often reduces education to the desiccated nonsense insiders call “teaching to the test”.What is all this about, and where does it come from? One self-evident factor is the longstanding – and, it seems, worsening – subjugation of education to a mess of targets, league tables and spreadsheets compiled in case of the inevitable visit to a school from Ofsted, which too often reduces education to the desiccated nonsense insiders call “teaching to the test”.
Another is a pretty obvious set of cultural prejudices, rooted in Conservative dogma and the fact that so many high-ranking Tory MPs went to private schools. Five years ago, Gove was loudly decrying progressive education and declaring war on the supposed vested liberal interests he called “the Blob”; now we see the consequences of what he was up to.Another is a pretty obvious set of cultural prejudices, rooted in Conservative dogma and the fact that so many high-ranking Tory MPs went to private schools. Five years ago, Gove was loudly decrying progressive education and declaring war on the supposed vested liberal interests he called “the Blob”; now we see the consequences of what he was up to.
Related: 'Massively' improved state schools threaten private sector
How strange to look back 30-plus years and realise that my time at school coincided with a momentary flowering of modern education methods, which were positively futuristic by 2016’s standards. At my state primary, there were no uniforms, nor many doors. We were eventually taught to identify nouns and verbs, but most of our reading and writing was focused on just that, and rote-learning in maths or any other subject was kept to a minimum.How strange to look back 30-plus years and realise that my time at school coincided with a momentary flowering of modern education methods, which were positively futuristic by 2016’s standards. At my state primary, there were no uniforms, nor many doors. We were eventually taught to identify nouns and verbs, but most of our reading and writing was focused on just that, and rote-learning in maths or any other subject was kept to a minimum.
By the end, my classmates and I were enthusiastically learning French, and doing projects about the finer points of the English civil war. From my time at secondary school, I owe my love of Philip Larkin to an English teacher more interested in literary depth than subordinate clauses (Mr Tibbetts, if he’s reading this). For a brief time, I was even taken with the abstract magic of maths. Nothing was perfect – it was the 1980s, when Tory neglect of state schools meant we were taught three to a desk, in temporary classrooms that shook when trains went past – but the way we were taught had no end of things going for it.By the end, my classmates and I were enthusiastically learning French, and doing projects about the finer points of the English civil war. From my time at secondary school, I owe my love of Philip Larkin to an English teacher more interested in literary depth than subordinate clauses (Mr Tibbetts, if he’s reading this). For a brief time, I was even taken with the abstract magic of maths. Nothing was perfect – it was the 1980s, when Tory neglect of state schools meant we were taught three to a desk, in temporary classrooms that shook when trains went past – but the way we were taught had no end of things going for it.
The problem is, the likes of me – and more importantly the droves of parents I regularly hear sounding more and more anxious about what is happening – are not the people anyone in government wants to listen to.The problem is, the likes of me – and more importantly the droves of parents I regularly hear sounding more and more anxious about what is happening – are not the people anyone in government wants to listen to.
Last weekend, a smattering of front-page stories announced that parents who would have hitherto chosen private schools are now opting for state education, a story relayed by Ralph Lucas, a hereditary peer and old Etonian who edits The Good Schools Guide (“the bible for middle-class school choice”). There were no statistics to back him up, but a source close to Nicky Morgan was delighted: an alleged flight of tiny numbers of middle-class people from private schools to the state sector was apparently “a ringing endorsement of our efforts to raise standards, restore rigour and tackle the soft bigotry of low expectations”, and proof that the government was duty-bound to “turbo-charge our reforms”.Last weekend, a smattering of front-page stories announced that parents who would have hitherto chosen private schools are now opting for state education, a story relayed by Ralph Lucas, a hereditary peer and old Etonian who edits The Good Schools Guide (“the bible for middle-class school choice”). There were no statistics to back him up, but a source close to Nicky Morgan was delighted: an alleged flight of tiny numbers of middle-class people from private schools to the state sector was apparently “a ringing endorsement of our efforts to raise standards, restore rigour and tackle the soft bigotry of low expectations”, and proof that the government was duty-bound to “turbo-charge our reforms”.
Related: How Michael Gove's reforms drove me out of teaching
The Sunday Times ran a story on the same subject, headlined “Why even the rich are choosing state over private education”. It was a pretty contemptible mess of received opinion and thinly veiled snobbery (in the 70s and 80s, said the author, comprehensive schools were “almost uniformly awful”). But its central message was clear: in the eyes of some, an increasing number of state schools are now just like private ones, only with bigger class sizes.The Sunday Times ran a story on the same subject, headlined “Why even the rich are choosing state over private education”. It was a pretty contemptible mess of received opinion and thinly veiled snobbery (in the 70s and 80s, said the author, comprehensive schools were “almost uniformly awful”). But its central message was clear: in the eyes of some, an increasing number of state schools are now just like private ones, only with bigger class sizes.
The institutions in question were variously described as among the “highest-performing” schools, often “punishingly selective”, and newly comfortable with “elitism”. Readers, moreover, were essentially told to rejoice – not just because people who might once have paid for education are now OK with state schools, but because public education is being revolutionised in line with their messed-up mixture of snobbery, hidebound traditionalism and the neurotic idea that their kids must “achieve” at all costs. Meanwhile, what education – state education – should be about is withering, at speed.The institutions in question were variously described as among the “highest-performing” schools, often “punishingly selective”, and newly comfortable with “elitism”. Readers, moreover, were essentially told to rejoice – not just because people who might once have paid for education are now OK with state schools, but because public education is being revolutionised in line with their messed-up mixture of snobbery, hidebound traditionalism and the neurotic idea that their kids must “achieve” at all costs. Meanwhile, what education – state education – should be about is withering, at speed.
Well, I want it back. How grim that creativity and critical thinking should be under such attack, by people who fail to grasp a point so basic as to seem banal: that education emphasising cold formalities over substance is not really education at all. How awful, too, to be looking ahead to the progress of your own children, and suddenly feeling an unfamiliar sense of dread.Well, I want it back. How grim that creativity and critical thinking should be under such attack, by people who fail to grasp a point so basic as to seem banal: that education emphasising cold formalities over substance is not really education at all. How awful, too, to be looking ahead to the progress of your own children, and suddenly feeling an unfamiliar sense of dread.