Everything Now: resisting the urge to implement too much too soon


There are so many good ideas in education at the moment – knowledge organisers, whole class feedback, multiple-choice questions, low stakes quizzing, dual coding, etc. – it is hard to keep up. I’m on board with almost all of these ideas approaches, and in this enlightened evidence-based age in which we live, it feels good to be finally doing the right thing!

And yet, I wonder that we may be in danger of repeating some of the mistakes from the past. I don’t mean we risk returning to the dark days of learning styles, multiple intelligences unfounded taxonomies and pyramids of this and that. Thankfully, I think those days are long gone. I’m more thinking that as profession we still tend to rush towards implementing each and every new idea that comes along without engaging in any real process of critical evaluation. We’ve eschewed some of the guff from the past, but I am not sure we have learnt how to handle research evidence in a disciplined way, and as a consequence we risk creating future brain gyms.

It seems to me that we are still of the mindset that when we see something new, particularly something that conforms to our biases, our eyes light up and we want to get it up and running in our classrooms as quickly as possible. This is probably why so a lot of good ideas get implemented so badly, because we don’t allow ourselves the time and space to think about how they are going to work, if at all, in our contexts. As Mark Enser points out in this excellent post, what start off as promising interventions or sensible ways of managing workloads, run the risk of getting bastardised into something less effective and even more time-consuming.

Dylan Wiliam and Graham Nuthall understand the two main threats to effective implementation: lack of practical guidance and/or lack of theoretical understanding. For Wiliam, ‘Teachers will not take up attractive sounding ideas, albeit based on extensive research, if these are presented as general principles which leave entirely to them the task of translating them into everyday practice.’ Indeed. And for Nuthall, ‘in most cases, there is a description of what to do and how to do it, but no description of why it might work. There is no explanation of the underlying learning principles.’ Again, this strikes a chord.

I would add to this a third threat: time. In my last post, I provided some advice on how to use mini whiteboards more effectively in classrooms. The post was not well read (to be fair, they never are!) which was not really a surprise. It’s not a sexy topic and most people already know how to use whiteboards well, don’t they? Maybe; maybe not. The reason I wrote the blog was because what I see time and time again is ineffective use of mini whiteboards in lessons. Too often, there appears to be a conceptual misunderstanding of their purpose, or a lack of expertise and confidence in their practical application. More time working on this simple strategy would probably make for its better use as a teaching tool. But we are always searching for something new.

Knowledge organisers are anther case in point. You only need to type the phrase into Google to see a huge disparity in what people think they are for and how they are using them with their students. I may be wrong, but I would imagine that up and down the country a lot of time and effort has gone into generating knowledge organisers, but not so much care and attention into working out exactly how they should be used with the students. Do they even work? I think they are excellent, but do we actually know if they make a difference to outcomes. Alex Quigley poses similarly troubling questions for a range of other current ideas in this thought-provoking piece.

I should stress here that I don’t see myself sitting atop any of this. I’m not scoffing at others putting into practice things they read about on Twitter or learn about at conferences. Most of it is excellent and seems eminently sensible. I am just the same as everyone else. If I see someone share something that I think sounds good, and if that thing is grounded in some kind evidence, then I am inclined to agree with it and want to bring it into my classroom and across my school. The risk of not doing something that sounds so right is often enough of an impetus to make me want to act.

It is only in the last couple of years, that I have not only learnt the value of stepping back and thinking things through, but also, importantly, developed the discipline to resist acting immediately. Often the pressures of getting results and wanting to do well by your students – whether as a class teacher or a school leader – can make it very difficult to not try new ideas and approaches. But resist we must. If we don’t allow ourselves the time to properly understand the theory and practice of a new idea, and the time to turn that theory into practice, then even the best ideas will likely fail.

Which leads me to evaluation – quite possibly the biggest thing missing from most school improvement activity, whether at the classroom or school level. I’m a huge advocate of helping to turn research evidence into practical action, but I am increasingly mindful of the need to try and evaluate the impact of any changes we make to our practice, however hard or imperfect that might be. If we don’t properly consider the impact of the changes that we introduce in our classrooms and our schools, we will never know what is worth doing what is best left alone.

Whereas earlier in my career, we tended to implement an idea from the DFE or the senior management team without any real kind of evaluation of its impact, we now tend to implement an idea from research or cognitive science without any real kind of evaluation. I’m inclined to think that these ideas, often helpfully distilled by popular educationists or other bloggers, are far superior to the days of yore, but I still think we need to hold them up to the light through the process of evaluation. Findings from fields such as cognitive science are really only the first stage of the evidence process – the bit that often takes place in the lab, or uses undergraduates and inauthentic learning materials. Whilst this is hugely important and valuable, there is another important stage, and that is the evaluations we set up in our own contexts using some variation of this simple formula: does intervention X work in context Y under Z conditions?

If we cannot answer a question like this, should we really be implementing something into our classroom or our school?

Thanks for reading.


Black, P. J. & Wiliam, D. (1998) Inside the black box: raising standards through classroom assessment

Nuthall, G. (2007) The Hidden Lives of Learners






The Unexamined Life

One of the statements on this post about educational ideas to bin in 2015 piqued my interest.* The comments relate to the apparent tedium of on-going debates on social media about the merits of progressive and traditional philosophies of teaching. According to this post, debating teaching philosophies on social media is dull and along with lesson grading (yes, I agree) and textbooks (no, I don’t agree) should be consigned to the past.

This excellent piece by Horatio Speaks does a great job in challenging some of the issues with shutting down debates about the virtues of different teaching beliefs. My interest, however, is more in keeping with the content of this post by James Theobald. I am concerned about the detrimental consequences of closing off teachers’ understanding of the forces that shape their professional lives and, in turn, their ability to make informed pedagogical choices about how they teach.

Before I joined Twitter and started reading lots of blogs and lots of books, I had no real idea there were two very distinct philosophies of teaching. Obviously, I could see some teachers taught and managed their classrooms differently, but I put this down to different skill sets and personal preferences born out of experience. There was, however, a notable uniformity of approach amongst more recently qualified teachers, which looking back I would say reflected a more progressive ethos. I never knew then about the underlying philosophies that underpinned my ‘beliefs’ about teaching or that these were even in contention.

To be honest, like most new teachers, I just assumed there was a broad consensus about the best ways for teachers to teach and for students to learn. Why on earth would the national inspectorate evaluate schools on the quality of their teaching and learning if there wasn’t a clear understanding amongst those in the know about how teachers should be teaching – what we should aspire to do in our classrooms and across our schools? It turns that those in the know, knew very little and – as the likes of Daisy Christodoulou have so eloquently shown – in many cases were advocating activities and methods that reflected a more progressive teaching philosophy.

And so it was for the first 6 or 7 years of my teaching that many of the approaches and emphasises commonly associated with progressive ideals, such as group work, active learning, creativity, relevance and the discrete development of skills, were what was promoted and expected as the norm. Conversely, more traditional leanings, such as the centrality of the teacher, individual work and the acquisition of knowledge were discouraged. This may not have been everyone’s experience, but it was certainly mine.

It has only been in recent years – and social media has played a massive role in this – that many of the values and pedagogical practices that I was trained in and led to believe were the most effective means of teaching children have been called into question. It might be hard for recently qualified teachers to appreciate, but these implicit, often progressive, beliefs about teaching were widely held and little questioned. From the content of my ITT course, the design and application of my schools’ lesson and observation proformas, the focus of our INSET sessions and, of course, the Ofsted rubrics and exam criteria that drove school behaviours, all promoted similar messages about how teachers should teach and how young people should be educated.

Now, I am not seeking to promote one teaching philosophy over another. This is not really about that, and you can probably tell where my own biases lie anyway. What I am trying to argue for is the importance of keeping this debate alive and recognising how much good has come from the resultant disagreements in recent years. Not only has it helped me (and I suspect a great many others too) to understand my own teaching trajectory, but also to make sense of the wider educational landscape.

Like James, my teaching has improved considerably in recent years – partly because of the activities and approaches that I chosen, but mostly because I understand why I have chosen them and that I now make sure they are consistent with my pedagogical beliefs. In short, I have a teaching philosophy and I think my students benefit from a consistent and coherent approach built upon principles. This would not have been possible if I did not understand the wider terms of the debate or had been exposed to different voices representing those standpoints, who either introduced me to new ideas or forced me to challenge my existing assumptions.

In the post I am responding to, the writer explains that ‘both methods exist in my school and in individual classrooms.’ I’ve also seen other people make similar comments on Twitter along the lines ‘of one day I am traditionalist and another I am progressive’. Aside from the confusion between methods and philosophies pointed out by Horatio Speaks, I think these arguments miss a couple of points. Firstly, as I have tried to illustrate, busy teachers are not necessarily as discerning as you might think. Their agency is often shaped by the dominant ideology of the institution, which I have suggested can, in turn, be influenced by wider forces, such as Ofsted.

Such a mix and match approach to teaching also misunderstands the idea of a philosophy. If you have a philosophy, which is obviously helped by understanding its name, its history and its influential figures, then you are more likely to make choices and decisions that reflect it. I know that in my teaching I am increasingly making more congruent pedagogical decisions that reflect my philosophy. Take the example of teaching my students to analyse texts. I used to encourage students to make their own inferences far too early on before they had acquired sufficient knowledge and understanding. I have now adapted my sequencing and choice of activity to reflect my belief that a certain amount of foundational knowledge is needed before meaningful insight can occur.

Perhaps, though, the most damaging consequence of shutting down the debate between progressive and traditional philosophies is that it runs the risk of missing out on the insights that can emerge from holding two opposing ideas in tension. This, to me, is very much the point of Martin Robinson’s brilliant book Trivium. The creative insight and energy that springs from the conflict between two ideologies can help us towards new levels of understanding and improve the quality of all our teaching. This should help teachers to be make much more informed decisions in their classrooms and leaders much more informed decisions across their schools. As hard as it can be sometimes to adjust to change, as this rather good recent post attests, I would much rather that teachers acted from a position of knowledge and insight, rather than relying on the implicit values prescribed by others, whatever side of the divide they fall.

Ignorance is not necessariliy bliss.

* In many respects this post is a little too late. James Theobald has already expressed what I wanted to say, and as you would probably expect from him, he has done so in a typically stylish and entertaining manner. At the risk of producing a poor man’s imitation, I have decided to post anyway.