Michaela: colonising the curriculum?

If all I’d known about the Michaela Community School was its day-to-day routine, I’d have raised little more than an eyebrow. That’s in part because day-to-day life at Michaela looks remarkably like day-to-day life at the grammar school I attended half a century ago. What prompted me to raise more than an eyebrow is the new book from the Michaela Community School, The Power of Culture.

As far as the day-to-day is concerned it’s packed with positive practical ideas. I noted particularly;
-creating liberating pathways for students
-taking a long term view of conduct
-catching the students being good
-not expecting them to ape experts
-presenting knowledge in context
-mini introductions to practical, useful non-academic knowledge
-the outside speaker programme
-whole-class marking
-no targets
-no performance related pay
-all school staff (including admin & cleaners) being involved.

On a day-to-day level, Michaela’s methods are obviously effective. Students learn, raise their expectations, improve their behaviour and get good exam results. It’s when it came to the school’s ethos (beliefs and values) that I felt the framework began to wobble.

The Michaela ethos might reflect the pre-existing beliefs of staff, but the school also appears to have resorted to a bit of post-hoc justification for its practices. Rather than practice emerging from a coherent, thought-through set of beliefs and values, I get the impression teachers have;
1. seen ineffective or counterproductive practices or values in other schools (students learn little, have low aspirations, and their behaviour is out of control),
2. reacted against those practices,
3. tried alternatives,
4. and only then identified beliefs and values that justify the alternatives.

The lack of coherence and thinking-through is important, because beliefs and values are taught explicitly at Michaela and can have a significant impact on students’ lives. In this post I focus on a key feature of the Michaela ethos highlighted in The Power of Culture – British history and culture.

British culture
Michaela has reacted strongly against calls to ‘decolonise’ the curriculum, as Katie Ashford explains in ‘Schools should teach Dead White Men’. Although her initial description of the aims of ‘decolonisation’ advocates is pretty accurate, I felt Katie goes on to caricature their position by citing extreme views. Some advocates of ‘decolonising’ might think ‘our society is entirely racist’ (p.59), be calling for the removal of dead white men from the curriculum (p.63), or want only black writers to be included (p.67), but most don’t. What they’re concerned about is the implicit assumptions underpinning the curriculum that can push our thinking in a particular direction without us being aware of it. They’re calling for a restructuring of the curriculum that views its content from an inclusive, egalitarian standpoint, rather than from the point of view of dominant cultures.

Michaela’s view in contrast, is that each of their students is British, lives in England, and in order to participate fully in British/English life, needs to know about British/English history and culture, a point Michael Taylor expands on in ‘National Identity’.

What is Britishness?
Michael understands why schools celebrate cultural diversity. But he claims that is ‘often associated with the rejection of Britishness and in particular, Englishness’. Despite this, people ‘feel British and people feel English’ (p.74). For Michaela, a sense of British and English identity is engendered by the Union flag, the Queen’s birthday, St George’s Day, ‘important national songs’ (National Anthem, Jerusalem, I Vow to Thee my Country), Westminster Abbey, the Palace of Westminster, St Paul’s Cathedral and WW1 battlefields. I wouldn’t question the importance of students knowing about those symbols, but St George’s Day is the only one that pre-dates the colonial era – which lends weight to the decolonisers’ point.

Now, I feel as British and English as the next British/English person, but what makes me feel British/English is older, more egalitarian symbols; leaders being ‘first among equals’ (a principle espoused by, amongst others, Celts and Anglo Saxons), observations such as “when Adam delved and Eve span, who was then the gentleman?” (John Ball, Peasants’ Revolt, 1381) and Civil War battlefields. For me, the symbols embraced by Michaela represent a social hierarchy that has a longstanding tendency to take away people’s stuff and give it to its posh mates, something that all Michaela students need to be aware of. They need to be aware of it because Michaela points its students in the direction of the upper echelons of that social hierarchy (Russell Group and Ivy League universities, civil service internships etc).

Clearly, questions need to be asked about why those from ethnic minorities and/or state schools are under-represented in high status professions. And students from ethnic minorities and/or state schools should indeed be supported to aim high academically. But questions also need to be asked about why certain professions have high status, and why other equally important ones don’t. As a community, we don’t need only high flyers. We need people who can do the nuts-and-bolts hands-on work that keeps the country going. Many of those jobs don’t have much social cachet, but are interesting, demanding, well-paid and essential. I’m not talking about menial work here; I’m asking why farming, engineering, manufacturing, retail management, local government or nursing, don’t have the same allure for Michaela as say, wealthy bankers (p.64) or the civil service (p.115).

Unity and diversity
Michaela, with some justification, wants to shift the focus from our differences to what we have in common, from the individual to the community. But in doing so it overlooks an important principle. One of the functions of a democracy is to safeguard the diversity of individuals; to protect our liberty to live as we think fit, free from arbitrary constraint (see previous post). Human diversity isn’t an optional extra; it’s vital for our standard of living and quality of life. Communities simply wouldn’t be able to adapt or develop if we were all the same.

And although people in Britain do have much in common, we are also inherently very diverse, a point that Michael glosses over. For example, he says “language, law and custom are all concrete realities that link people from Caithness to Cornwall” (p.79). But in Cornwall you might encounter a campaigner for Cornish independence whose child attends a Cornish-speaking nursery. In Caithness you’d be quite likely to bump into an ardent Scottish nationalist, speaking Gaelic, living under Scottish law, and practising customs unique to Scotland. There are historical reasons for that, which Michael as a history teacher must be aware of, but doesn’t mention. (His chapter on teaching history is well worth reading, incidentally).

One thing most cultures throughout human history have in common, is that those with few resources have been exploited by those with more. And that doesn’t only entail some nations exploiting other nations; many have exploited others in their own community. It’s a feature shared by all cultures, and something they all end up trying to prevent. Getting students from ethnic minority and state school backgrounds into high status professions is one way to tackle inequality, but won’t effect much change if those same students are taught to revere symbols of the very system that has exploited in the past – and is still exploiting.

Michaela doesn’t seem to understand the problematic aspects of the political and social hierarchy. It’s as if the school has been so busy reacting against the prevailing focus in education on diversity, context and structural issues, it’s come up with an alternative model that ignores those factors completely.

Colonising the curriculum
There’s a good argument for students focusing on the history and literature of the country they live in, and as Katie points out there isn’t time to teach about all cultures in depth (p.70). But students don’t need to learn everything in depth. What they do need is an overview of world history and culture – from a world, rather than a British perspective.

But Michaela’s wider perspective isn’t a world one, it’s a Western/European one (pp. 53, 69, 71, 172). It’s as if agriculture, city states, administration, industry, trade, and arts and crafts didn’t exist prior to the ancient Greeks. I felt the Western/European perspective is epitomised in two sentences children are expected to learn. One is;

Shakespeare is widely recognised as the greatest writer of all time, and was a great dramatist. (p. 379)

Shakespeare is certainly considered by many to be the greatest writer of all time, but the word ‘recognised’ implies his status is a matter of fact, rather than a matter of opinion. Some ancient Greeks could be contenders for the title, especially if all their manuscripts were still in existence. And who knows what great dramatists preceded them?

The other sentence is the answer to the second of two questions:

What word means ‘the belief that there is one God’?
How were the Israelites different from the Canaanites? (p.197)

My childhood was steeped in Bible stories and my immediate answer to the second question was “the Canaanites lived in the land of Canaan; the Israelites invaded it”. But the answer students are expected to give is “the Israelites differ from the Canaanites because, whereas the Israelites were monotheistic, the Canaanites were polytheistic”. That’s certainly a difference, but it probably wouldn’t have been the one foremost in the minds of the Canaanites at the time – which again reinforces the decolonisers’ argument.

It’s possible Michaela staff are presenting students with a Western/European/British/English history and culture and Judeo-Christian beliefs from a critical perspective, but I didn’t spot any evidence of that. Instead, teachers appear to accept the current social hierarchy as a given – uncritically. And the criterion for ‘success’ (beyond academic achievement) is attaining high social status rather than leading a fulfilling and useful life. That’s ironic because the criterion for ‘success’ in the street culture familiar to many of Michaela’s students, is also high social status. I’m not convinced that the principles of loyalty to the nation and giving something back (p.78) will eradicate the inequities inherent in British culture.

Michaela culture – a Swiss cheese model?

The Michaela Community School was founded in 2014 by Katharine Birbalsingh (as Headteacher) and Suella Braverman (currently Attorney General). The school’s ‘no excuses’ approach to education generated much controversy, but their first GCSE results outperformed the national average and their Progress 8 score ranked them fifth nationally.

In 2016 the school published The Battle Hymn of the Tiger Teachers, a summary of the Michaela ethos, with contributions from its staff. I found it perturbing and blogged about it here . But those were early days. The school recently published Michaela: The Power of Culture, which I hoped would offer more insights into its success. I got as far as Jonathan Porter (deputy head) explaining the rationale for the school’s culture, in ‘Michaela – A School of Freedom’. I’ve had to take a break. Here’s why…

Liberty
Jonathan opens by claiming that we have a ‘romantic instinct’ that yearns for “emancipation rather than prescription”, for “a loosening rather than a tightening of the fence” (p.39). He says the romantic instinct has its origins, not in “ancient theory – which understood true freedom to mean virtuous self-government”, but in John Locke’s 17th century proposition that human beings in their natural state are ‘ungoverned and unconstrained’ (p.40). Jean-Jacques Rousseau largely concurred with Locke, and according to Jonathan, Rousseau’s views on education set out in Emile, or On Education (1762) have had a profound and detrimental influence on education in Britain.

Isaiah Berlin revisited Locke’s ideas in the 1950s. Berlin posited two types of liberty: Negative liberty that seeks to minimise the obstacles to people doing what they want to do; and positive liberty, the freedom to self-determine, which might require some input from the state. Berlin was wary of positive liberty due to the potential for state control. But Jonathan agrees with Charles Taylor that “…we cannot erase the view of positive freedom entirely, not least because our ability to exercise any freedom we might have hinges on certain ends” (p.45).

Michaela adopts a ‘no excuses’ principle for behaviour management and Jonathan sees this as grounded in the ‘ancient theory’ of virtuous self-government. His reasoning appears to be that children often make poor choices about how to use their liberty (he goes into detail about the temptations of social media), and that the ‘ancient theory’ had stood the test of time until Locke came along. Many of Jonathan’s claims stand up to scrutiny – but some don’t. Also, he tells only half the story – and the other half is important.

Virtuous self-government
As I understand it, the ‘ancient theory’ of virtuous self-government recognised that people (individually and collectively) were generally unhappy about external control, hence the ‘self-government’ bit. But self-government alone didn’t guarantee true liberty – that was possible only for those not enslaved to their passions, a thread running through the liberty discourse. That meant virtue was essential for individuals and communities to enjoy true freedom.

Something Jonathan overlooks is that many (at least from Judea to Greece) who subscribed to the ‘ancient theory’ also believed that human beings had fallen from a prior state of grace. The human task was to remedy that fall via sacrifice, rituals, good works etc. Deities and their earthly representatives (prophets, priests, kings et al.) were usually involved. Promoting the idea that human moral status is inherently flawed, put the deities’ earthly representatives in positions of considerable power. But power structures don’t feature in Jonathan’s analysis.

Locke and Rousseau
Locke (and Rousseau) challenged the idea that we’re fundamentally sinful by nature and have to spend our lives making up for it. Instead, they proposed that whatever our moral status, we’re entitled to live our lives as we think fit, not as prescribed by social or religious institutions. Of course if we’re interacting with other people, our right to exercise our natural liberty is likely to conflict with someone else’s right to do the same, so we need some form of government to adjudicate, and some rules we all agree to comply with, to ensure a peaceful co-existence. This is the basis of Locke’s take on social contract theory, to which Rousseau also subscribed. Jonathan refers to social contract theory (p.40) but goes on, I felt, to caricature Locke’s liberty as Milton’s ‘licence’. Milton was right that for some “licence they mean when they cry liberty”, but that wasn’t what Locke and Rousseau meant. What they objected to wasn’t constraint per se, but arbitrary constraint – another point Jonathan refers to (p.40) but then bypasses.

Both Locke and Rousseau had direct experience of the doctrine of original sin being used to justify arbitrary constraint.The English civil war had begun shortly before Locke’s tenth birthday and his father served in the Parliamentary army. John was a bright lad and would have been well aware of what his father was fighting for. Rousseau had grown up in Calvinist Geneva but spent most of his adult life Catholic France, so had seen the doctrine of original sin from two very different theological perspectives. Locke’s and Rousseau’s ideas about liberty were responses to major issues of their day, and were popular because the ancient theory of virtuous self-government, and more importantly its implementation, were quite evidently no longer fit for purpose.

Virtue and power
Virtuous self-government is an appealing idea, but even by the 5th century BCE it had become clear it was feasible only in relatively small, completely independent communities. By then, the population of Athens had grown too large for direct participation in decision-making. Thucydides recounts discussions about whether decisions should be made by only a proportion of the population, or by representatives. And recounts the disagreements over who was ‘virtuous’.

By the 17th century CE, virtuous self-government had been found by many to be a necessary but insufficient foundation for society. You don’t need to believe in a deity to believe in virtue, but if virtuous self-government is the model a society has adopted, somebody ends up deciding what’s virtuous and what’s not. And that somebody is usually whoever has social or political power. After all, ‘virtue’ has been used to justify despotism, genocide, murder, torture and slavery – none of which feels particularly virtuous if you’re on the receiving end. The early Athenians argued that nature itself showed the strong should rule the weak, but unsurprisingly many of the tribes they tried to rule objected, on the grounds that they too wanted to govern themselves.

Of course by definition children don’t have sufficient experience or knowledge to make fully informed life choices. Locke considered the mind a tabula rasa; for him, it was important to ensure children’s early experiences were positive. Rousseau in contrast, had been a student in the school of hard knocks and felt it was important for children to find out about reality for themselves. I think Michaela is right that children need guidance and support from adults, to be taught effective life strategies, and to learn self-control in order to best exercise their liberty. But Jonathan doesn’t ask who decides what’s virtuous, or what the ends of education are – key issues for Locke and Rousseau.

Arbitrary constraints
Jonathan mentions arbitrary constraints, but sees them as political constraints (p.46) rather than social ones. There’s an example in his discussion of character (p.49). He says; “If pupils at Michaela are just one minute late to school, they will receive a 30-minute detention at the end of the day. We do make exceptions, although these really are exceptions. Most days a handful of detentions will be given to pupils who slept through their alarms, didn’t pack their bags the night before, or left home late but didn’t run to catch the bus… Although we are forgiving, a future employer may not be”.

I understand why pupils should be expected to arrive at school on time – it’s inconvenient for everybody if they don’t. But one minute late? And although the school might make allowances for exceptional circumstances, it isn’t forgiving – pupils are punished for transgressions.

The justification for the no excuses approach to tardiness is that a future employer might expect down-to-the-minute punctuality. It’s true that some industries (e.g. transport, manufacturing) do operate at that level of punctuality – but in those industries lateness has direct, real-life, non-arbitrary consequences. It’s also true that many employers require employees to clock in and clock out, but they usually use flexitime, which means arriving a minute later means leaving a minute later to compensate. And many employers, particularly in the type of employment Michaela encourages its students to aspire to, don’t monitor minutes or even hours, as long as the work gets done. So what is the ‘one minute late’ rule really about? There’s a fine line between discipline and control. It was a line Locke and Rousseau were aware of but it’s not clear where Michaela’s line is.

It looks to me as if Michaela has chosen a ‘no excuses’ approach to school culture because it has certain administrative advantages, then justified that choice by appealing to authorities that support their position, such as the virtuous self-government model, Aristotle, Graeco-Roman tradition, 1000 years of history, and Edmund Burke (p.46ff). Rather than use theory from opposing authorities (e.g. Locke, Rousseau, Berlin) to test the school’s model for possible flaws, it caricatures opposing theories as responsible for licence, undermining the British education system, and allowing children unrestricted access to social media.

Virtuous self-government is an appealing idea, but survived for 1000 years of history largely because it was shored up by religious and secular power hierarchies with those at the top deciding what was virtuous and how far self-government extended – as  Michaela is doing. But Michaela’s students will take their place in an adult world that relies on people negotiating outcomes; at the state level, in the workplace and between individuals. Will a ‘no excuses’ culture prepare them effectively for that?

Virtuous self-government and a ‘no excuses’ culture work for some people and some institutions, but the ancient Athenians, contemporaries of Locke, Rousseau, and Berlin, and state education systems from Prussia to the UK, have found that they don’t work for everybody –  which is largely why those systems changed.  Virtuous self-government and a ‘no excuses’ culture have face value appeal, but as systems of governance they’re as full of holes as a Swiss cheese.

Dominic Cummings on education

Dominic Cummings has become a highly influential figure. He steered the UK’s education system towards a ‘knowledge curriculum’, persuaded many who voted in the 2016 referendum that they wanted the UK to leave the EU, and is now well on the way to ensuring that Brexit gets done – whatever that entails.

In 2013 Cummings published online an essay entitled Some Thoughts on Education and Political Priorities. His thoughts extend to nearly 250 pages.  I had a couple of goes at reading them at the time, but was fazed by the plethora of references to mathematicians and physicists. My rusty A level maths and even more rusty O level physics weren’t quite up to checking them out.  Following Cummings’ spectacular return to public life, I scrolled past them and found myself in more familiar territory.  This is the first of three posts, on Cummings’ views of education, intelligence, and expertise.

An Odyssean Education

Cummings isn’t happy with education systems. He complains that students aren’t taught about some fundamentally important ideas, so political leaders lack them too, which explains poor political decisions. He believes the ideas could go a long way to resolving the global crises facing us, so it’s imperative they’re taught in schools and universities. He’s particularly interested in the education of people with a high IQ.

Cummings refers to Neitzsche’s distinction between ‘Apollonian’ thinkers using logical analysis and ‘Dionysians’ who use intuition and synthesis. The physicist Murray Gell-Man suggested a third group – ‘Odysseans’ – who “combine the two predelictions”, look for connections between ideas, and take a “crude look at the whole” (p.5). As Cummings puts it “An Odyssean curriculum would give students and politicians some mathematical foundations and a map to navigate such subjects without requiring a deep specialist understanding of each element” (p.7).  He’s right about the map. Human knowledge has increased exponentially over the past century, so in-depth specialisms have become the order of the day. The best anyone could currently achieve is a ‘crude look at the whole’ but that crude look is essential if we are to understand the challenges confronting us.

Cummings structures his Odyssean curriculum as a “schema of seven big areas” (p.7) sketched out on page 2:

  1. Maths and complexity
  2. Energy and space
  3. Physics and computation
  4. Biological engineering
  5. Mind and machine
  6. The scientific method, education, training and decisions
  7. Political economy, philosophy, and avoiding catastrophes.

The essay includes 15 Endnotes on specific topics, and a reading list. In this post, I focus on education, addressed in Chapter 6.

Uniformity vs diversity

Cummings is critical of an education policy that aims for increased uniformity of achievement, based on the assumption that all students have the same potential, and would reach it if aspirations were raised and equal opportunities provided. Cummings’ model in contrast, assumes students don’t have the same potential because differences in ability are largely genetic in origin. He thinks more effective teaching will raise attainment levels for all, but will also widen the attainment gap (pp.74, 83). In my view, both models are wrong due to flaws in their implicit starting assumptions. Here’s why:

Human beings have been ‘successful’ in the evolutionary sense, in part because speech enables us to communicate complex information to each other. To survive and maintain good quality of life, everyone doesn’t need to know everything, but we each need access to the expertise of farmers, plumbers, electricians, doctors, lawyers, poets and dancers to name but few.

What enables populations to adapt to changing environments is genetic diversity. And genetic diversity produces people with the diverse abilities, aptitudes and interests that enable communities to adapt to changing circumstances. Communities thrive, not because of their uniformity, but because of their diversity. A good general education is important for everyone because we each need to know how the world works, but the last thing we need is for everyone to be the same.

The diversity does indeed mean that improving teaching would result in larger gaps in attainment – but only if you measure attainment on a linear scale such as exam results or IQ. Cummings is right that we desperately need people with high IQs who can do the maths required to model complex systems, and politicians who understand what’s being modelled. But our society couldn’t function if it consisted entirely of people who were a whiz at complex equations and/or political decision-making; we need people with a wide range of abilities, aptitudes and interests to make life sustainable and worth living.

Uniformity appeals to policy-makers because one-size-fits-all policies look like they’ll save money.  A diversity narrative is often used to make uniformity more palatable. But diversity in communities doesn’t only make life more interesting and colourful, it’s essential for our biological and economic survival and well being.

Aptitude

Genetic diversity provides communities with the wide range of abilities, aptitudes and interests they need to thrive. Ironically, the suitability of an education to aptitude (what someone is good at) has been embedded in English education law since at least 1944, but has received scant attention since the advent of the national curriculum and standardised testing.

Paying attention to aptitude doesn’t mean every student needs a personalised education programme, nor that schools should undertake vocational training. But developing the inherent qualitative variation in aptitude would mean the ensuing quantitative variation in exam scores became less important. Gaps in academic achievement matter only to societies that accord a disproportionately high status to professions requiring academic skills.

For example, doctors and lawyers are generally well paid and have high social status. The pay and social status of train drivers and electricians is generally lower. But train drivers and electricians are no less essential to a functioning community. Cummings lauds scientists, and is pretty dismissive of doctors and lawyers, but the people who maintain the complex infrastructure of the developed world don’t feature at all in his model of education, other than often being on the wrong side of the IQ bell curve.

Cummings’ proposals

To fix the problems with the education system, Cummings proposes (pp.69-83):

  1. Largely eliminate failure with the basics in primary schools
  2. Largely eliminate failure with the basics in secondary schools
  3. A scientific approach to teaching practice
  4. Maths for most 16-18
  5. Specialist schools from which all schools (and Universities) can learn
  6. Web-based curricula, MOOCs, and HE/FE
  7. Computer Science and 3D printers: bits and atoms, learning and making
  8. Teacher hiring, firing and training
  9. Prizes
  10. Simplify the appallingly complicated funding system, make data transparent and give parents a real school choice.

Most of his criticisms of the education system are valid ones, but criticism is the easy bit – it’s more challenging to come up with alternatives. Cummings generates ideas like they’re going out of fashion, but almost invariably overlooks context; notably what caused the problems, and the implications of his ideas being implemented. Here are some examples:

Maths     For Cummings ‘the basics’ are English, Maths and Science, with Maths the sine qua non because it provides the ‘language of nature’ (p.63). His proposal that 16-18 year-olds continue to study ‘some sort of Maths course’ (p.75) was implemented in 2015 in the form of students being required to re-sit Maths and English GCSEs if they got lower than a C grade. As far as I’m aware the scheme wasn’t piloted, placed a huge burden on an FE sector already pared to the bone, and many students found their career plans stalled due to an arbitrary and unnecessary requirement.

Reading     The UK’s achievement in reading is contrasted with that of Finland (p.69), but overlooks the fact that Finnish orthography is highly transparent (almost 1-1 correspondence between graphemes and phonemes) whereas English orthography is highly opaque.

Specialist schools     Cummings has high hopes for specialist schools (pp.75-77) but doesn’t mention their introduction in the 1988 Education Reform Act, or that under New Labour most state secondaries became specialist schools. Evaluations showed the consequent small improvement in exam results was as likely due to the additional funding, rather than specialist status as such. There doesn’t appear to have been a subsequent surge in superb scientists or brilliant politicians.

Teacher hiring, firing, and training     For Cummings “real talent is rare, mediocrity ubiquitous” (p.81). He would recruit academic high flyers, pay them well, get “roughly averagely talented teachers” to use Direct Instruction scripts and allow head teachers to sack the ones who still didn’t make the grade. He doesn’t mention working conditions or why teacher retention is so low.

Cummings also claims “managing schools is much easier than being a brilliant maths teacher and requires only the import of competent (not brilliant) professional managers from outside the education world” (p.83).  The transferable management skills hypothesis has been widely tested since the 1980s and been found seriously wanting.

Lectures     We’re told “students remember little from traditional lectures” (p.72). That might because traditionally, lectures formed only the framework for the students’ learning. Traditionally, students were expected to do further reading. And the ‘proven’ Oxbridge tutorial system is not as Cummings claims, limited to Oxford and Cambridge (p.78). It’s been in use in every university I’ve been involved with from the 1970s to the present. Maybe I’ve just been lucky.

Funding     The education funding system certainly needs rationalising, but costs vary across geographical areas, so who decides what a “flat per pupil amount” with “as few tweaks as possible” (p.81) means?

Parent choice     The other things described above … could be done even if one disagrees with the idea of a decentralised system driven by parent choice and prefers the old hierarchical system run by MPs, Unions, and civil servants” (p.83). Cummings appears completely unaware that the ‘old hierarchical’ system was decentralized and run by local authorities, school governors (including parents) and head teachers. And would probably have stayed that way if it hadn’t been deliberately centralized relatively recently by the Thatcher and subsequent governments.

Data transparency     Few would want to “define success according to flawed league table systems based on flawed GCSEs” but if “private schools have defined success according to getting pupils into elite universities” (p.82) where does that leave the bulk of the population? We’re not all going to get into elite universities – if we did, they wouldn’t, by definition, be elite.

Scientific evidence     Cummings is right that an evidence-based approach to education is vital, but has a touching faith in randomized controlled trials (RCTs) (p.64). The medical community’s objections to RCTs was not, as Cummings claims, because their expertise would be challenged by data, but because individual patients don’t always share the features of a large population. The same is true for school pupils.

Cummings follows Feynman in accusing educational researchers of ‘Cargo Cult’ science – mimicking the surface features of scientific research but not applying its deep structure (p.70). Regrettably, deep structure is noticeable by its absence from the hotch-potch of findings about cognition, lectures, tutorials, testing, genetics and IQ that he proposes as an alternative.

Sub-system optimization

Cummings repeatedly does what systems theorists call subsystem optimization at the expense of system optimization. A bit of a tongue twister, but it’s a simple and common phenomenon. The components of systems, by definition, are linked to each other, so tweaking one part is likely to result in changes to another. And improving part of the system can sometimes have the effect of making things worse overall. If the components of a system are loosely coupled (weakly connected), the impact might be negligible. If they’re tightly coupled (strongly connected) the impact can be substantial.

Cummings should know this because he devotes an entire section to the features of complex systems (pp.17-21), but appears have filed complex systems under ‘mathematical modelling’ rather than ‘public policy’ in his mental directory. He doesn’t apply systems theory to his own proposals, even though he recognizes many poor political decisions are made because politicians don’t understand how complex systems work.  A similar criticism can be applied to his thoughts on genetics and IQ, the subject of the next post.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

biologically primary and secondary knowledge?

David Geary is an evolutionary psychologist who developed the concept of biologically primary and biologically secondary knowledge, popular with some teachers. I’ve previously critiqued Geary’s ideas as he set them out in a chapter entitled Educating the Evolved Mind. One teacher responded by suggesting I read Geary’s The Origin of Mind because it explained his ideas in more detail. So I did.

Geary’s theory

If I’ve understood correctly, Geary’s argument goes like this:

The human body and brain have evolved over time in response to environmental pressures ranging from climate and diet through to social interaction. For Geary, social interaction is a key driver of evolved brain structures because social interactions can increase the resources available to individuals.

Environmental pressures have resulted in the evolution of brain ‘modules’ specialising in processing certain types of information, such as language or facial features. Information is processed by the modules rapidly, automatically and implicitly, resulting in heuristics (rules of thumb) characteristic of the ‘folk’ psychology, biology and physics that form the default patterns for the way we think. But we are also capable of flexible thought that overrides those default patterns. The flexibility is due to the highly plastic frontal areas of our brain responsible for intelligence. Geary refers to the thinking using the evolved modules as biologically primary, and that involving the plastic frontal areas as biologically secondary.

Chapters 2 & 3 of The Origin of Mind offer a clear, coherent account of Darwinian and hominid evolution respectively. They’d make a great resource for teachers. But when Geary moves on to cognition his model begins to get a little shaky – because it rests on several assumptions.

Theories about evolution of the brain are inevitably speculative because brain tissue decomposes and the fossil record is incomplete. Theories about brain function also involve speculation because our knowledge about how brains work is incomplete. There’s broad agreement on the general principles, but some hypotheses have generated what Geary calls ‘hot debate’. Despite acknowledging the debates, Geary’s model is built on assumptions about which side of the debate is correct. The assumptions involve the modularity of the brain, folk systems, intelligence, and motivation-to-control.

modularity

The general principle of modularity – that there are specific areas of the brain dedicated to processing specific types of information – is not in question. What is less clear is how specialised the modules are. For example, the fusiform face area (FFA) specialises in processing information about faces. But not just faces. It has also been shown to process information about cars, birds, butterflies, chess pieces, Digimon, and novel items called greebles. This raises the question of whether the FFA evolved to process information about faces as such (the Face Specific Hypothesis), or to process information about objects requiring fine-grained discrimination (the Expertise Hypothesis). Geary comes down on the Faces side of the debate on the grounds that the FFA does not “generally respond to other types of objects … that do not have facelike features, except in individuals with inherent sociocognitive deficits, such as autism” (p.141). Geary is entitled to his view, but that’s not the only hotly debated interpretation of the evidence.

folk systems

The general principle of folk systems – evolved forms of thought that result from information being processed rapidly, automatically and implicitly – is also not in question. Geary admits it’s unclear whether the research is “best understood in terms of inherent modular constraints, or as the result of general learning mechanisms” but comes down on the side of children’s thinking being the result of “inherent modular systems”.  I couldn’t find a reference to Eleanor Rosch’s prototype theory developed in the 1970s, which explains folk categories in terms of general learning mechanisms. And it’s regrettable that Rakison & Oakes’ 2008 review of research into how children form categories (that also lends weight to the general learning mechanisms hypothesis) wasn’t published until three years after The Origin of Mind. I don’t know whether either would have prompted Geary to amend his theory.

intelligence

In 1904 Charles Spearman published a review of attempts to measure intellectual ability. He concluded that the correlations between various specific abilities indicated “that there really exists a something that we may provisionally term “General Sensory Discrimination” and similarly a “General Intelligence”” (Spearman p.272).

It’s worth looking at what the specific abilities included. Spearman ranks (p. 276) in order of their correlation with ‘General Intelligence’, performance in: Classics, Common Sense, Pitch Discrimination, French, Cleverness, English, Mathematics, Pitch Discrimination among the uncultured, Music, Light Discrimination and Weight Discrimination.

So, measures of school performance turned out to be good predictors of… school performance. The measures of school performance correlated strongly with ‘General Intelligence’ – a construct derived from… the measures of school performance. This tautology wasn’t lost on other psychologists and Spearman’s conclusions received considerable criticism. As Edwin Boring pointed out in 1923, ‘intelligence’ is defined by the content of ‘intelligence’ tests. The correlations between specific abilities and the predictive power of intelligence tests are well-established. What’s contentious is whether they indicate the existence of an underlying ‘general mental ability’.

Geary says the idea that children’s intellectual functioning can be improved is ‘hotly debated’ (p.295). But he appears to look right past the even hotter debate that’s raged since Spearman’s work was published, about whether the construct general intellectual ability (g) actually represents ‘a something’ that ‘really exists’. Geary assumes it does, and also accepts Cattell’s later constructs crystallised and fluid intelligence without question.

Clearly some people are more ‘intelligent’ than others, so the idea of g initially appears valid. But ‘intelligence’ is, ironically, a folk construct. It’s a label we apply to a set of loosely defined characteristics – a useful shorthand descriptive term. It doesn’t follow that ‘intelligence’ is a biologically determined ‘something’ that ‘really exists’.

motivation-to-control

The motivation to control relationships, events and resources is a key part of Geary’s theory. He argues that motivation-to-control is an evolved disposition (inherent in the way people think) that manifests itself most clearly in the behaviour of despots – who seek to maximise their control of resources. Curiously, in referring to despots, Geary cites a paper by Herb Simon (Simon, 1990) on altruism (a notoriously knotty problem for evolution researchers). Geary describes an equally successful alternative strategy to despotism, not as altruism but as “adherence to [social] laws and mores”, even though the evidence suggests altruism is an evolved disposition, not merely a behaviour.

Altruism calls into question the control part of the motivation-to-control hypothesis. Many people have a tendency to behave in ways that increase their individual control of resources, but many tend to collaborate and co-operate instead – strategies that increase individual access to resources, despite reducing individual control over them. The altruism debate is another that’s been going on for decades, but you wouldn’t know that to read Geary.

Then there’s the motivation part. Like ‘intelligence’, ‘motivation’ is a label for a loosely defined bunch of factors that provide incentives for behaviour. ‘Motivation’ is a useful label. But again it doesn’t follow that ‘motivation’ is ‘a something’ that ‘really exists’. The biological mechanisms involved in the motivation to eat or drink are unlikely to be the same as those involved in wanting to marry the boss’s daughter or improve on our personal best for the half-marathon. The first two examples are likely to increase our access to resources; whether they increase our control over them will depend on the circumstances. Geary doesn’t explain the biological mechanism involved.

biologically primary and secondary knowledge

In The Origin of Mind, Geary touches on the idea of biologically primary and secondary competencies and abilities but doesn’t go into detail about their implications for education. Instead, he illustrates the principle by referring to the controlled problem solving used by Charles Darwin and Alfred Wallace in tackling the problem of how different species had arisen.

Geary says that problem solving of the type used by Darwin and Wallace requires the inhibition of ‘heuristic-based folk systems’ (p.197), and repeatedly proposes (pp.188, 311, 331, 332) that the prior knowledge of scientific pioneers such as Linnaeus, Darwin and Wallace “arose from evolved folk biological systems…as elaborated by associated academic learning” (p.188). He cites as evidence the assumptions resulting from religious belief made by anatomist and palaeontologist Richard Owen (p.187), and Wallace’s reference to an ‘Overruling Intelligence’ being behind natural selection (p.83). But this proposal is problematic, for three reasons:

The first problem is that some ‘evolved’ folk knowledge is explicit, not implicit. Belief in a deity is undoubtedly folk knowledge; societies all over the world have come up with variations on the concept. But the folk knowledge about religious beliefs is usually culturally transmitted to children, rather than generated by them spontaneously.

Another difficulty is that thinkers such as Darwin, Linnaeus, Owen and Wallace had a tendency to be born into scholarly families, so their starting point, even as young children, would not have been merely ‘folk biological systems’. So each of them had the advantage of previous researchers having already reduced their problem- space.

A third challenge is that heuristics aren’t exclusively ‘biologically primary’; they can be learned, as Geary points out, via ‘biologically secondary knowledge’ (p.185).

So if biologically primary knowledge sometimes involves explicit instruction, and biologically secondary knowledge can result in the development of fast, automatic, implicit heuristics, how can we tell which type of knowledge is which?

use of evidence

Geary accepts contentious constructs such as motivation, intelligence and personality (p.319) without question. And he appears to have a rather unique take on concepts such as bounded rationality (p.172), satisficing (p.173) and schemata (p.186).

In addition, although Geary’s evidence is not always contentious, sometimes his conclusions are tenuous. For example, he predicts that if social competition were a driving force during evolution, “a burning desire to master algebra or Newtonian physics will not be universal or even common. Surveys of the attitudes and preferences of American schoolchildren support this prediction and indicate that they value achievement in sports … much more than achievement in any academic area” (pp.334-5), citing a 1993 paper by Eccles et al. The surveys were two studies, the American schoolchildren 865 elementary school students, the attitudes and preferences were competence beliefs and task values, and the academic areas were math, reading and music. Responses show some statistically significant differences. Geary appears to generalise the results, overegg the evidential pudding somewhat, and to completely look past the possibility that there might be culturally transmitted factors involved.

conclusion

I find Geary’s model perplexing. Most of the key links in it – brain evolution, brain modularity, the heuristics and biases that result in ‘folk’ thinking, motivation and intelligence – involve highly contentious hypotheses.  Geary mentions the ‘hot debates’ but doesn’t go into detail. He simply comes down on one side of the debate and builds his model on the assumption that that side is correct.

He appears to have developed an overarching model of cognition and learning and squeezed the evidence into it, rather than building the model according to the evidence. The problem with the second approach of course, is that if the evidence is inconclusive, you can’t develop an overarching model of cognition and learning without it being highly speculative.

What also perplexes me about Geary’s model is its purpose. Teachers have been aware of the difference between implicit and explicit learning (even if they didn’t call it that) for centuries. It’s useful for them to know about brain evolution and modularity and the heuristics and biases that result in ‘folk’ thinking etc. But teachers can usually spot whether children are learning something apparently effortlessly (implicitly) or whether they need step-by-step (explicit) instruction. That’s essentially why teachers exist. Why do they need yet another speculative educational model?

references

Eccles, J., Wigfield, A., Harold, R.D.,  & Blumenfeld, P. (1993). Age and gender differences in children’s self‐and task perceptions during elementary school, Child Development, 64, 830-847.

Gauthier, I., Tarr, M.J., Anderson, A.W., Skudlarski, P. & Gore, J.C.  (1999). Activation of the middle fusiform ‘face area’ increases with expertise in recognizing novel objects, Nature Neuroscience, 2, 568-573.

Rakison, D.H.  & Oakes L.M. (eds) (2008). Early Category and Concept Development.  Oxford University Press.

Simon, H.A. (1990). A mechanism for social selection and successful altruism. Science, 250, 1665-1668.

Spearman, C.  (1904).  ‘General Intelligence’ objectively determined and measured.  The American Journal of Psychology, 15, 201-292.

 

 

a philosophy conference for teachers

Yesterday was a bright, balmy autumn day. I spent it at Thinking about teaching: a philosophy conference for teachers at the University of Birmingham. Around 50 attendees, and the content Tweeted on #EdPhilBrum. And I met in person no fewer than five people I’ve previously met only on Twitter @PATSTONE55, @ded6ajd, @sputniksteve, @DSGhataura and @Rosalindphys.  In this post, a (very) brief summary of the presentations (missed the last one by Joris Vleighe) and my personal impressions.

Geert Biesta: Teachers, teaching and the beautiful risk of education

The language we use to describe education is important. English doesn’t have words to accurately denote what Biesta considers to be key purposes of education, but German does:

  • Ausbildung (‘qualification’) – cultivation, knowledge & skills
  • Bildung (‘socialisation’) – developing identity in relation to tradition
  • Erziehung (‘subjectivisation’) – grown-up engagement with the world.

These facets are distinct but overlap; focussing on purposes individually can result in:

  • obsession with qualifications
  • strong socialisation – conformity
  • freedom as license.

Education has an interruptive quality that allows the integration of its purposes. The risk of teaching is that the purposes might not be achieved because the student is an active subject, not a ‘pure object’.

Judith Suissa : ‘Seeing like a state?’ Anarchism, philosophy of education and the political imagination

Anarchist tools allow us to question fundamental assumptions about the State, often not questioned by those who do question particular State policies. State education per se is rarely questioned, for example.

Anarchism is often accused of utopianism, but utopianism has different meanings and can serve to ‘relativise the present’.

Andrew Davis:  The very idea of an ‘evidence based’ teaching method. Educational research and the practitioner

One model of ‘evidence based’ teaching is summarised as ‘it works’. But what is the ‘it’? Even a simple approach like ‘sitting in rows’ can involve many variables. ‘It works’ bypasses the need for professional judgement and overlooks distinction between instrumental and relational understanding (Skemp). Children should have relational cognitive maps; new knowledge needs a place.

Regulative rules apply to activities whose existence is independent of the rules e.g. driving on the left-hand side of the road.

Constituitive rules are rules on which the activity depends for its existence e.g the rules of chess. Many educational functions involved constitutive rules and collective intentions.

Joe Wolff:  Fake news and twisted values: political philosophy in the age of social media

Fake news and twisted values can emerge for different reasons.

  • innocent mistakes: out of context citations, misattributed authorship, different criteria in use e.g. life expectancy
  • propaganda: Trojan Horse speeches, manipulation of information
  • peer reviewed literature: errors, replication crisis Difficulties with access and readability

writing for philosophers

Philosophy isn’t my field, but lately I’ve been dabbling in it increasingly often. The main obstacle to accessibility hasn’t been the concepts, but the terminology. I’ve ploughed through a dense argument stopping sometimes several times a sentence to find out what the words refer to, only to discover eventually I’ve been reading about a familiar concept called something else in another domain, but explained in ways that address philosophers’ queries and objections.  I now call these texts writing for philosophers.  An example is Daniel Dennett’s Consciousness Explained. Struggled with the words only to realise I’d already read Antonio Damasio explaining similar ideas but writing for biologists.

Like @PATSTONE55 I was expecting this conference to consist of presentations for philosophers and that I’d struggle to keep up. But it wasn’t and we didn’t.  Instead there were very accessible presentations for teachers. And themes that, as Pat also found, were very familiar, or at least had been familiar some decades ago.  It felt like a rather glitchy time warp flipping between the 1970s and the present. In the present context, the themes felt distinctly subversive.  Three key themes emerged for me.

context is everything

Everything is related; education is a multi-purpose process, underpinned by political assumptions, it’s relational, and evaluating evidence isn’t straightforward. The disjointed educational policy ‘ideas’ that have dominated the education landscape for several decades are usually a failure waiting to happen. They waste huge amounts of time and money, have contributed to teacher shortages and have caused needless problems for students. In systems theory they’d be catchily termed sub-systems optimisation at the expense of systems optimization, often shortened to suboptimization. Urie Bronfenbrenner wasn’t mentioned yesterday, but he addressed the issue of the social ecology in the 70s in his ecological systems theory of child development.

implicit assumptions are difficult to detect

It’s easy to focus on one purpose of education and ignore others, easy to assume the status quo can’t be questioned, easy to what’s there and difficult to spot what’s missing, and all too easy to forget what things look like from a child’s perspective.

We all make implicit assumptions, but because they are implicit and assumptions, it’s fiendishly difficult for us to make our own assumptions explicit. Sometimes a fresh pair of eyes is enough, sometimes a colleague from another discipline can help, but sometimes we need a radical, unorthodox perspective like anarchism.

space and time are essential for reflection

Most people can learn facts (I use the term loosely) pretty quickly, but putting the facts in context might require developing or changing a schema and you can’t do that while you’re busy learning other facts. It’s no accident that thinkers from Aristotle to Darwin did their best thinking whilst walking. Neurons need downtime to make and strengthen connections. There’s a limit to how much time children (or adults) can spend actively ‘learning’. Too much time can be counterproductive.

Yesterday’s conference offered a superb space for reflection. Thought-provoking and challenging ideas, motivated and open-minded participants, an excellent venue and some of the best conference food ever – the gluten-free/vegetarian/vegan platters were amazing. Thanks to the Philosophy of Education Society of Great Britain for organising it.  Couldn’t have been more timely.

 

 

educating the evolved mind: education

The previous two posts have been about David Geary’s concepts of primary and secondary knowledge and abilities; evolved minds and intelligence.  This post is about how Geary applies his model to education in Educating the Evolved Mind.

There’s something of a mismatch between the cognitive and educational components of Geary’s model.  The cognitive component is a range of biologically determined functions that have evolved over several millennia.  The educational component is a culturally determined education system cobbled together in a somewhat piecemeal and haphazard fashion over the past century or so.

The education system Geary refers to is typical of the schooling systems in developed industrialised nations, and according to his model, focuses on providing students with biologically secondary knowledge and abilities. Geary points out that many students prefer to focus on biologically primary knowledge and abilities such as sports and hanging out with their mates (p.52).   He recognises they might not see the point of what they are expected to learn and might need its importance explained to them in terms of social value (p.56). He suggests ‘low achieving’ students especially might need explicit, teacher driven instruction (p.43).

You’d think, if cognitive functions have been biologically determined through thousands of years of evolution, that it would make sense to adapt the education system to the cognitive functions, rather then the other way round. But Geary doesn’t appear to question the structure of the current US education system at all; he accepts it as a given. I suggest that in the light of how human cognition works, it might be worth taking a step back and re-thinking the education system itself in the light of the following principles:

1.communities need access to expertise

Human beings have been ‘successful’, in evolutionary terms, mainly due to our use of language. Language means it isn’t necessary for each of us to learn everything for ourselves from scratch; we can pass on information to each other verbally. Reading and writing allow knowledge to be transmitted across time and space. The more knowledge we have as individuals and communities, the better our chances of survival and a decent quality of life.

But, although it’s desirable for everyone to be proficient reader and writer and to have an excellent grasp of collective human knowledge, that’s not necessary in order for each of us to have a decent quality of life. What each community needs is a critical mass of people with good knowledge and skills.

Also, human knowledge is now so vast that no one can be an expert on everything; what’s important is that everyone has access to the expertise they need, when and where they need it.  For centuries, communities have facilitated access to expertise by educating and training experts (from carpenters and builders to doctors and lawyers) who can then share their expertise with their communities.

2.education and training is not just for school

Prior to the development of mass education systems, most children’s and young people’s education and training would have been integrated into the communities in which they lived. They would understand where their new knowledge and skills fitted into the grand scheme of things and how it would benefit them, their families and others. But schools in mass education systems aren’t integrated into communities. The education system has become its own specialism. Children and young people are withdrawn from their community for many hours to be taught whatever knowledge and skills the education system thinks fit. The idea that good exam results will lead to good jobs is expected to provide sufficient motivation for students to work hard at mastering the school curriculum.  Geary recognises that it doesn’t.

For most of the millennia during which cognitive functions have been developing, children and young people have been actively involved in producing food or making goods, and their education and training was directly related to those tasks. Now it isn’t.  I’m not advocating a return to child labour; what I am advocating is ensuring that what children and young people learn in school is directly and explicitly related to life outside school.

Here’s an example: A highlight of the Chemistry O level course I took many years ago was a visit to the nearby Avon (make-up) factory. Not only did we each get a bag of free samples, but in the course of an afternoon the relevance of all that rote learning of industrial applications, all that dry information about emulsions, fat-soluble dyes, anti-fungal additives etc. suddenly came into sharp focus. In addition, the factory was a major local employer and the Avon distribution network was very familiar to us, so the whole end-to-end process made sense.

What’s commonly referred to as ‘academic’ education – fundamental knowledge about how the world works – is vital for our survival and wellbeing as a species. But knowledge about how the world works is also immensely practical. We need to get children and young people out, into the community, to see how their communities apply knowledge about how the world works, and why it’s important. The increasing emphasis in education in the developed world on paper-and-pencil tests, examination results and college attendance is moving the education system in the opposite direction, away from the practical importance of extensive, robust knowledge to our everyday lives.  And Geary appears to go along with that.

3.(not) evaluating the evidence

Broadly speaking, Geary’s model has obvious uses for teachers.   There’s considerable supporting evidence for a two-phase model of cognition ranging from Fodor’s specialised, stable/general, unstable distinction, to the System 1/System 2 model Daniel Kahnemann describes in Thinking, Fast and Slow. Whether the difference between Geary’s biologically primary and secondary knowledge and abilities is as clear-cut as he claims, is a different matter.

It’s also well established that in order to successfully acquire the knowledge usually taught in schools, children need the specific abilities that are measured by intelligence tests; that’s why the tests were invented in the first place. And there’s considerable supporting evidence for the reliability and predictive validity of intelligence tests. They clearly have useful applications in schools. But it doesn’t follow that what we call intelligence or g (never mind gF or gC) is anything other than a construct created by the intelligence test.

In addition, the fact that there is evidence that supports Geary’s claims doesn’t mean all his claims are true. There might also be considerable contradictory evidence; in the case of Geary’s two-phase model the evidence suggests the divide isn’t as clear-cut as he suggests, and the reification of intelligence has been widely critiqued. Geary mentions the existence of ‘vigorous debate’ but doesn’t go into details and doesn’t evaluate the evidence by actually weighing up the pros and cons.

Geary’s unquestioning acceptance of the concepts of modularity, intelligence and education systems in the developed world, increases the likelihood that teachers will follow suit and simply accept Geary’s model as a given. I’ve seen the concepts of biologically primary and secondary knowledge and abilities, crystallised intelligence (gC) and fluid intelligence (gF), and the idea that students with low gF who struggle with biologically secondary knowledge just need explicit direct instruction, all asserted as if they must be true – presumably because an academic has claimed they are and cited evidence in support.

This absence of evaluation of the evidence is especially disconcerting in anyone who emphasises the importance of teachers becoming research-savvy and developing evidence-based practice, or who posits models like Geary’s in opposition to the status quo. The absence of evaluation is also at odds with the oft cited requirement for students to acquire robust, extensive knowledge about a subject before they can understand, apply, analyse, evaluate or use it creatively. That requirement applies only to school children, it seems.

references

Fodor, J (1983).  The modularity of mind.  MIT Press.

Geary, D (2007).  Educating the evolved mind: Conceptual foundations for an evolutionary educational psychology, in Educating the evolved mind: Conceptual foundations for an evolutionary educational psychology, JS Carlson & JR Levin (Eds). Information Age Publishing.

Kahneman, D (2012).  Thinking, fast and slow.   Penguin.

magic beans, magic bullets and crypto-pathologies

In the previous post, I took issue with a TES article that opened with fidget-spinners and closed with describing dyslexia and ADHD as ‘crypto-pathologies’. Presumably as an analogy with cryptozoology – the study of animals that exist only in folklore. But dyslexia and ADHD are not the equivalent of bigfoot and unicorns.

To understand why, you have to unpack what’s involved in diagnosis.

diagnosis, diagnosis, diagnosis

Accurate diagnosis of health problems has always been a challenge because:

  • Some disorders* are difficult to diagnose. A broken femur, Bell’s palsy or measles are easier to figure out than hypothyroidism, inflammatory bowel disease or Alzheimer’s.
  • It’s often not clear what’s causing the disorder. Fortunately, you don’t have to know the immediate or root causes for successful treatment to be possible. Doctors have made the reasonable assumption that patients presenting with the same signs and symptoms§ are likely to have the same disorder.

Unfortunately, listing the signs and symptoms isn’t foolproof because;

  • some disorders produce different signs and symptoms in different patients
  • different disorders can have very similar signs and symptoms.

some of these disorders are not like the others…

To complicate the picture even further, some signs and symptoms are qualitatively different from the aches, pains, rashes or lumps that indicate disorders obviously located in the body;  they involve thoughts, feelings and behaviours instead. Traditionally, human beings have been assumed to consist of a physical body and non-physical parts such as mind and spirit, which is why disorders of thoughts, feelings and behaviours were originally – and still are – described as mental disorders.

Doctors have always been aware that mind can affect body and vice versa. They’ve also long known that brain damage and disease can affect thoughts, feelings, behaviours and physical health. In the early 19th century, mental disorders were usually identified by key symptoms. The problem was that the symptoms of different disorders often overlapped. A German psychiatrist, Emil Kraepelin, proposed instead classifying mental disorders according to syndromes, or patterns of co-occurring signs and symptoms. Kraepelin hoped this approach would pave the way for finding the biological causes of disorders. (In 1906, Alois Alzheimer found the plaques that caused the dementia named after him, while he was working in Kraepelin’s lab.)

Kraepelin’s approach laid the foundations for two widely used modern classification systems for mental disorders; the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, published by the American Psychiatric Association, currently in its 5th edition (DSM V), and the International Classification of Diseases Classification of Mental and Behavioural Disorders published by the World Health Organisation, currently in its 10th edition (ICD-10).

Kraepelin’s hopes for his classification system have yet to be realised. That’s mainly because the brain is a difficult organ to study. You can’t poke around in it without putting your patient at risk. It’s only in the last few decades that scanning techniques have enabled researchers to look more closely at the structure and function of the brain, and the scans require interpretation –  brain imaging is still in its infancy.

you say medical, I say experiential

Kraepelin’s assumptions about distinctive patterns of signs and symptoms, and about their biological origins, were reasonable ones. His ideas, however, were almost the polar opposite to those of his famous contemporary, Sigmund Freud, who located the root causes of mental disorders in childhood experience. The debate has raged ever since. The dispute is due to the plasticity of the brain.  Brains change in structure and function over time and several factors contribute to the changes;

  • genes – determine underlying structure and function
  • physical environment e.g. biochemistry, nutrients, toxins – affects structure and function
  • experience – the brain processes information, and information changes the brain’s physical structure and biochemical function.

On one side of the debate is the medical model; in essence, it assumes that the causes of mental disorders are primarily biological, often due to a ‘chemical imbalance’. There’s evidence to support this view; medication can improve a patient’s symptoms. The problem with the medical model is that it tends to assume;

  • a ‘norm’ for human thought, feelings and behaviours – disorders are seen as departures from that norm
  • the cause of mental disorders is biochemical and the chemical ‘imbalance’ is identified (or not) through trial-and-error – errors can be catastrophic for the patient.
  • the cause is located in the individual.

On the other side of the debate is what I’ll call the experiential model (often referred to as anti-psychiatry or critical psychiatry). In essence it assumes the causes of unwanted thoughts, feelings or behaviours are primarily experiential, often due to adverse experiences in childhood. The problem with that model is that it tends to assume;

  • the root causes are experiential and not biochemical
  • the causes are due to the individual’s response to adverse experiences
  • first-hand reports of early adverse experiences are always reliable, which they’re not.

labels

Kraepelin’s classification system wasn’t definitive – it couldn’t be, because no one knew what was causing the disorders. But it offered the best chance of identifying distinct mental health problems – and thence their causes and treatments. The disorders identified in Kraepelin’s system, the DSM and ICD, were – and most still are – merely labels given to clusters of co-occurring signs and symptoms.  People showing a particular cluster are likely to share the same underlying biological causes, but that doesn’t mean they do share the same underlying causes or that the origin of the disorder is biological.

This is especially true for signs and symptoms that could have many causes. There could be any number of reasons for someone hallucinating, withdrawing, feeling depressed or anxious – or having difficulty learning to read or maintain attention.  They might not have a medical ‘disorder’ as such. But you wouldn’t know that to read through the disorders listed in the DSM or ICD. They all look like bona fide, well-established medical conditions, not like labels for bunches of symptoms that sometimes co-occur and sometimes don’t, and that have a tendency to appear or disappear with each new edition of the classification system.  That brings us to the so-called ‘crypto-pathologies’ referred to in the TES article.

Originally, terms like dyslexia were convenient and legitimate shorthand labels for specific clusters of signs or symptoms. Dyslexia means difficulty with reading, as distinct from alexia which means not being able to read at all; both problems can result from stroke or brain damage. Similarly, autism was originally a shorthand term for the withdrawn state that was one of the signs of schizophrenia – itself a label.  Delusional parasitosis is also a descriptive label (the parasites being what’s delusional, not the itching).

reification

What’s happened over time is that many of these labels have become reified – they’ve transformed from mere labels into disorders widely perceived as having an existence independent of the label. Note that I’m not saying the signs and symptoms don’t exist. There are definitely children who struggle with reading regardless of how they’ve been taught; with social interaction regardless of how they’ve been brought up; and with maintaining focus regardless of their environment. What I am saying is that there might be different causes, or multiple causes, for clusters of very similar signs and symptoms.  Similar signs and symptoms don’t mean that everybody manifesting those signs and symptoms has the same underlying medical disorder –  or even that they have a medical disorder at all.

The reification of labels has caused havoc for decades with research. If you’ve got a bunch of children with different causes for their problems with reading, but you don’t know what the different causes are so you lump all the children together according to their DSM label; or another bunch with different causes for their problems with social interaction but lump them all together; or a third bunch with different causes for their problems maintaining focus, but you lump them all together; you are not likely to find common causes in each group for the signs and symptoms.  It’s this failure to find distinctive features at the group level that has been largely responsible for claims that dyslexia, autism or ADHD ‘don’t exist’, or that treatments that have evidently worked for some individuals must be spurious because they don’t work for other individuals or for the heterogeneous group as a whole.

crypto-pathologies

Oddly, in his TES article, Tom refers to autism as an ‘identifiable condition’ but to dyslexia and ADHD as ‘crypto-pathologies’ even though the diagnostic status of autism in the DSM and ICD is on a par with that of ADHD, and with ‘specific learning disorder with impairment in reading‘ with dyslexia recognised as an alternative term (DSM), or ‘dyslexia and alexia‘ (ICD).  Delusional parasitosis, despite having the same diagnostic status and a plausible biological mechanism for its existence, is dismissed as ‘a condition that never was’.

Tom is entitled to take a view on diagnosis, obviously. He’s right to point out that reading difficulties can be due to lack of robust instruction, and inattention can be due to the absence of clear routines. He’s right to dismiss faddish simplistic (but often costly) remedies. But the research is clear that children can have difficulties with reading due to auditory and/or visual processing impairments (search Google scholar for ‘dyslexia visual auditory’), that they can have difficulties maintaining attention due to low dopamine levels – exactly what Ritalin addresses (Iversen, 2006), or that they can experience intolerable itching that feels as if it’s caused by parasites.

But Tom doesn’t refer to the research, and despite provisos such as acknowledging that some children suffer from ‘real and grave difficulties’ he effectively dismisses some of those difficulties as crypto-pathologies and implies they can be fixed by robust teaching and clear routines  –  or that they are just imaginary.  There’s a real risk, if the research is by-passed, of ‘robust teaching’ and ‘clear routines’ becoming the magic bullets and magic beans he rightly despises.

Notes

*Disorder implies a departure from the norm.  At one time, it was assumed the norm for each species was an optimal set of characteristics.  Now, the norm is statistically derived, based on 95% of the population.

§ Technically, symptoms are indicators of a disorder experienced only by the patient and signs are detectable by others.  ‘Symptoms’ is often used to include both.

Reference

Iversen, L (2006).  Speed, Ecstasy, Ritalin: The science of amphetamines.  Oxford University Press.

white knights and imaginary dragons: Tom Bennett on fidget-spinners

I’ve crossed swords – or more accurately, keyboards – with Tom Bennett, the government’s behaviour guru tsar adviser, a few times, mainly about learning styles. And about Ken Robinson. Ironic really, because broadly speaking we’re in agreement. Ken Robinson’s ideas about education are woolly and often appear to be based on opinion rather than evidence, and there’s clear evidence that teachers who use learning styles, thinking hats and brain gym probably are wasting their time. Synthetic phonics helps children read and whole school behaviour policies are essential for an effective school and so on…

My beef with Tom has been his tendency to push his conclusions further than the evidence warrants. Ken Robinson is ‘the butcher given a ticker tape parade by the National Union of Pigs‘.  Learning Styles are ‘the ouija board of serious educational research‘.  What raised red flags for me this time is a recent TES article by Tom prompted by the latest school-toy fad ‘fidget-spinners’.

fidget-spinners

Tom begins with claims that fidget-spinners can help children concentrate. He says “I await the peer-reviewed papers from the University of Mickey Mouse confirming these claims“, assuming that he knows what the evidence will be before he’s even seen it.  He then introduces the idea that ‘such things’ as fidget-spinners might help children with an ‘identifiable condition such as autism or sensory difficulties’, and goes on to cite comments from several experts about fidget-spinners in particular and sensory toys in general. We’re told “…if children habitually fidget, the correct path is for the teacher to help the child to learn better behaviour habits, unless you’ve worked with the SENCO and the family to agree on their use. The alternative is to enable and deepen the unhelpful behaviour. Our job is to support children in becoming independent, not cripple them with their own ticks [sic]”.

If a child’s fidgeting is problematic, I completely agree that a teacher’s first course of action should be to help them stop fidgeting, although Tom offers no advice about how to do this. I’d also agree that the first course of action in helping a fidgety child shouldn’t be to give them a fidget-toy.

There’s no question that children who just can’t seem to sit still, keep their hands still, or who incessantly chew their sleeves, are seeking sensory stimulation, because that’s what those activities are – by definition. It doesn’t follow that allowing children to walk about, or use fidget or chew toys will ‘cripple them with their own ticks’. These behaviours are not tics, and usually extinguish spontaneously over time. If they’re causing disruption in the classroom, questions need to be asked about school expectations and the suitability of the school provision for the child, not about learning unspecified ‘better behaviour habits’.

mouthwash

Tom then devotes an entire paragraph to, bizarrely, Listerine. His thesis is that sales of antiseptic mouthwash soared due to an advertising campaign persuading Americans that halitosis was a serious social problem. His evidence is a blogpost by Sarah Zhang, a science journalist.  Sarah’s focus is advertising that essentially invented problems to be cured by mouthwash or soap. Neither she nor Tom mention the pre-existing obsession with cleanliness that arose from the discovery – prior to the discovery of antibiotics – that a primary cause of death and debility was bacterial infections that could be significantly reduced by the use of alcohol rubs, boiling and soap.

itchy and scratchy

The Listerine advertising campaign leads Tom to consider ‘fake or misunderstood illnesses’ that he describes as ‘charlatan’. His examples are delusional parasitosis (people believe their skin is itching because it’s infested with parasites) and Morgellon’s (belief that the itching is caused by fibres). Tom says “But there are no fibres or parasites. It’s an entirely psycho-somatic condition. Pseudo sufferers turn up at their doctors scratching like mad, some even cutting themselves to dig out the imaginary threads and crypto-bugs. Some doctors even wearily prescribe placebos and creams that will relieve the “symptoms”. A condition that never was, dealt with by a cure that won’t work. Spread as much by belief as anything else, like fairies.”

Here, Tom is pushing the evidence way beyond its limits. The fact that the bugs or fibres are imaginary doesn’t mean the itching is imaginary. The skin contains several different types of tactile receptor that send information to various parts of the brain. The tactile sensory system is complex so there are several points at which a ‘malfunction’ could occur.  The fact that busy GPs – who for obvious reasons don’t have the time or resources to examine the functioning of a patient’s neural pathways at molecular level – wearily prescribe a placebo, says as much about the transmission of medical knowledge in the healthcare system as it does about patients’ beliefs.

crypto-pathologies

Tom refers to delusional parasitosis and Morgellon’s as ‘crypto-pathologies’ – whatever that means – and then introduces us to some crypto-pathologies he claims are encountered in school; dyslexia and ADHD. As he points out dyslexia and ADHD are indeed labels for ‘a collection of observed symptoms’. He’s right that some children with difficulty reading might simply need good reading tuition, and those with attention problems might simply need a good relationship with their teacher and clear routines. As he points out “…our diagnostic protocol is often blunt. Because we’re unsure what it is we’re diagnosing, and it becomes an ontological problem“.  He then says “This matters when we pump children with drugs like Ritalin to stun them still.

Again, some of Tom’s claims are correct but others are not warranted by the evidence. In the UK, Ritalin is usually prescribed by a paediatrician or psychiatrist after an extensive assessment of the child, and its effects should be carefully monitored. It’s a stimulant that increases available levels of dopamine and norepinephrine and it often enhances the ability to concentrate. It isn’t ‘pumped into’ children and it doesn’t ‘stun them still’, In the UK at least, NICE guidelines indicate it should be used as a last resort. The fact that its use has doubled in the last decade is a worrying trend. This is more likely to be due to the crisis in child and adolescent mental health services, than to an assumption that all attention problems in children are caused by a supposed medical condition we call ADHD.

Tom, rightly, targets bullshit. He says it matters because “many children suffer from very real and very grave difficulties, and it behoves us as their academic and social guardians to offer support and remedy when we can”. Understandably he wants to drive his point home. But superficial analysis and use of hyperbole risk real and grave difficulties being marginalised at best and ridiculed at worst by teachers who don’t have the time/energy/inclination to check out the detail of what he claims.

Specialist education, health and care services for children have been in dire straits for many years and the situation isn’t getting any better. This means teachers are likely to have little information about the underlying causes of children’s difficulties in school. If teachers take what Tom says at face value, there’s a real risk that children with real difficulties, whether they need to move their fingers or chew in order to concentrate, experience unbearable itching, struggle to read because of auditory, visual or working memory impairments, or have levels of dopamine that prevent them from concentrating, will be seen by some as having ‘crypto-conditions’ that can be resolved by good teaching and clear routines. If they’re not resolved, then the condition must be ‘psycho-somatic’.  Using evidence to make some points, but ignoring it to make others means the slings and arrows Tom hurls at the snake-oil salesmen and white knights galloping to save us from imaginary dragons are quite likely to be used as ammunition against the very children he seeks to help.

a modern day trivium

In the two previous posts, I’ve criticised Martin Robinson’s argument that traditional and progressive education are mutually exclusive approaches characterised by single core values; subject centred and child centred, respectively.

Martin describes himself as an “educationalist with an interest in culture, politics, creativity, and the Liberal Arts (especially grammar, dialectic and rhetoric)”. Grammar, logic and rhetoric are the three strands of the mediaeval trivium and Martin’s educational consultancy and his blog are called Trivium 21C. In response to my comments, he suggested I produce a graphical representation of my understanding of the trivium.

liberal arts, trivium and quadrivium

In Ancient Greece and Rome, the liberal arts were the knowledge and skills it was considered essential for a free man to learn in order to participate in civic society. The liberal arts were revived during the reign of Charlemagne in the 8th century, in an effort to improve educational and cultural standards across Western Europe. Seven subjects were studied; grammar, logic and rhetoric made up the foundational trivium, and the quadrivium consisted of arithmetic, geometry, astronomy and music.

The trivium essentially trained students to think, and the quadrivium gave them the opportunity to apply their thinking to mathematical concepts (considered fundamental to all knowledge by the Greek philosophers). The seven liberal arts formed the foundation that enabled students to proceed to study theology, medicine or law.

Up until the early 19th century, the body of collective human knowledge was relatively small.   It was possible for a well-educated person to master all of it.   In order to acquire the knowledge, and to understand and apply it, you’d have to learn Latin and probably Greek, and also how scholars (who would have written in Latin) reasoned. The trivium made explicit the structure of language, how language was used to reason, and how to explain and persuade using language.

Since the early 19th century our collective knowledge has expanded enormously and much of that knowledge is recorded in English. There are good reasons why English-speaking students should learn the structure of their native language, how to reason in it, and how to use it to explain and persuade. But those skills wouldn’t be much use without the knowledge to apply them to.

I can see how those principles could be applied to our current body of knowledge, and that’s what I’ve mapped out below.Slide1

Grammar would make explicit the structure of the knowledge (including the structure of language). Logic would make reasoning explicit – and common errors and biases in thinking. (Martin replaces logic with dialectic, a process by which different parties seek to arrive at the truth through reasoned discussion with each other.) Rhetoric would make explicit the representation of knowledge, including how people conceptualise it. Incidentally, the body of knowledge has a fuzzy boundary because although much of it is reliable, some is still uncertain.

modern liberal arts and cultural literacy

Many modern colleges and universities offer liberal arts courses, although what’s entailed varies widely. Whatever the content, the focus of liberal arts is on preparing the student for participation in civic society, as distinct from professional, vocational or technical training.

So… I can see the point of the trivium in its original context. And how the principles of the trivium could be applied to the body of knowledge available in the 21st century. Those principles would provide a practical way of ensuring students had a thorough understanding of the knowledge they were applied to.

But… I do have some concerns about using the trivium to do that. The emphasis of the trivium and of liberal arts education, is on language. Language is the primary vehicle for ideas, so there are very good reasons for students mastering language and its uses. And the purpose of a liberal arts education is to prepare students for life, rather than just for work. There are good reasons for that too; human beings are obviously much more than economic units.

However, language and the ideas it conveys also appears to be the end-point of education for liberal arts advocates, rather than just a means to an end. The content of the education is frequently described as ‘the best which has been thought or said’ (Arnold, 1869), and the purpose to enable students to participate in the ‘conversation of mankind’ (Oakeshott, 1962).

The privileging of words and abstract ideas over the nitty-gritty of everyday life is a characteristic of liberal arts education that runs from Plato through the mediaeval period to the modern day. Plato was primarily concerned with the philosopher king and the philosophers who debated with him, not with people who grew vegetables, made copper pots or traded olive oil.   Charlemagne’s focus was on making sure priests could read the Vulgate and that there were enough skilled scribes to keep records, not in improving technology, or the fortunes of the wool industry.

This dualistic rift still permeates thinking about education as evidenced by the ongoing debate about academic v vocational education. Modern-day liberal arts advocates favour the academic approach because, rightly, they see education as more than preparation for work.   Their emphasis, instead, is on cultural literacy. Cultural literacy is important for everybody because it gives access to ideas. However, the flow of information needs to be in two directions, not just one.

Recent events suggest that policy-makers who attended even ‘the best’ private schools, where cultural literacy was highly valued, have struggled to generate workable solutions to the main challenges facing the human race; the four identified by Capra and Luisi (2014) are globalisation, climate change, agriculture, and sustainable design. The root causes and the main consequences of such challenges involve the lowest, very concrete levels that would be familiar to ancient Greek farmers, coppersmiths and merchants, to mediaeval carpenters and weavers, and to those who work in modern factories, but might be unfamiliar to philosophers, scholars or politicians who could rely on slaves or servants.

An education that equips people for life rather than work does not have to put language and ideas on a pedestal; we are embodied beings that live in a world that is uncompromisingly concrete and sometimes sordidly practical. An all-round education will involve practical science, technology and hands-on craft skills, not to prepare students for a job, but so they know how the world works.  It will not just prepare them for participating in conversations.

references

Arnold, M (1869).  Culture and Anarchy.  Accessed via Project Gutenberg http://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/4212/pg4212-images.html

Capra, F and Luisi, PL (2014).  The Systems View of Life, Cambridge University Press (p. 394)

Oakeshott, M (1962).”The Voice of Poetry in the Conversation of Mankind” in Rationalism in Politics and Other Essays. London: Methuen, 197-247. Accessed here http://english.ttu.edu/kairos/2.1/features/brent/oakeshot.htm

the Tiger Teachers and cognitive science

Cognitive science is a key plank in the Tiger Teachers’ model of knowledge. If I’ve understood it properly the model looks something like this:

Cognitive science has discovered that working memory has limited capacity and duration, so pupils can’t process large amounts of novel information. If this information is secured in long-term memory via spaced, interleaved practice, students can recall it instantly whenever they need it, freeing up working memory for thinking.

What’s wrong with that? Nothing, as it stands. It’s what’s missing that’s the problem.

Subject knowledge

One of the Tiger Teachers’ beefs about the current education system is its emphasis on transferable skills. They point out that skills are not universally transferable, many are subject-specific, and in order to develop expertise in higher-level skills novices need a substantial amount of subject knowledge. Tiger Teachers’ pupils are expected to pay attention to experts (their teachers) and memorise a lot of facts before they can comprehend, apply, analyse, synthesise or evaluate. The model is broadly supported by cognitive science and the Tiger Teachers apply it rigorously to children. But not to themselves, it seems.

For most Tiger Teachers cognitive science will be an unfamiliar subject area. That makes them (like most of us) cognitive science novices. Obviously they don’t need to become experts in cognitive science to apply it to their educational practice, but they do need the key facts and concepts and a basic overview of the field. The overview is important because they need to know how the facts fit together and the limitations of how they can be applied.   But with a few honourable exceptions (Daisy Christodoulou, David Didau and Greg Ashman spring to mind – apologies if I’ve missed anyone out), many Tiger Teachers don’t appear to have even thought about acquiring expertise, key facts and concepts or an overview. As a consequence facts are misunderstood or overlooked, principles from other knowledge domains are applied inappropriately, and erroneous assumptions made about how science works. Here are some examples (page numbers refer to Battle Hymn of the Tiger Teachers):

It’s a fact…

Teachers’ brains work exactly the same way as pupils’” (p.177). No they don’t. Cognitive science (ironically) thinks that children’s brains begin by forming trillions of connections (synapses). Then through to early adulthood, synapses that aren’t used get pruned, which makes information processing more efficient. (There’s a good summary here.)  Pupils’ brains are as different to teachers’ brains as children’s bodies are different to adults’ bodies. Similarities don’t mean they’re identical.

Then there’s working memory.As the cognitive scientist Daniel Willingham explains, we learn by transferring knowledge from the short-term memory to the long term memory” (p177). Well, kind of – if you assume that what Willingham explicitly describes as “just about the simplest model of the mind possible”  is an exhaustive model of memory. If you think that, you might conclude, wrongly, “the more knowledge we have in long-term memory, the more space we have in our working memory to process new information” (p.177). Or that “information cannot accumulate into long-term memory while working memory is being used” (p.36).

Long-term memory takes centre stage in the Tiger Teachers’ model of cognition. The only downside attributed to it is our tendency to forget things if we don’t revisit them (p.22). Other well-established characteristics of long-term memory – its unreliability, errors and biases – are simply overlooked, despite Daisy Christodoulou’s frequent citation of Daniel Kahneman whose work focused on those flaws.

With regard to transferable skills we’re told “cognitive scientist Herb Simon and his colleagues have cast doubt on the idea that there are any general or transferable cognitive skills” (p.17), when what they actually cast doubt on is the ideas that all skills are transferable or that none are.

The Michaela cognitive model is distinctly reductionist; “all there is to intelligence is the simple accrual and tuning of many small units of knowledge that in total produce complex cognition” (p.19). Then there’s “skills are simply just a composite of sequential knowledge – all skills can be broken down to irreducible pieces of knowledge” (p.161).

The statement about intelligence is a direct quote from John Anderson’s paper ‘A Simple Theory of Complex Cognition’ but Anderson isn’t credited, so you might not know he was talking about simple encodings of objects and transformations, and that by ‘intelligence’ he means how ants behave rather than IQ. I’ve looked at Daisy Christodoulou’s interpretation of Anderson’s model here.

The idea that intelligence and skills consist ‘simply just’ of units of knowledge ignores Anderson’s procedural rules and marginalises the role of the schema – the way people configure their knowledge. Joe Kirby mentions “procedural and substantive schemata” (p. 17), but seems to see them only in terms of how units of knowledge are configured for teaching purposes; “subject content knowledge is best organised into the most memorable schemata … chronological, cumulative schemata help pupils remember subject knowledge in the long term” (p.21). The concept of schemata as the way individuals, groups or entire academic disciplines configure their knowledge, that the same knowledge can be configured in different ways resulting in different meanings, or that configurations sometimes turn out to be profoundly wrong, doesn’t appear to feature in the Tiger Teachers’ model.

Skills: to transfer or not to transfer?

Tiger Teachers see higher-level skills as subject-specific. That hasn’t stopped them applying higher-level skills from one domain inappropriately to another. In her critique of Bloom’s taxonomy, Daisy Christodoulou describes it as a ‘metaphor’ for the relationship between knowledge and skills. She refers to two other metaphors; ED Hirsch’s scrambled egg and Joe Kirby’s double helix (Seven Myths p.21).  Daisy, Joe and ED teach English, and metaphors are an important feature in English literature. Scientists do use metaphors, but they use analogies more often, because in the natural world patterns often repeat themselves at different levels of abstraction. Daisy, Joe and ED are right to complain about Bloom’s taxonomy being used to justify divorcing skills from knowledge. And the taxonomy itself might be wrong or misleading.   But it is a taxonomy and it is based on an important scientific concept – levels of abstraction – so should be critiqued as such, not as if it were a device used by a novelist.

Not all evidence is equal

A major challenge for novices is what criteria they can use to decide whether or not factual information is valid. They can’t use their overview of a subject area if they don’t have one. They can’t weigh up one set of facts against another if they don’t know enough facts. So Tiger Teachers who are cognitive science novices have to fall back on the criteria ED Hirsch uses to evaluate psychology – the reputation of researchers and consensus. Those might be key criteria in evaluating English literature, but they’re secondary issues for scientific research, and for good reason.

Novices then have to figure out how to evaluate the reputation of researchers and consensus. The Tiger Teachers struggle with reputation. Daniel Willingham and Paul Kirschner are cited more frequently than Herb Simon, but with all due respect to Willingham and Kirschner, they’re not quite in the same league. Other key figures don’t get a mention.  When asked what was missing from the Tiger Teachers’ presentations at ResearchEd, I suggested, for starters, Baddeley and Hitch’s model of working memory. It’s been a dominant model for 40 years and has the rare distinction of being supported by later biological research. But it’s mentioned only in an endnote in Willingham’s Why Don’t Students Like School and in Daisy’s Seven Myths about Education. I recommended inviting Alan Baddeley to speak at ResearchEd – he’s a leading authority on memory after all.   One of the teachers said he’d never even heard of him. So why was that teacher doing a presentation on memory at a national education conference?

The Tiger Teachers also struggle with consensus. Joe Kirby emphasises the length of time an idea has been around and the number of studies that support it (pp.22-3), overlooking the fact that some ideas can dominate a field for decades, be supported by hundreds of studies and then turn out to be profoundly wrong; theories about how brains work are a case in point.   Scientific theory doesn’t rely on the quantity of supporting evidence; it relies on an evaluation of all relevant evidence – supporting and contradictory – and takes into account the quality of that evidence as well.  That’s why you need a substantial body of knowledge before you can evaluate it.

The big picture

For me, Battle Hymn painted a clearer picture of the Michaela Community School than I’d been able to put together from blog posts and visitors’ descriptions. It persuaded me that Michaela’s approach to behaviour management is about being explicit and consistent, rather than simply being ‘strict’. I think having a week’s induction for new students and staff (‘bootcamp’) is a great idea. A systematic, rigorous approach to knowledge is vital and learning by rote can be jolly useful. But for me, those positives were all undermined by the Tiger Teachers’ approach to their own knowledge.  Omitting key issues in discussions of Rousseau’s ideas, professional qualifications or the special circumstances of schools in coastal and rural areas, is one thing. Pontificating about cognitive science and then ignoring what it says is quite another.

I can understand why Tiger Teachers want to share concepts like the limited capacity of working memory and skills not being divorced from knowledge.  Those concepts make sense of problems and have transformed their teaching.  But for many Tiger Teachers, their knowledge of cognitive science appears to be based on a handful of poorly understood factoids acquired second or third hand from other teachers who don’t have a good grasp of the field either. Most teachers aren’t going to know much about cognitive science; but that’s why most teachers don’t do presentations about it at national conferences or go into print to share their flimsy knowledge about it.  Failing to acquire a substantial body of knowledge about cognitive science makes its comprehension, application, analysis, synthesis and evaluation impossible.  The Tiger Teachers’ disregard for principles they claim are crucial is inconsistent, disingenuous, likely to lead to significant problems, and sets a really bad example for pupils. The Tiger Teachers need to re-write some of the lyrics of their Battle Hymn.

References

Birbalsingh, K (2016).  Battle Hymn of the Tiger Teachers: The Michaela Way.  John Catt Educational.

Christodoulou, D (2014).  Seven Myths about Education.  Routledge.