Future Proof Your Child

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Call out Homophobia for what it is.

I knew my son was gay for years before he told us. He just had such good taste and from such an early age. And he loved to come shopping with me😉 I’m being flippant of course, but we just knew. When he finally sat down last year, at 16 to tell us, it came as no surprise.

“I want to tell you something,” he said, “I’m gay.”

“We know,” we said.

Then we all watched telly. Well, we did have a bit of a chat – why now? Are you ok with us telling the rest of the family? And so on. But basically it was not a stressful conversation. We laughed quite a bit.

“Emily said you’d be cool with it,” he said “she said – for god’s sake, your Mum has been practising in front of the mirror for ten years for this moment.” Emily was right.

My son is a beautiful young man with a good heart and an ability in Art that blows my mind. He’s thoughtful, kind, funny and just easy to get along with. The fact that he’s gay is completely irrelevant in terms of how much I love him. I don’t love him in spite of being gay. I don’t love him because he’s gay. I just love him and everything he is.

So when I see that a man has walked into a nightclub and killed over 50 men and women; that he targeted them specifically for being gay, it strikes a fear into my heart that is almost too much to carry. I want to keep my son home, tell him never to go anywhere where he might be targeted. But then they win, don’t they? The fear in my heart is their reward for the hatred in theirs. I can only replace it with hope if I’m to win.

We should not let the fact that this man mentioned ISIS before he targeted this group of people blind us to the fact that this was a hate crime. We should not let anyone use their religion as a shield for hatred. No religion on this earth preaches hatred and anyone who claims to be Muslim or Christian who thinks that killing is justified, is sinning in the eyes of their own God. The sanctity of life trumps all.

This was a crime of hatred. Hatred IS the thing. It’s a thing we should tackle as parents. As teachers. As human beings who want to live in a peaceful and loving world. Every time we hear a child calling another one, or even a thing, ‘gay’ we need to stop. Not stop it dead. But stop and examine it. You don’t stop hatred by driving it under ground. You don’t stop prejudice by making a child feel bad. You stop it by examining it for what it is. By talking about it. By being explicit that if you use a word to mean that something is rubbish and that word describes a group of people, you are, by association, saying that that group of people are rubbish. Is that what you really want to say? And if so, why? You see prejudice thrives in the dusty corners that we turn a blind eye to. Every “they didn’t mean it,” “it’s just a turn of phrase,” “it’s harmless” is not only a denial of the problem; it adds to the problem. I once went into my son’s primary school concerned that he was constantly being called “Gay Boy”. He was only 10. I was dismissed by a headteacher who said “Oh it’s just banter – they don’t mean anything by it.” People like him let the dust settle until it becomes a choking threat. I wish I’d said more to him.

My 9 year old came home the other day.

“Everyone kept saying my brother was gay today.”

“What did you say?”

“So what if he is!”

It’s a good answer and I’m glad he felt confident enough to say it. We need all children to be able to say ‘so what’? And to be able to do that, we need schools to be confident enough to tackle the issue in the way they would tackle racism.

By labelling this “just” another terrorist attack, we turn our eyes away from the complexity of hatred. It lives everywhere. And only by shining a light on it, seeing it for what it is, can we have any chance of defeating it. And replacing it with hope.


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The Reality of the Exam System

Anecdote alert. Some people don’t like anecdotal evidence. They prefer bell curves and statistics. But we all know that statistics hide an awful lot of detail and for parents, the single example of their family life is all the data they need. Here are some stories about the changes to exams over the past few years and how they have impacted on my family. I know ours is not a unique experience.

Firstly, I should say we’ve been mostly lucky. Three boys who have largely enjoyed school, who are engaged with the world and are curious, creative and mostly happy. But the eldest two feel that they survived the system rather than being allowed to thrive in it. And the youngest is learning that the most exciting education he receives is the one outside of school.

Child number one. When he was in reception class, his teacher took me to one side. “I’m keeping him out of assemblies so we can have some one to one time. He has so many questions and is so insatiably curious, that I can’t cope with them when there are 29 other kids around. Is this ok?” Of course it was ok – I was grateful for her attention. When he was in Year 6, his class teacher gave him GCSE papers to do to keep him occupied. He loved being tested and sailed through SATs pretty much with full marks. Learning was easy for him. Minimal effort, maximum outcome. Then came KS3. Bored to tears, repeating subject matter he’d already encountered at primary school, he switched off. He barely opened a book in preparation for GCSEs. Be careful, we warned him – you can’t blag these exams. But he did. A sweep of As and A*s and again little effort. When it came to AS levels, he had a bit more of a shock. An English Literature result came in as a Grade D. His hopes of going to Oxford looked unlikely. But we were middle class and could afford to ask for a remark. And that D became a B and overall the B became an A. He made it to Oxford. Whereupon his tutor said “The first term here is about undoing all the damage that A Level did to you – you need to learn how to think, how to work, how to write.” And finally, my son had to work. He had to work really hard – for the first time since primary school, he rediscovered his love for learning and the rewarding feeling of challenge. He was lucky. But he still found it really hard to get a job. And two years later, his Oxford graduate girlfriend, with a high 2:1 in Biology, is working as a waitress and doing volunteer work in conservation in the hope that one day, a job will become available to her.

Child number 2. On paper, he’s as successful as his brother, but he’s had to work much, much harder for it. A talented artist, it became clear early on that no-one in primary school really cared about Art. The only things that mattered now were Literacy and Numeracy. In the seven years since his older brother had been in primary, things had moved on. Results were everything. He got his Level 5s, worked for them, but was bored and disillusioned with school. Like his brother, KS3 was dull as ditchwater, except for the chance to do Art. He spent as much time in the Art room as possible and jumped at the chance to take it for GCSE. He would have like to have taken DT as well, but his school forced him to take German. He hated it with a passion. Passed it and can’t speak a word. He found a very different GCSE world in 2016 to the one his brother had experienced in 2009. No speaking and listening in English. No modules. His A in a module for Science was dropped when the school realised that first grades only would count and moved hastily to a linear system in the middle of his GCSE years. It seemed like a mad decision – “but he’s already bagged an A”, we pointed out to the Head. But what mattered was not the individual’s results but the trend across the year group. That trend was slightly down. The decision was made to move to linear in the hope that the trend would go up. It didn’t. The move to linear in a system that was designed to be modular meant he sat around 25 exams in a three week period. His brother had sat the same over a two year period. No wonder the elder had sailed through. Younger was predicted an A/B in Maths. But then came Hannah’s sweets on the paper. It wasn’t, he explained, that there was a difficult question that threw him, but that it came in the middle of the paper, when all previous papers had been designed to get increasingly hard. This pattern had been designed to build confidence and this paper changed the game. Some would argue that it’s meant to be tough – that kids shouldn’t be able to predict the order of questions or their difficulty. But this is to ignore the fragile nature of confidence. Or how the mind copes with stress when it is exhausted – like when it has already sat six exams that week. He panicked and scraped a C. No big deal, we decided. He has the Maths in the bag, will never need most of that stuff again. The rest of his results were great, with the exception of German (another C won through blood, sweat and tears when an A or A* in DT would have been within his grasp). Move on.

Ah. Move on – to what? AS Levels of course. Except this year group were about to face the farce that has been the decoupling of AS Levels from A Level. But not all AS Levels. Only some. To date, a year on, as a parent, I have had no formal communication from his college about which were uncoupled, what it meant and why. I had to go in to ask. It turns out that  only Philosophy is now counting as an AS. His other three subjects will have to be taken again at A2 level – double the amount of exams in the second year. So why bother doing AS at all? We were told as parents that it would allow universities to be able to offer places on the grounds of ‘real’ results. But the AS levels are not real – they’ve not been cashed in. And other colleges, offering only predicted grades, are free to inflate them. Furthermore, what we’ve found, as he’s spent weeks and weeks practising AS exam question technique and revising, is that other colleges, who decided not to bother with AS but put kids straight through to A2, are already teaching A2 content and starting coursework that my son won’t start for weeks, perhaps months. They haven’t had to lose five weeks to exam prep, revision and examination days. Those kids are weeks ahead of mine. Was this explained to me as a parent? No. Has anyone explained the changes to you and their implications, if you have a child sitting GCSEs?

As I write, there are specs for next year that are still to be approved and released. Teachers wanting to prep and plan for the new academic year are hampered by an extraordinary delay. Last year, the exam boards were so pressed for examiners, they were employing undergraduates with no experience of the exam or of teaching, to mark them. Teacher examiners were begged to take on extra papers, even though the research shows that overloading examiners compromises quality of marking. Some papers were even being marked on the day that results were released. Are parents aware of the cracks in the system? That we can’t rely on the results? Do they know that last year saw a record number of remarks? Or that the earlier you got your request for a remark in, the more likely you were to have the grade changed?

Our exam system is broken. And I was stung today to be told that to say so, is to be irresponsible. That to suggest that effort won’t guarantee success is irresponsible. Really? My own children’s experiences suggest otherwise. The experiences of working people all over the world every day suggest otherwise. The rise in wealth of those with access to what George Monbiot calls ‘unearned income’ at the expense of those grafting tells its own tale. It may be an unpalatable truth that we can’t trust exams. It may be even more unpalatable that exam success does not necessarily equate to success in the wider world. But we have a responsibility to crack open these issues to debate. Like I said earlier, we’re lucky. My gripes are minor – a small disappointment here, a minor inconvenience there. But for many, many children, whose parents don’t have an insight into the system, or those with SEN, who are now even more hampered by changes to the GCSEs, such as the removal of compensation for spelling and grammar for dyslexic children, the system is critically damaging.

So what can we do?

We can tell our children that there are no guarantees. That effort will make success more likely, but that it’s not the whole picture.

We can encourage our children to be flexible in their thinking – talking to them about complex issues where they have to consider many points of view. To get them to expect the unexpected so that surprises in exams don’t panic them.

We can tell them the truth, that in the end what will matter more than grades, are experiences and contacts. Encourage them to work. A job on a CV is worth its weight in gold. Build their contacts and wider experiences so they have references. It’s another uncomfortable truth that contacts count far more than grades when securing your first graduate position. That’s why the Opportunity Network in New York has been so successful. We need one of those here.

Don’t over organise younger children with timetabled activities. Leave them time to read, to explore knowledge, to build their capacity to concentrate and become obsessed with an interest. My youngest doesn’t feature much in this post, but he’s been teaching himself Japanese for the past two years, and Korean as a second language for the past year. He decided he was a Buddhist and that led onto an obsession with Asia and now with Asian Languages. He’s decided he wants to study Japanese, live in Japan… He’s nine. It all might change. But a dream dreamed in youth is a powerful thing. Leave space for dreams to grow.

And most of all, remind them, again and again, that tests are not the be all and end all. Personality, persistence, goodness, reliability – all these things, in the end, will matter.

 

 


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Why I’ll Boycott the SATs.

My youngest is in Year 4 so I have time to make this momentous decision about whether or not to enter him for SATs. A quick scout on Mumsnet shows I’m not the only one wondering this. And over in the US, 53% of parents across Long Island refused permission for their children to sit the Common Core exams – a pattern repeating itself across the US. I’ve mooted the idea on twitter and to friends and had a very mixed response.

“You’re brave – I don’t think I’d dare have that conversation with the Head” said one parent, who was brave enough to take on the school about bullying, but not about the fact that her child weeps in Year 6 at the thought of going to school.

“You’ll ruin the Ofsted outcomes for the school,” said another “and that poor teacher won’t get a pay rise for her results.” Since when was a parent expected to put the needs of the school before her child?

Some have questioned whether or not I’m putting my beliefs before the interests of my child. And others have suggested it’s the law and I have no choice. Both are wrong.

It is the law that schools must administer and report the tests. They are also expected to do everything they can to ensure that children take them. But they can’t force them to. Strictly speaking, there is nothing in law to say you can’t refuse to allow your child to take them. And I can see that being in school on the day that everyone does the tests might make your child uncomfortable and create a difficulty for the school. So the best option seems to be to keep them off and make sure they’re getting a great home schooled experience in the meantime. I don’t think mine will complain too much if we spend time in museums, galleries and libraries on those days.

As for my beliefs…well, I don’t believe that tests are necessarily a bad thing. I let my other children sit them, even though by the time the second child did his, stakes were higher and the school had reduced his curriculum offer down to little more than literacy and numeracy. Science stopped. Languages stopped. Art and music had hardly even started. I had concerns, but I complied. But these tests, these new ones, they’re a completely different creature altogether.

Firstly, they teach children the wrong things. For example, the DfE guidelines on the use of exclamation marks states that they should only be used in sentences beginning with the word what. Tell that to Dickens. And to all those children who think that sentences beginning with what should have a question mark. And take a couple of these sample questions:-

Turn the following question into a command – Can you please bring me your running shoes? Make sure you use the correct punctuation.

The answer “Bring me your running shoes.” should be acceptable. But it’s not. Apparently it is only correct if it has an exclamation mark after it. But wait…doesn’t the DfE say….? Confused? Imagine being 10.

And on the KS1 practice paper? Spot the verbs in this sentence

She was wearing her running shoes.

Now you and I know that running in this context is an adjective. It’s a trick question. What kind of monster tries to trick a 6 year old in a test? And let’s not even go into the farce that the DfE admitted to today when it was revealed that the actual KS1 tests the children are about to sit contain the same questions that were in a practice paper published on their website. If some children did that paper, they’ve already seen the questions and been through the answers. If they didn’t, they won’t. Yet the results will form the benchmark on which the child and the school will be judged at KS2. Fair test? Ha ha ha.

But worse than all that is the relentless pressure put on young people to perform. In one school I visited, the whole of year 6 were in exam halls doing a mock paper on a beautiful, sunny day. In another school Year 6 were told by their teacher that if they didn’t pass their SATs she would cancel their planned play day – a supposed reward for hard work over the year. All across the country, stressed teachers are imposing expectations on stressed children that are completely unrealistic and unfair. And for what?

SATs don’t benefit children. Private schools don’t do them. Most Secondaries are suspicious of them and tend to reassess children on entry. And yet, in others, that mark, gained on one day will lead teachers, Ofsted inspectors and government to judge the child’s projected performance from that day forward. Based on their SATs results, their GCSEs will be predicted. Yes, even in subjects like Art and PE where there is little connection to the tests. It is this nonsensical belief that a child’s future is set in stone; that their capacity to grow, change, develop is irrelevant, that really pushes me over the edge. I want my child to be assessed based on their performance at the time they are assessed. Not for an old score to follow them like a shadow. In our local secondary school, Year 9 children are placed in sets based on their SATs results. What about basing it on their performance in Years 7 and 8? If there isn’t a SATs score, they’ll have to do just that.

I absolutely believe that we, as parents, are colluding in a system of abuse if we don’t stand up and speak out about such inconsistency and conflict of interest. That’s not to say we should all boycott – that’s a matter of personal choice, made between each parent and each child. But we should certainly question the habit of teaching to the test, the narrowing of the curriculum, the belief that the performance in one test is transferable to another to be sat in five years’ time and to any suggestion at all, that failure to perform in a test will lead to a punishment. That is not acceptable under any circumstances.


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The Fuss about Academies

If you’re not steeped in education speak, you may have felt nonplussed by the news last week that all schools were to become Academies. You may be aware of people who feel very unhappy about it and others who don’t see the problem. What seems to be lacking in the debate is clear information for parents. As usual.

Like any school, there are good and bad academies. Born out of New Labour, the academy programme was introduced to ‘rescue’ failing schools. The idea was that by bringing in fresh management, often new buildings, and freedom to innovate, schools might turn themselves around. It’s a bit of a myth that academies gain control of the land and buildings when they take them over, or that they are a form of privatisation, free to make a profit. It is written into their contracts that they only have the lease of the land and buildings – usually for 100 years; that they must use those facilities for educational purposes and that they should not make a profit. These measures should protect schools from being sold off or turned into money making exercises. Should. But, there are many ways to turn being an academy sponsor to your advantage of course – I’ll outline a few of these later.

There are two kinds of academy – converter and forced. Converters choose to become academies. In the early days of this government, there were some tempting financial incentives to do so and many secondary schools in particular took up the offer. When Nicky Morgan presents rosy statistics about academies, she usually selects them from the group of converter academies. In most cases, these schools were looking for ways to improve and sought academisation as a way of gaining a degree of autonomy and some financial means to push forward improvement.

The other type of academy, however, is one that has been forced to leave local authority control and be taken over by a sponsor. For the remaining schools – 89% of primary schools and 41% of secondary schools –  who had not chosen to become an academy, they will now be forced to. This is upsetting a lot of Headteachers for many reasons. Firstly, they argue that as a “good” or “outstanding” school already, there is no need for them to convert – what they are doing now is working. They argue that the time, legal costs and energy it will take to convert will take them and their staff away from focusing on what matters – teaching and learning. To put this into context, it costs around £25,000 per school to convert. All of this money goes on legal fees and the time taken to do this for a senior leader is considerable. The total estimated cost for forced academisation is £500,000,000 – equivalent to 20,000 teachers at a time where there is a desperate shortage of teachers. For many teachers and parents the issue here is not whether academies can be good or bad, but whether the outcomes justify the cost.

Furthermore, research suggests that schools forced to become academies do not improve. In fact in many cases, they become worse. This research prompted the Education Select Committee in Parliament to ask the government to desist from exaggerating the benefits of academies last year. In addition, the education watchdog, Ofsted has warned that leading academy chains are failing young people and not offering the improvements they promised. Further concerns have been raised about the salaries of CEOs of academy chains – while the sponsors cannot post profits, there is no limit on the pay they can offer their executives. The head of the Harris chain, for example, earns £400,000 per year – far, far more than an equivalent head of Education in a Local Authority. And there have been a number of unsavoury claims of academy leaders profiting from their position.

Some schools have been happy to convert to academy status and their parent body and children are happy too. They have found partners and sponsors who share their ethos and values and who offer valuable expertise. The RSA chain of academies are committed, for example, to broadening out the curriculum offer for children and ensuring they have access to Arts and Creativity as well as academic programmes. There are many other chains and sponsors with strong altruistic values. But as a parent, you have little choice as to which one to choose. Some are already highly experienced in education, some are couch groups, some have no prior connections with education whatsoever. Chains tend to target a geographical area, so your choices of sponsor become a post code lottery. Curriculum freedoms mean that some may offer exciting, broad learning experiences, but equally they may result in schools narrowing their offer to only that which is tested.

One of the biggest concerns raised from the announcement last week was the changes to Qualified Teacher Status. At the moment, if your child attends a local authority school, they must be taught by a qualified teacher. This rule does not apply to academies. In fact the teacher need not even had a degree. One academy in Leeds last year advertised for two mathematics teachers – their job descriptions did not even demand an A Level in Maths. Of course, unqualified teachers are cheap. But they are also likely to be transient and ill equipped for the demands of a classroom. The reality of unqualified teachers in state schools is far removed from the idyll in some of our leading public schools, where Olympians and experienced academics will visit the school to coach the students. In the state sector, the unqualified tend to be just that. Unqualified.

Even trainee teachers with degrees who would normally have undergone rigorous training either in a university or through a school based organisation, will not have QTS conferred upon them until their Headteacher decides to do so. Moving a teacher from non-qualified to qualified pay scales is very expensive. It will be tempting for senior leaders to defer offering qualified status to their staff in the face of cuts and financial challenges in schools. This is a grey area and a worrying one.

It would be far too simplistic to say that all academies are bad or good. But it’s not too radical to say that this policy is worrying. It removes choice for parents, who up to now may have had the choice of an academy, a locally run school, a church school or other. It claims to offer headteachers autonomy, but in fact is forcing them into a decision few want to make. The hunt for a good sponsor or the work of starting up from scratch a MAT partnership of your own is daunting for heads, and diverting of their attention. As a policy it seems to have little evidence to support it in terms of what the Secretary of State claims it will offer. And it seems to completely miss the key issues facing the education system at the moment – namely a chronic shortage of teachers and cuts to funding resulting in higher class sizes and reduced resources. And what if the school coverts to an academy and then fails? The proposals suggest that the schools will fall under the control of the Secretary of State. That might be alright if you’re based in London. But a parent with concerns in Newcastle is a long way from the DfE.

Most of all, parents of children with special educational needs have additional cause for concern. A recent report found that academies were far more likely to exclude children with SEN than local schools – often illegally – and that some were guilty of modes of selection that meant they were not fully complying with entrance procedures. This is still a matter for concern.

As a parent, I’m worried about what will happen to my local school – the one I would automatically have sent my child too at the age of 11. It is currently the only secondary in the area under local authority control. As a teacher who has worked in some wonderful academies with great vision and leadership, and yet who has seen others crush their staff and pupils with bureaucracy and ideology, I know how patchy and unreliable the outcome could be. It worries me. It should worry you.

 

 


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It Won’t Happen to Me

I’m keen that this isn’t my blog, but one where parents feel they can share their experiences and concerns. So I’m delighted that Nancy Gedge contributed this for the second post. Thanks so much Nancy.

It’s always someone else…

Now that my eldest child is 15 and nearing the end of his school days, I don’t find myself thinking about his babyhood very often. It’s strange, but somehow the teenager I see before me, the one who is always hungry and hates his spots seems to bear no relation to the babe I held in my arms, the firstborn I waited for all those years ago. Together we have travelled a road through time that has not only changed him, but me. As well as asking myself where he went, I find myself wondering what happened to her too.

That woman, the one who excitedly bought teeny-weeny baby socks (you know, the ones that you really buy for yourself because there is no way that you can ever get the damn things to stay on a teeny-weeny baby foot), read her baby book from cover to cover (subconsciously taking in all those lovely, fluffy photos of babies who never cry – except in an attractive way – and who never poop all the way down their legs and half way up their backs) seems like an alien creature.

You see, there’s this thing about having babies of your own, you know, the sort of real ones who keep you up til all hours wailing and generally having tummy aches or other mysterious ailments, that does a very fine job of bringing any rose-coloured preconceptions you might have had about the state of early parenthood crashing to the floor and splintering them into a thousand million little rose-coloured shards. And, as they grow, the destruction of your preconceptions continues.

The chance to go to the toilet on your own? Ha. Siblings playing happily and sharing toys nicely? Ho ho ho. A full night’s sleep? Yeah, right.

Mind you, it has to be said that the vast majority of my expectations disappeared about three days after my firstborn arrived. It’s not a very nice experience, I can tell you. There you are, recovering, and in come a load of doctors and nurses with long, long faces and clipboards with blood test results and there it is. Everything you thought you were expecting isn’t. That moment when you are told that your child doesn’t measure up to the perfect-ometer is a bit of a shocker.

The thing is, I suppose, that we all have expectations of our children. I certainly did before Down’s syndrome came along and knocked them all flying like skittles. We think, when we hold that baby in our arms that they will be the brightest and the best; they will be the next Formula 1 champion, or football star, or whatever it was we wished we had turned out to be. Being told that this will not happen, and instead they will face a future of hard graft, just to get the smallest amount of mastery over the basics, is a hard egg to swallow.

So why am I telling you this? Why am I, a primary school teacher, and ordinary working mum-of-three sharing the destruction of my hopes and dreams in such a way? Because, aside from the fact that March is all about Down’s syndrome awareness for me, I am worried.

You see, being told that your child doesn’t measure up, that they fall short of national expectations isn’t very nice. In a funny kind of way, I am thankful that we received our son’s diagnosis when he was a tiny baby, because by the time he was eleven or twelve years old, those feelings of failure, or grief and disappointment, had faded well into the background. He has never had to deal with them. But now, things are different, and not just for us, the one in however many infinitesimally small number that we were.

Because our children, even if they don’t have a learning difficulty, if they don’t get to the expected standard in Year 6, they’ll have to do all that hard graft, that learning of grammar and spelling and maths all over again in Year 7. On the face of it we might raise our eyebrows in smug self-satisfaction, look at our charming offspring, so lively, so talented, and wonder what all the fuss is about. Of course they ought to reach the expected standard. It’s expected, after all. What a silly little thing to get our knickers in a twist about.

Only the thing is, I look at my daughter. She is ten years old, and bright as a button. She is smiley and giggly, she runs around and gets tangled hair and dirty knees. She has just discovered that she can read an entire novel and enjoy it and she gets cross with maths. She is everything, in fact, that a ten year old should be. Except, according to curriculum measurements, she isn’t. Since the introduction of a new standard, she is below national expectations, and, just at the point when she should be facing secondary school with that butterfly feeling (there are Bunsen burners and art rooms that smell of mysterious concoctions, music rooms and a drama studio, a gym with ropes that go all the way up to the ceiling and a big grand piano tucked away in the corner), she will open her school report and understand that she falls short.

Will all those wonderful things be hers? The art, the cooking, the science and history? Will she have access to a broad and balanced joyful education suitable for the young person she is? Or will she have the constant dry diet of narrowness that she is already experiencing in order to justify her teacher’s continuance on the pay scale? Will she be paying the price of far off decisions made in far off Westminster?

When I write or talk about Down’s syndrome there is always the caveat that these things don’t happen to very many people (as if that somehow makes them less awful). That this knowledge of not measuring up to someone else’s scale affected us, but not so much him. But this. This one affects us all.


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10 Scary Facts about School

  1. Under proposed new assessment guidance for tests for 11 year olds, if your child scores 5 out of 6 for their ability to change nouns to adjectives by adding prefixes/suffixes, they’ll end up with a grand score of 0. For more on this, read this article from the Cambridge Primary Review.
  2. If your child does SATS tests in the next year and beyond, they are expected to be writing, reading and doing maths at a level previously expected of a child at least a year older. The “expected” level has risen dramatically. If they fall short, they will have to resit in Year 7.
  3. The baseline tests given to your child when they are 4 will be used to predict their outcomes aged 16 – a trajectory that completely ignores that children develop at different rates or that in reception class some children are almost a year older than others. Teachers and schools will be judged against this benchmark. Very few children progress in a nice, neat line.
  4. The skills and knowledge in the grammar tests for 11 year olds are more advanced than those expected of GCSE.
  5. If your child sits GCSEs or A Levels, you need to know that these exams are not consistent from year to year. In addition to the tinkering of grades (moving away from A*-G and towards 1-9) and content, there are anomalies in the marking. Last year saw the greatest number of requests for remarks ever, but the most successful requests were those that came in early. If your child needs a remark, get the application in as fast as you can. In addition, there are anomalies and discrepancies in the ways that the results are decided upon. It’s possible for your child to get a higher mark than someone who took the test last year, and yet still get a lower grade because boundaries are set to make it look like the results are roughly the same every year. Read this for more information.
  6. Over the next four years, an extra 300,000 children will need a place at secondary school due to rising population. Yet 59% of secondary schools are oversubscribed now. This shortage of places is being exacerbated by the teacher shortage. More teachers left the country to work abroad last year than applied to become teachers. Almost 50% of teachers leave the profession within 5 years of qualifying. If you want a teacher in front of your child, things need to change.
  7. 50% of jobs secured by graduates didn’t require a degree.
  8. Most of the apprenticeships created by government go to over 25s – and many of those are already employed by the companies who rebrand them as apprentices so they can pay them less.
  9. School budgets have been hit so hard by cuts that many are now asking parents for donations in the form of monthly direct debits or one off contributions. This is a growing problem and a challenge to the idea that education is free at the point of access. See this report in Schools Week.
  10. The public’s interest in education is at an all time low. This creates a situation in which changes can be made without protest. For education to change, parents need to take charge. Teachers will always be dismissed as moaners. Parents are considered to be voters. Whatever our political persuasion, we need to demand research led, rigorous policies that are in the best interests of children, not businesses and politicians.

What can we do? Arm ourselves with knowledge. Ask questions when we go into school. Ask questions of our politicians. And ultimately, if we worry about the integrity of tests, we should exercise our parental rights and boycott them.

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