There’s a new world somewhere. A response to the release of the Teacher Education Expert Panel (TEEP) Report

                                                                   Image source: Joshua Rawson-Harris, Unsplash

 

On July 6, the final Report of the (Australian) Teacher Education Expert Panel (TEEP) Strong Beginnings, was released. There have been over 100 reviews of Initial Teacher Education (ITE) in Australia since 2008, yet no substantial reforms have resulted. Let's not forget too, the 2005 National Inquiry into the Teaching of Literacy. Not one university or education jurisdiction in Australia adopted the recommendations of that report. We can only ponder how different our position would be, 18 years on, in 2023, had the response to that report created the disruption that was clearly needed. I have blogged previously about the resistance to change in ITE on reading instruction, likening this to the quirky and painfully slow pitch-drop experiment that has been running at the University of Queensland since 1927.

One might reasonably wonder (a) why we have had so many reviews of the preparation of this critical and large workforce in recent years, and (b) why will this one be any more effective than those that rest in the existing giant ITE reviews graveyard? I’m not sure that I can provide definitive answers here but can hazard some guesses on both.

First up, let’s be clear about the Terms of Reference (ToR), given that much of the criticism of the report by its detractors focuses on the education ills the recommendations do not address (because they were not in scope).

The ToR are located here and can be summarised as:

·       Strengthen the link between performance and funding of ITE;

·       Strengthen initial teacher education (ITE) programs to deliver confident effective, classroom ready graduates;

·       Improve the quality of practical experience in teaching, and

·       Improve postgraduate initial teacher education for mid-career entrants.

 

In Priority Reform Area 1, there is a strong focus on what might be broadly termed “the science of learning” and “impactful pedagogies”.

 

Strangers to this debate might be surprised, in 2023, that a government-auspiced report needs to mandate content in ITE that prioritises high-quality knowledge about the brain and learning, and an understanding as to why some instructional approaches are more effective than others.

Sadly, this is the case however, because of the free rein (or reign, if you prefer) that university education faculties have had with respect to what they do and do not include in ITE programs. This has occurred in spite of the regulatory frameworks around ITE, because it has been possible for providers to bring their own interpretative lens to quite elastic criteria. Elasticity works in providers’ interests, as the extent to which individual providers meet AITSL requirements is in reality, dimensional, and not binary. No matter how well-intentioned, I am sure readers of this blog can see the obvious problems with the implementation hither-to of these standards in practice:

 

It's worth considering some anomalies in the education sector about the brain and its involvement in learning, and the way that pre-service teachers are prepared for making pedagogical decisions in the classroom.

For many education academics, the idea of children’s learning being based on underlying cognitive processes that interact with internal and external stimuli is almost an abhorrence. It’s fine to talk about learning as a social activity and to make vague references to “meaning making” in learning.  Reference to information processing, working memory, and cognitive load, however, are not uncommonly treated dismissively. No doubt these were absent from the ITE programs that most current education academics completed, and that perhaps makes them seem daunting and foreign. If we say we want our children to be life-long learners, however, then it is reasonable to expect our education academics to lead from the front and display curiosity about so-called “new” ideas in education. This openness is typically afforded to ideas that align with current beliefs and ideologies, regardless of their evidence-base, but resistance to evidence that is “out of paradigm” (such as that from cognitive psychology research) ranges in my experience, from passive ignoring to open hostility (of course in the middle, there are academics who are open to this evidence, and they must be given credit for their willingness to consider new paradigms in their work).

     In contrast, learning about trauma-informed teaching has rightly become a popular form of professional development for teachers in recent years. In such sessions, teachers learn about the different evolutionary levels of the human brain, their typical development and specialisation for different regulatory systems, and ways in which they are disrupted by exposure to different forms of childhood trauma (neglect and/or abuse of various forms, including vicarious trauma associated with domestic violence). I personally have delivered such sessions over the years and have attended sessions delivered by others. I have never heard a syllable of objection, anywhere, to teachers learning about the human brain and its functioning in this context. When brain development is positioned in the context of learning science, as a way of discussing everyday pedagogy, however, all hell breaks loose (as we have seen on social media in response to the release of the TEEP Report), and the folkloric memes and neuro-myths about human learning surface thick and fast:

      - All children learn differently
- We have to take account of children's learning styles
- Approaches that work in one setting can't necessarily be applied to classrooms in other settings
- Teacher-led instruction helps students pass tests but kills (select as many as you wish) - creativity / collaboration / communication / problem-solving / co-operation
- And so on.....

This reflects the longstanding absence of neuroscience in pre-service education programs, and the fact that this vacuum has been filled by what are commonly referred to as “neuro-myths”. It can be years before some teachers come to the full and disquieting realisation that these are in fact mere folklore. Once in the education water however, these myths are extremely difficult to disrupt. It is particularly pleasing, therefore, to see specific mention of the eradication of neuromyths from ITE programs in the TEEP Report. Informing teachers about basic brain science should result in two equally important outcomes: it should support them to incorporate evolving scientific findings into their teaching across their careers and should afford them some protection against the next neuromyth that tries to finds its way into their classroom.

We should not be experimenting on children, any more than medical practitioners should be experimenting on patients, or airline pilots should be experimenting on passengers.

In reality however, when responsibility for teaching reading (for example) is devolved to the individual school level (as occurs in many Australian jurisdictions), children are being subjected to unregulated, poorly designed and implemented social experiments. Children are not in a position to give or withhold consent for such experimentation and neither are their parents. This is unethical. Further, there is no community accountability for the outcomes of these experiments and when a significant proportion of children do not succeed, this is mis-attributed to non-school factors, such as parents not reading enough to their children in the pre-school years. This discourse is disempowering for all concerned, not the least of whom are teachers.

There has been a long-held position in education faculties that teachers should be allowed to teach in way(s) in which they are most comfortable and which they believe are the best match for their particular students.

Like many edu-memes, there’s an element of substance here in the sense that we need all human services practitioners (teachers, health professionals, social workers, lawyers, psychologists and so on) to adjust their practice sensitively and respectfully according to key characteristics of their end-users. Here we might consider factors such as levels of disadvantage, English-language status, disability, and trauma-exposure. It might be fair to say “one size doesn’t fit all” if by "high-quality, evidence-based instruction", we meant conducting ourselves in exactly the same way with every different class, regardless of geographical location, socio-cultural, and individual factors. But no-one does mean that. The sustained muddying of these waters has allowed many education academics and policy makers to persist with their “there’s no better ways to teach, just different choices that teachers need to make” hooey.

This is problematic because

(a)   It ignores the fact that there is a hierarchy of evidence in the learning sciences, that indicates the greater effectiveness of some pedagogical practices over others. The very idea of a “hierarchy of evidence” is anathema to some education academics, who take a relativist approach to evidence, based on the notion that there are “different ways of knowing” derived from different epistemologies. Some even go so far as to position this as a tension between science and democracy in education, seeking to steer the discourse away from classroom instruction and management to sociological and philosophical interpretations of the purpose of education. I recall hearing the now 95-year-old E.D. (Don) Hirsch in a podcast interview a couple of years ago, in which he expressed the view that education faculties in the US have been allowed to operate more like schools of theology than empirically-driven disciplines, as would be expected by taxpayers when they think of university departments. We would do well to consider this assessment in relation to Australian universities also. There is no disrespect intended here for theological schools; they are up-front about the fact that they are peddling belief systems. Students who enrol know this. However, I am not so sure that students enrolling in ITE programs in western industrialised nations know that in many cases they are entering ideology-infused echo-chambers, in which ideas, let alone evidence, from other disciplines are often unwelcome. This sounds more like religion than scholarly empiricism to me.

I would venture to suggest that most classroom teachers have only a passing interest in postmodern sociological theorising about education, but a major investment in promoting the best possible outcomes (short and long-term) for the students in their classrooms. Readers can decide for themselves (as the TEEP Panel appears to have done) whether sociological theory or learning science will be the strongest tool in the classroom teacher’s toolkit, at a population level, in these respects. I am not suggesting that an either-or choice should be made, but it is time for ITE providers to remove the milky film from their bathroom mirrors and appraise what is really staring back at them.

(b)   It ignores the hypocrisy of recent decades in which teachers have been presented with an (ironically) unbalanced diet of pre-service preparation to teach literacy. How can teachers "choose their own pedagogy", if they have only been presented with instructional models derived from discredited whole language ideas about the reading process and reading instruction? This is reminiscent of the probably apocryphal story about Henry Ford telling customers they could choose whatever colour they liked, as long as it was black. It seems that teachers are expected to do their own discovery-based learning, often self-funded, after years of watching children being failed by their classroom instruction and feeling increasingly uneasy about the likelihood that with a different instructional approach, most if not all of these children would have succeeded. Sue Knight, a Victorian school principal, has blogged about that phenomenon and the associated teacher anger and guilt here. Bear in mind too, that teachers (and tax-payers) have already paid for a degree. They should not have to then pay again to unlearn a significant amount of what was presented as fact, but was in reality, not embedded in a strong foundation of evidence. Reading instruction is an obvious case-in-point here. 

Practitioners in professions that are held in high esteem in the community have less rather than more autonomy with respect to their everyday decisions and practices. The consequences of these decisions are highly visible and accountability mechanisms apply when mistakes are made. So, it’s an own-goal when education academics pose faux questions about whether it will be the turn of medicine and engineering programs next, to be subjected to review by a “politically appointed panel” (as an aside, panels for government reviews of anything are “politically appointed” – this is just rhetoric). My response to this question is “no” – because academics in those (and other professions) have long displayed appropriate understanding of evidence and accountability and have exercised care and responsibility in the precious license granted them by the community to prepare future practitioners.

It is often argued (especially on social media) that the community should trust teachers and afford them professional autonomy with respect to how they deliver the curriculum to their students. This is problematic because

(a)   It promotes high variability, and high variability in any system is the essential ingredient for compromised quality.

(b)   It overlooks the fact that being a professional means accepting a highly constrained form of accountability – to end users, to registration bodies and to the community. This is how things roll for health professionals. As noted above, they are not permitted to “do their own thing” and face the heavy weight of accountability if they do so and adverse outcomes occur. This does not mean that such professionals exercise no autonomy. But they do need to swim between the proverbial flags with respect to applying evidence and making appropriate adjustments for the end-user in front of them. What is deemed as “appropriate” depends on a range of regulatory, cultural, and personal factors. Individual practitioners are expected to seek and gain informed consent if recommending significant deviations from evidence-based practice. No-one suggests that these are easy decisions, which is one of the reasons that such professionals are generally held in high esteem in the community. We know that they have a specialised body of knowledge, and we expect them to apply it to the highest possible standards. It will be in education’s interests in the long run, to be held to the same standards of accountability.

It's 2023 and time to find the circuit breaker on regular reviews of ITE that are not only expensive, but futile when they lead nowhere other than to an even more demoralised workforce, and no uplift in student performance.

The reality, unfortunately, is that universities have strayed a long way in recent decades from valuing and delivering knowledge-rich curricula in the science of learning more generally and the science of reading specifically (noting that how reading is conceptualised is generally a bellwether for how learning more broadly is understood). This content has been devalued alongside an elevation of sociology, critical theory and other forms of social philosophy that encourage a challenge to traditional power structures. Ironically, this has been disempowering to classroom teachers. As I have noted previously, this shift has created a Chesterton's Fence problem for ITE. Education academics removed something whose value and importance they did not appreciate, and now they are going to have difficulty re-instating this knowledge in their programs, to fulfil regulatory requirements in a short turn-around. Dr Jennifer Buckingham has written about this core challenge here.

The recommendations of the TEEP Report offer a roadmap for reforming ITE to make it fit for the vital role education plays in the social, civic, and economic fabric of Australian society. It is an opportunity for a major refresh and re-orientation of ITE, such that graduates can assume genuine expert status in their field and be ready to deal with instructional and psychosocial challenges in the classroom. It’s an opportunity to lift the status of the teaching profession, by promoting accountability in everyday instructional decisions and practices. This in turn will make education an attractive career-path for high-performing school leavers and those in other professions seeking career-transitions.

The panel has provided recommendations and a roadmap. Faculties and Schools of Education now need to bring humility and goodwill to the table. This might just be the review that tips the balance and leads us into a new world. Let’s see if we can make change happen before the next drop of pitch falls at the University of Queensland. 

Time will tell and history will judge.

 

Postscript: The title of this post is a nod to 1960s Australian folk group, The Seekers. Readers outside Australia (and younger Australian readers) might like to listen to this recording of them singing their popular hit There's a new world somewhere, they call the promised land. 

Additional commentaries on the TEEP Report can be found at these links:

Greg Ashman: Times are changing in teacher training 

Rebecca Birch: On Standards (capital S)

Jennifer Buckingham: Teacher education reform: Where will all the experts come from?

Elena Douglas: Time that teachers were taught properly too

Glenn Fahey: Education overhaul for teachers a long time coming

Ross Fox: How to help children learn: The evidence is in

Julie Hare: Schools crisis: Why a revolution might be under way

Jennifer Hewett: At last, urgent change for education seems possible

Paul Kelly: Education agenda takes aim at ‘long betrayal’

Ollie Lovell: Strong Beginnings. Reforming initial teacher education.

© Pamela Snow (2023)

The reading instruction kaleidoscope: A policy maker’s self-check

 

Image source: Alonso Reyes

Once again, in the last week, I’ve been interstate providing professional learning to mixed audiences of teachers and allied health professionals. Being “on the ground” with practitioners in this way is a great opportunity for conversations about the challenges facing schools in different states/territories and in different jurisdictions. In Australia, “jurisdictions” predominantly refers to the state/territory-based government departments of education and the diocesan-based Catholic sector. Then there’s the independent, or “private” sector, which encompasses everything from wealthy, so-called “elite” schools to small community-based schools, some of which run on the smell of the proverbial oily rag. According to the Australian Bureau of Statistics, the breakdown across sectors is roughly 65% in government schools, 19% in Catholic schools, and 16% in independent schools.

In the Catholic system, there’s no fewer than 21 education dioceses across the country. It is difficult to accurately gauge the number of independent schools, as these are sometimes counted with Catholic schools, but we do know that in Australia in 2023, we have approximately 4,042,512 students enrolled in 9,614 schools. (North American readers might be surprised by what seem like low numbers, so it should be borne in mind that the total population of Australia, at the time of writing is 25.7 million).

This introduces scope for enormous background variation in what happens in schools. In Australia, we have 8 states and territories, so in practice, this means 8 different sets of policy settings and guidelines on reading instruction, 8 different approaches to school resourcing, 8 different approaches to professional learning, 8 different approaches to supporting struggling students…..all before we begin to factor in what 21 Catholic education dioceses means for policy variation, and the room for individual variation across private schools. Consider too, that in some government sectors (e.g., Victoria) responsibility for reading instruction is (theoretically at least) devolved to individual schools. So, the possibilities for variation within and between schools are seemingly endless.

The problem here is that there cannot be 9,614 different versions of best practice. “Best practice” by definition implies a hierarchy, i.e., that some approaches are better bets than others. The hierarchy should change over time, as evidence changes, but there is going to be a hierarchy, because of findings derived from scientific research and its application in classrooms. By “scientific” here I am referring to the extent of the rigour, not the discipline or the research paradigm. Researchers from a large number of disciplines study reading (education, sociology, psychology, linguistics, speech pathology, neuroscience, and public policy) and they do so by employing a wide variety of quantitative, qualitative, and mixed methodologies.

Against this complex backdrop, it can be tempting, when discussing school transformation with respect to reading, to see this as a process that is driven by key individuals in schools, because in practical terms, that is often the case. Let’s not forget, however, to lift our eyes from the immediate dashboard, up to the horizon, and ask ourselves what role policy makers have in guiding, influencing, and in some cases, mandating practice.

Policy is defined by the Cambridge dictionary as:

“A set of ideas or a plan of what to do in particular situations that has been agreed to officially by a group of people, a business organization, a government, or a political party”.

Some of these ideas are going to be better organised, more sharply articulated and prescriptive than others. In the interests of stimulating some reflection among policy makers, I have compiled some self-assessment questions for consideration. Each of these should be responded to on an imaginary sliding 1 – 100-point scale, where the landing point reflects approximate percentage agreement with the propositions below.

I am not suggesting that there are “right” answers here, but policy that doesn't land somewhere lands nowhere, and then anything goes. I am posing these questions for policy makers to ponder because policies are written by people, no matter how de-humanised and impersonal they may appear on web-sites and in downloadable policy documents. So it is people in positions of policy influence who need to consider these questions and determine where they sit on the continuum:

 1. How important is it to you that teaching in your sector is closely informed by and aligned to the best possible currently-available research evidence?

2. How important is the combination of low variability and high quality in school reading instruction?

3. If high quality means reducing variability, how prepared are you to mandate practice in schools?

4. To what extent do you believe that policy makers can influence reading instruction in schools?

5. To what extent to do you believe that student data reflects classroom instruction?

6. To what extent do your policy settings endorse / apply / require Multi-Tiered Systems of Support (MTSS) as a conceptual framework for curriculum design, student monitoring, and intervention?

7. To what extent is teacher autonomy in selecting instructional approaches a core value in your sector?

8. How constrained are you by likely push-back against change to reading instruction in schools? (e.g., from unions, school leaders, classroom teachers, professional bodies).

9. To what extent do your policy settings rely on additional funding (e.g. from the Commonwealth government) as the driver of school change?

I do not want to be prescriptive here about what policy makers “should” think, but I do believe that policy makers should think about each of these dimensions and should identify tensions and inconsistencies in their positions. These tensions and inconsistencies can be the conceptual tangles that create downstream blockages and impede the work of highly capable and motivated players in school leadership and in classrooms. Such blockages impose the greatest educational barriers on our most disadvantaged students.

Reading instruction policy should not be an esoteric set of abstract ideas that allow a thousand flowers to bloom, without disrupting anyone’s equilibrium. Rather, reading instruction policy should be aligned with the greatest weight of evidence (not the loudest ideology), so that it provides a clear blueprint for education practitioners and is highly accountable to education end-users: students, teachers, and parents. 

(C) Pamela Snow 2023

Learning to read is not child's play

 

 Image source: Markus Spiske, Unsplash

In a recent post on the AARE Blog, Edith Cowan University academic Dr Pauline Roberts raises a  number of points about the importance of play in the early years of school and strongly pushes back on the role of formal assessment, such as NAPLAN. In fact, she goes so far as to refer to NAPLAN as an “oppressive test that is killing the magic of childhood”. That’s quite some hyperbole, and clearly doesn't stand up as an evidence-based claim.

I want to challenge the notion that our thinking needs to be polarised on devoting children’s time to play Vs explicit teaching of reading, writing, and spelling, especially in the first three years of school.  I also want to challenge the notion that play is enough, in its own right as a “pedagogy” to teach children how to read, write, and spell. For this reason, I posted a reply on the AARE site, offering some different perspectives for consideration and discussion.

My response is reproduced and, in some cases, slightly expanded here:

1.      Play is fundamentally important for all children, and we should never be talking about play and explicit teaching as an “either-or” in terms of how we allocate children’s instructional time. This is an unhelpful dichotomy. We need to make room for both, in a considered way.

For the record, play is important for the development of language skills, social cognition skills, turn-taking, empathy, self-regulation, perceptual skills, hand-eye coordination, gross motor skills, understanding cause-effect relationships, making and testing predictions, and so much more. I need no convincing of these things.

2.      Literacy (by which I mean reading, writing, and spelling) is a set of biologically secondary skills, where oral language is biologically primary. This distinction is critical to consideration of how children learn in the first three years of school and beyond. David Didau has written a succinct blogpost about the notion of biologically primary and secondary skills (drawing on the work of Professor David Geary). It can be accessed here.

As a speech-language pathologist, I am acutely aware that although oral language skills are biologically primary, that does not mean that all children acquire them at the same rate or are at the same level of proficiency on school entry. Oral language skills are not “set and forget”. Children benefit from intentional play experiences as well as explicit, teacher-led instruction to support ongoing development of language skills in the school years. I have written about this here.

3.      Play is biologically primary, but it is not necessarily the optimal way to learn biologically secondary skills, which in many cases, if not taught are also not “caught”, i.e., they go unlearnt.

We do not expect children to learn to play a musical instrument by listening to (immersing themselves in) recordings of Mozart sonatas. Why does this same logic not apply to the learning of other biologically secondary skills such as reading, writing, and spelling?

4.      Harvard cognitive psychologist Stephen Pinker has observed that humans have a language brain, but they don’t have a “reading brain”. A reading brain can be developed through explicit teaching of the ways in which speech and print map to each other. Developmentally, this is best achieved in the first three years of school. The work of French neuroscientist Stanislas Dehaene has shown that this “re-wiring” becomes harder to achieve, the more time that passes. It’s one of the reasons that low literacy skills in secondary students are harder to turn around than difficulties that are identified and responded to in the early years.

5.      When children are struggling with literacy in Year 3 (and often unfortunately beyond), what changes their trajectories is not more time spent playing, but time with tutors (if they are fortunate to be able to access them), who unlock for them the mysteries of how their writing system works.

6.      Being unable to read, write and spell is a major correlate of emotional and behavioural difficulties. I’ve been researching the school-to-prison pipeline for the last two decades and the link between low literacy, behaviour problems and school disengagement is one of the most robust and immovable findings. Again, it’s not play-based activities that youth offenders need to give them a chance at educational, vocational, and economic engagement. It’s having the mysteries of the English writing system unlocked for them – as efficiently and painlessly as possible. US APM reporter Emily Hanford has written about this here.

7.      Becoming a proficient reader (one who can efficiently and fluently lift words off the page and derive the meaning of connected text) is fun for children. They love being able to “crack the code” and apply their reading skills to printed books, screens, and environmental print. There seems to be an assumption in Dr Roberts’ post that explicit teaching and enjoyable, productive learning are mutually exclusive. They are not.

8.      Many schools are adopting a Multi-Tiered Systems of Support approach to early literacy, numeracy and positive behaviour support and are seeing pleasing shifts in both academic success and wellbeing. These schools still allow time for child-led, play-based learning, but not at the expense of explicit initial teaching of complex, biologically secondary knowledge and skills in the literacy and numeracy domains. Student success is also good for staff morale and self-efficacy on making all students proficient learners, not just some of them.

9.      We shouldn’t blame the bathroom scales if the diet isn't working. We have to go back and look at the quality of the diet and our fidelity to it. NAPLAN may be imperfect in all kinds of ways, but I am quite sure that if the data was trending upwards, calls for its demise would fade, and we would be asked to celebrate the work of teachers. We can’t have it both ways.

It’s NAPLAN data that tells us that 13.5% of Year 9 boys are not at the minimum national standard for reading. In an economy in which jobs for unskilled workers are being replaced by artificial intelligence, how are these young men going to be part of the social and economic mainstream after they (inevitably) exit school early? This, rather than the test itself, is what I think of as “high-stakes” for life-chances.

Enough with the false dichotomies and villainising of explicit teaching and progress monitoring. If anything might “save childhood”, I would put my money on supporting teachers to explicitly teach biologically secondary skills and allowing play to hold up its end in biologically primary domains in the early years. Children need both for strong personal and academic outcomes.

(C) Pamela Snow (2023)