We need to talk

If children are already dropping out of whole-class conversations, it’s important to choose your words carefully, says Mick Waters..

A month into the new school year and we are all getting into a rhythm. Gone are the carefree days of summer as school routines become established once again. Some things are going well; some are a bit irritating. Some days fly by; others seem to drag. Some lessons go with a buzz… and some are toil.

If you read the first paragraph of this article and reflected on the start of your own year, maybe you could read it again, seeing it from a child’s perspective. Throughout August, primary- aged children were, to some degree, free of routine and, as September approached, most were looking forward to the new school year. The prospect of a ‘fresh start’, often with a new teacher, gives the majority, whatever their experience to date, the belief that ‘it’s all going to be all right this year’.

A month in and the majority are living the dream. There are some, though, who wonder why they got excited and realise that history is repeating itself. It being a long way to July, they start to give up: they tend to do less and get slower – and, if we are not quick to act, they start to opt out. They are not necessarily naughty but, while in the classroom, they elect to play truant in their minds.

In any primary classroom, there are children who tend not to take part in that most common of teaching approaches: the whole-class discussion. When the teacher says, “Who can tell me..?”, or “Who knows..?” they are the ones who simply think, “I don’t do this bit”. Gradually, fewer and fewer children offer to join in and a handful of pupils dominate.

Reasonably, the teacher thinks she has to correct this situation by thinking of ways to involve more of the class. Random answer generators come into play and lots are drawn to see who will answer each question. Children see the fairness, but it needs careful management: the pressure on the teacher to ask challenging questions means there might be a tendency to put learners on the spot.

Challenge is a strange concept; we need to think a challenge can be met, otherwise it is too daunting and we react with ‘fight or flight’. The over-demanding question met with ‘flight’ creates silent embarrassment and the feeling that this joining in lark is a non-starter. The ‘fight’ reaction to challenge, in the form of a question, is to offer an absolutely stupid answer, one at which all the onlookers will laugh. The embarrassment felt by the child jumps to the teacher, and she either fights by getting angry or takes flight, vowing never to put that child on the spot again. The effort to get children to join in ends up having the opposite effect.

Teacher talk is in itself fascinating. Surely it is only in classrooms that people ask others questions to which they already know the answer? It rarely happens in real life.

Most children realise that a teacher is not trying to have a normal conversation when she asks a question; they know it is a checking-up process. There will be a minority, though – possibly 15 per cent of children – who think, “This doesn’t make sense”. These are the ones who do not have parents who check their ability to name pieces of cutlery, or count the steps, or identify colours just for the sake of it. When the infant runs in and says, “I’ve got new shoes!” the teacher’s response of “How smart you are. What colour are they?” might provoke the astonished comeback, “You don’t know colours at your age?”.

The teacher who believes a plenary is expected in order to demonstrate progress, who calls the class together every 30 minutes to ask, “Now, who can tell me what we have been learning for the last half an hour?” might reasonable be met with the silent child pondering, ‘Do you have short term memory loss? You planned it, prepared it and presented it…’

Unless we look closely at teacher talk and the lovely, absurd and sometimes uncomfortable discourse of the classroom, those children who ‘don’t get it’ might gradually decide to opt out. After a while, their non-participation risks being seen as inability. (Some of those techniques that the national literacy strategy promoted to encourage children to talk might be worth revisiting.) Oracy is writ large in the new national curriculum and articulacy is at the root of success…in school and in life.

Enjoy the year, enjoy the children. And do try to get them all talking.

About the author

Mick Waters is professor of education at Wolverhampton University. The issues in this article are addressed in his recent book, Thinking Allowed on Schooling