The children in our Y1 classrooms should rule the world, argues Jonathan Lear. As they get older, they’ll learn to play it safe, just like their teachers...
Have you ever asked a room full of adults for a volunteer? Perhaps you’ve run a staff meeting, planned a whole range of interactive activities, and tried to make it as engaging as possible so staff can’t help but fall in love with your new assessment policy. Then you reach the part where you need a couple of people to come to the front and help really hammer home your point. As soon as the request rolls off your tongue, you realise you’re in trouble. Stony silence descends on the room, and all eyes immediately start exploring the suddenly fascinating floor.
If you’re lucky, a relatively new member of the leadership team will put themselves forward to prove that, although they’re management, they can still be fun. Beyond that, you know that anyone else who steps up is doing so reluctantly, with a growing sense of resentment – not the ideal climate for the finale of your presentation.
There’s no getting away from the fact that the majority of us prefer the quiet life. If someone else wants to put themselves forward, then far be it from us to get in the way. But if the example above were transferred to a Y1 classroom, if we ditched our adults for a room full of fiveyear- olds, there would be an entirely different outcome. The volunteer’s task is completely irrelevant. “I’m going to need someone to tidy the bookcase.” Sea of hands. “Is there anyone who’d like to come to the front and wear this hat?” Sea of hands. “Is there anyone who wouldn’t mind cleaning the toilets?” Sea of hands.
Five-year-olds aren’t bothered about what they’re volunteering for, they’re just desperate be involved. To some, this bravery might seem foolish; it’s definitely safer sitting and watching others’ possible humiliation. But who’s having the most fun? Sadly, the desire to join in, have a go, and take risks is gradually lost as children move through school and then beyond into the world of work.
In a recent article in the Daily Telegraph, the former head of the Civil Service, Gus O’Donnell, spoke about the need for us all to take more risks, because taking risks means having a grown up attitude to failure. He was half right – we do need to take more risks, but it’s not a grown up attitude we need; it’s a childlike one. If we could help our young children keep hold of their innate bravery, there would be no limit to what they could achieve.
So where does it go wrong? Fortunately, there aren’t many teachers out there who actively want to prevent children
from being brave, risk-taking learners. We are, however, the victims of an education system that does. If we take foundation stage out of the equation, the rest of school is a slow and steady progression towards increasingly formal education. Whilst some of this might be unavoidable – the system is what it is, and our children will still need to sit exams and do well – there’s also the desire on our part to ensure children will be successful. Learning is modelled, scaffolded and supported, with mini plenaries dotted throughout to check children’s understanding. This need for the children to succeed is heightened by the new Ofsted requirement about all children making progress at all times. And this kind of pressure can do funny things to a teacher.
Taking the easy option
I bet there are plenty of us out there who have had an observation coming up and thought to themselves, right, I need something that’s easy to teach, and it’s got to be something the kids will ‘get’. All of us want to do well, and the last thing we want while being observed are lots of ‘stuck’ children needing help – we do everything possible to make sure they can accomplish the task at hand because this means it will have been a ‘successful’ lesson. This kind of low stress, low challenge lesson might be good for our nerves, but it’s not particularly good for our children, and it can also become a habit that is difficult to break.
One of the main reasons children lose their ability to take risks is that we’ve already lost ours. How much of our teaching is safe? How many of the lessons we plan give children the opportunity to explore learning outside of their comfort zone? If we’re honest, it’s probably not a huge amount. Encouraging the children to take risks means walking the walk ourselves. In science, how about trying an investigation where we genuinely don’t know the outcome? In history, what if you rang the local paper to tell them about an amazing, once-in-alifetime event happening in a fortnight, then confess to the kids that you haven’t planned a thing, and you haven’t got a clue what to do? In maths, why not celebrate being stuck rather than being worried about it? It’s strange, but 10- year-olds spend an awful lot more time being stuck than five-year-olds. Five-year-olds don’t really get stuck, they just have a go. It might not always be right, but their courageousness carries them through.
Risk is not for everyone, but if you’re feeling brave, embrace your inner five-year-old, and remember the words of Sir Winston Churchill: “Failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts.”
FIVE WAYS TO DEVELOP BRAVERY
1 LEAVE THE CLASSROOM
Why not ditch the worksheet in favour of some outdoor learning? Did you know that you can calculate the age of a tree without cutting it down? It’s something to do with circumference, pi, and a growth rate chart. Brilliant fun. And when you’ve done it for trees, try measuring your friend’s head to see if it’ll work for humans!
2 DITCH TECHNOLOGY
What would happen if we didn’t use our interactive whiteboards for a day, or even (deep breaths) a week? Technology can be great, but there are other ways to learn.
3 STOP TEACHING
Could you plan a lesson where you don’t teach anything? What would children learn? How would they learn? How would it be assessed?
4 BAN WRITING
What about a day or week with no writing or recording of any kind? How would the children show their learning? How would you document and assess their learning? How would you prevent your headteacher from panicking and/or sacking you?
5 GO ON HOLIDAY
Tell the children that on Friday, you’re taking a well-deserved day off. What could they learn without you? Help them to plan their lessons and then, come Friday, pitch your tent in a quiet corner of the classroom, sit back with a flask and read a good book. Bliss.
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