Comments Off on Next steps for the National Citizen Service and priorities for Character Education in England: thoughts on meaning and value.

Next steps for the National Citizen Service and priorities for Character Education in England: thoughts on meaning and value.

Posted December 11th, 2017 in Uncategorized by admin

I recently attended a seminar billed as: ‘Next steps for the National Citizen Service and priorities for Character Education in England’.  It was an interesting day; and here are my thoughts on it.

It’s useful to put the contemporary debate on character education in a historical context. The first thing to note is that character education has been around for a long (very long) time; indeed, this point was made by a contributor, Linda Sanders, of the Laurels School who referred to its origins in ancient Greece. The Laurels is a PACT school (Parents, Children and Teachers in Partnership) and subscribes to the PACT Charter of Educational Principles, which can be summed up by: “Qualifications are important but education is about so much more”: character education is central to their mission.

Despite character being an enduring theme in the philosophy of education, I wonder why character education is of such interest now, especially as in recent years the focus has been very much on its near neighbour, citizenship education? What happened to that?

Much depends on precisely how, and perhaps by whom, these concepts are understood – they are classic ‘floating concepts’. Contributor Matthew Bawden of the Queen Elizabeth Grammar School in Ashbourne spoke about his work discussing what these and related words mean with young people. (This could well be regarded as a philosophical education, where questions of meaning and value are central to all enquiry.) And a lot was indeed said about values. In particular, we heard the now regularly trumpeted phrase: “we need to measure what we value, rather than value what we [can] measure”, from Geoff Barton, of the Association of School and College Leaders.

It’s here we get to the heart of the matter: that there are broader philosophical (and no doubt political, and therefore democratic) questions about education per se that need dealing with, and urgently. I wonder however if the provocation for us to state ‘what education is for’ (Geoff Barton again) might actually delay us, given our seeming inability to think about education outside an instrumentalised ‘box’.

I remember Sheffield University’s Emeritus Professor of Philosophy of Education, Wilf Carr once asking me: “why do we always ask what education is for, and never what education is?” This is fertile territory, and I suspect Wilf would have acknowledged the progress we made in our attempts to answer his question. Indeed, given the testimony of many at the conference, it seems reasonable to argue that education is implicitly about drawing out character, and particularly that related to good (and democratic) citizenship, perhaps even that it is implicitly philosophical too.

These concepts become to a large degree synonymous with one another; education is defined by character, citizenship, philosophy and democracy. This takes us to a point where if schooling was transformed in the terms argued for, we might be able to do away with the very concept of ‘character education’ in the first place (a point made by John Claughton), leaving us, simply, with ‘education’.

We are left then with the concept of iteration and the fact that education has been differently iterated by successive governments: it is extraordinarily politicised. What we have now is a neoliberal iteration (Jonny Zander referenced Tania de St. Croix in making this claim). I’d say this explains the shift from citizenship education (based on learning socially and morally responsible behaviour, community involvement and developing the knowledge, skills and attitudes to be effective in public life (see the Crick Report of 1998) to a similarly socially and relationally-oriented notion of character education (v.v. honesty, humility, empathy etc.). The more recent iteration is of character in terms of resilience, perseverance, self-control and even ‘grit’ – which are undoubtedly individuated concepts.

This is where I start getting agitated. An early contributor spoke of having been attacked by a ‘moped gang’ the previous day. Several of those who followed acclaimed her presence at the conference as a “wonderful example of resilience”, evidence she’d been able to put aside the distress of her experience so quickly and get herself up and going again.

Even though she’d explicitly described how several people came to her aid, no-one sought to mention this, there was no celebration of their empathy. The social analysis focused instead on the lack of empathy of her assailants. It troubles me that this focus on an individual’s ‘resilience’ seems to disallow any reference to trauma and make it more difficult for people to admit to struggling to cope. This narrative of ‘resilience’ feels all-pervading in school today. I fear there is something missing here.

As it happened, the previous day I’d been in discussion with youth workers involved in a community-based gang intervention project. In recent weeks, one young person has died in a drug incident, several others have been stabbed and a group of three young people had been convicted of a murder. In trying to help the youth workers deal with these horrors we talked about their concern about how the wider group of young people they worked with had reacted. The day after the death of a much-liked young man had seen an outpouring of grief and an impromptu vigil. But the next day, life appeared to have ‘gone back to normal’. This was attributed to an extraordinary level of desensitisation brought about by the day-to-day realities of lives lived in a context of fear, discrimination, poverty and hopelessness.

And yet here I was, a day later, at a seminar, and beginning to wonder if this was, in fact, a display of the very resilience so many seemed keen to see in our youth. Days on, even contemplating this makes me feel ill. When (and why?) did we allow ourselves to re-frame a lack of empathy – a kind of numbing to bad stuff – as ‘resilience’?

This brings me back to my theme of ‘meaning and value’ when it comes to character education. And it confirms my view that in whatever age we live and work in, this process of politicised iteration and re-iteration has a profound effect. The question is can we spot these effects, understand, and critique them?

This takes me to that other big theme of the day: youth work, and what that is. Arguably, youth work has been a victim of this process of iteration, and re-iteration, more than education. It seems reasonable to argue (and the heated discussion about governmental spending priorities at the seminar seemed to bear this out) that the NCS is the new iteration of youth work. This sits in contradiction with the commonly-held claim that the NCS is something different from, albeit complementary to, youth work. Witness the testimony of Lord Ashton of Hyde, in his role as the representative of the Department of Culture, Media and Sport (DCMS) in response to questions about the need for youth services. His constant invocation of the NCS seems to suggest that youth work is now understood (iterated as) something structured, significantly prescribed, relatively free from the democratic credentials youth work has had for a long time.

Perhaps hope comes in the form of ‘constructive ambiguity’, lauded as the means by which a diverse range of positions can coalesce. See the hard-won recent initial agreement on Brexit: I’m instinctively drawn to this kind of politics, that is, with one important caveat: that there is a parallel agreement to invest time and energy in a dialogue about meaning and value. A lived commitment to the process of democracy is so often lost in a world increasingly obsessed by outcomes.

My own view is that youth work has spoken in the past, and needs to speak again, not just in terms of clarifying what it is but as an essential provocation to the wider debate about what education is more generally.

Comments Off on A process project: thoughts on youth work, needs, outcomes, values and evaluation

A process project: thoughts on youth work, needs, outcomes, values and evaluation

Posted July 28th, 2017 in Uncategorized by admin


Youth workers often say they aspire to ‘meet the needs of young people’. Likewise, it’s common to hear: ‘we want to ensure young people’s voices are heard’, ‘empower young people’, and ‘keep young people at the core of the work’. Few involved in youth work would disagree. And yet it’s common also to hear talk of having the responsibility for ‘developing and implementing a means to assess [usually ‘measure’] outcomes’, typically, through some kind of ‘Outcomes Framework’. And then there is the responsibility to ‘identify and share good practice’, although we are typically unsure if this is the same or different from ‘evidence-based practice’.

An exploration of the potential conflicts and tensions between these various positions

Simply put, there is the basic question of who should determine ‘the needs of young people’ in youth work. Taking into account the strongly held view that young people’s voices should be heard, and that youth work is young person-centred, and aims to empower those engaged in it, the question of how these needs should be determined seems, interestingly, to provide an answer to the aforementioned question of who should determine needs. Think ‘share holder’ or ‘stakeholder’. It seems reasonable to say there are several voices that should be heard when discussing young people’s needs, even if young people’s views should be centremost. Which further informs answers to our question of how these needs should be determined; only a dialogue between these different parties will do. And yet, many argue that youth work – fundamentally – exists at the level of individuals and the groups they are a part of (as well as the wider structural entities that are involved with it, such as local authorities, voluntary organisations and other funders). This implies extraordinary diversity at the local level and the impossibility of measuring ‘like for like in youth work’.

We are left then with, what might be called, the challenge of process. And a further question as to the veracity of ‘evidence-based’ conceptualisations of ‘good practice’: if the process matters so much (in the sense of what happens at this local level) can it ever be said a template exists for what good practice looks like beyond a description of the processes used? As such, the notion of ‘evidence-based practice’ starts to look at odds with youth work’s participative culture. Likewise, we might doubt the idea that we can know definitively the outcomes of our work, that is, before it begins. In sum, if youth work is to be substantively (if not entirely) informed by the views of young people (and we appreciate these views are likely to change throughout the process of it) it cannot be true that outcomes can be known in advance.

This casts doubt also on whether it’s reasonable for the evidence of what worked in the past with one individual, or one group, to determine what happens in the future when working with other young people. Nonetheless, it does seem reasonable that this evidence could, and should, inform our thinking and professional judgement as to how we might approach our work in the future. It should arouse suggestions (Dewey, 1930: 186), but surely not dictate them. It is in thinking critically about what experience shows that quality is enhanced. Accordingly, the commitment to hearing young people’s voices and placing them at the ‘core’ of decision-making demands the conceptualisation of outcomes as, simplistically, the things that ‘come out’. The wider commitment to youth work as a process of empowerment relies on this, and it becomes tenable only when outcomes are ‘captured’, as they occur, rather than formulated as pre-determined goals – think of documenting the process, and what, if anything, comes out.

Two mechanisms give rise to the seductive potential that outcomes can be reasonably pre-determined. The first comes from the contractual imperative: where agencies are commissioned to ‘deliver’ youth work. As in all contracts, the commissioning agency demands to know what they are getting for their money – and within particular timescales. Here, youth work and its relationships become temporally-bound and focussed on products rather than processes. Secondly, the belief that the outcomes of youth work can be determined in advance lends itself to solving the evaluation conundrum; it becomes a simple matter of judging whether the ‘provider’ delivers the outcomes asked of them. But, it’s not as easy as this. Not that aims don’t matter; they do. But aims need to be understood as different from targets to be achieved. Aims, by definition, are primarily informed by values, such as the commitment to autonomy and empowerment. Whilst they might sculpt methods, aims should not dictate the specificity of the work done; that is, the precise terms of the outcomes ‘to be arrived at’.

Finally, there are wider but no less important philosophical questions, not least about the nature of education itself – of which youth work must surely be a form. d’Agnese (2015:8), following Dewey (1929), reminds us that “if we could predict in advance the outcomes of education, we would not have education”. Which reminds us again that values and processes matter. Therein, in thinking about values, some clarity emerges. If youth work takes place, to all intents and purposes, in the context of voluntary association, then it matters greatly that it is of value to young people. Which suggests some scepticism is needed about the discourse of measurement, and an appreciation of its limitations. Young people do not measure youth work; they value it. Youth-centred documentary processes, based on critical reflective thinking, that chart (‘capture’, if you like) the process of youth work, and its outcomes, may be all that remains – but they are no less important (and valuable) because of this.

Comments Off on Narrowing the Gap: but will the elephant in the room escape?

Narrowing the Gap: but will the elephant in the room escape?

Posted December 30th, 2015 in Uncategorized by admin

I spent some time recently with a researcher from Teach First who told me this was a charity “dedicated to improving education for disadvantaged young people”. With an aim like this, I was only too happy to give up a couple of hours to answer his questions. Naturally, I did a bit of homework in advance. Teach First’s home page gets straight to the point: “How much you achieve in life should not be determined by how much your parents earn. Yet in the UK it usually is.” In two sentences, both an extraordinary moral and ethical declaration, and the harsh reality. But wait; there are more of these language dualisms: “This isn’t a tale to be proud of. In the UK, the link between low socio-economic background and poor educational attainment is greater than in almost any other developed country.” And yet no mention that this is the 5th richest country in the world, but also, according to research, the most unequal in the EU. But then Teach First’s mission is “to end inequality in education by building a community of exceptional leaders who create change within classrooms, schools and across society.” Not to end inequality per se.

I’d been asked to comment on young people’s experiences, which I took to mean ‘of life’. And on the challenges they face, and the opportunities they have or don’t have. So I was more than a little confused; might not discussion of educational inequalities demand at least some thought about wider circumstances? In my correspondence prior to the interview it had been acknowledged I had a background in youth and community work, rather than teaching, and that this would constitute ‘a different angle’. Which, for me at least, demands engagement with this context. Put another way, maybe I’m not the easiest person to interview. But then the issues we were discussing don’t seem to be easy ones to resolve either.

I’m not clueless about schools; I’ve been a governor in two for years now. And my academic works is as much about formal education as the informal and community dimensions I’m more typically associated with. This is because the educational inequality I too am interested in manifests itself everywhere. In both schools I am Pupil Premium Governor, with responsibility for oversight, so I like to think I know a bit about what happens both within and without school. And that I can contribute to the debate about the new educational agenda of ‘narrowing the gap’.

‘Narrowing the gap’ started life as ‘closing the achievement gap’. I’m not sure when or why it morphed beyond appreciating that the education policy meisters have a Foucauldian eye for the power of language. Witness the extraordinary frequency of subtle changes to the narrative, most recently exemplified by the Chief Inspector of Schools’ Christmas message to us governors. Read this carefully and you’ll see what I’m talking about.

It was in 2013 that David Laws, the Schools Minister of the then coalition government, delivered his ‘Closing the achievement gap’ speech to the Association of School and College Leaders. It laid the foundations for the ‘narrowing the gap’ agenda, most noticeably in the form of a Pupil Premium, extra money allocated to schools with the most disadvantaged pupils. In his speech Laws said: “It is unacceptable that in our country there is such an enormous gap between the life chances of children from poor backgrounds and other children.” This triggered a memory of studying The Newsom Report, which had a special resonance for me not just because of its subject matter but because it was published in the year of my birth (more than 50 years ago). It seemed entirely reasonable to mention this to my researcher friend, that we were engaged in debate about a long-standing and apparently intractable problem.

The report, entitled ‘Half our Future’, articulated similar sentiments to Laws, opprobrium at the injustice of it all. But it differed in perspective, no doubt being a product of its age: “Our terms of reference direct us to enquire into the education of pupils of ‘average’ and ‘less-than-average’ ability. If those words have any precise meaning at all, they must refer to at least half the children in the country – every other pupil in school, every other child at home.”

Which has to be an invitation to repeat that now famous anecdote from Michael Gove in which he expressed his desire that “all schools be as good as the best” or “better than average”; a point he was quizzed on by the chair of the Education Select Committee: “If ‘good’ requires pupil performance to exceed the national average, and if all schools must be good, how is this mathematically possible?”

I digress. Newsom wrote: “The point is, could many people, with the right educational help, achieve still more? If they could, then in human justice and in economic self-interest we ought, as a country, to provide that help.” This question is uncannily and tragically similar to that posed today. So why have we struggled to find answers? One clue might be in what’s not said; what wasn’t said then, and what’s not said now. In the three hundred page of Newsom ‘poverty’ is mentioned only once: “There is no doubt at all about the need for a good deal of social work in connection with the pupils. Problems of poverty, health and delinquency are involved. Nearly twice as many fourth year pupils get free dinners as in modern schools as a whole.” I’ll leave you to guess how many times Laws used the word.

Nonetheless, we might consider it progress that resources have been identified, in the form of the Pupil Premium, to try to do something about this achievement gap. There is certainly some interesting work going on and lots of people working hard to make a difference. But it will be a while yet before we have any evidence, particularly as so much in education needs time to bear fruit, or not, as the case may be.

In the meantime it might be worth reflecting on programmes around the world that target the wider context, that are unafraid to engage with the poverty agenda. Of note is Bolsa Família, a radical initiative of the Brazilian government to counteract the now indisputable social ills generated by poverty and inequality. The Bolsa Família, or ‘Family Grant’, is radical in that it dispenses with a history of providing goods and services to the poor.  It does something pretty much unheard of: it simply hands out money.

Critics talked of creating dependency, facilitating idleness. But there have been a wide range of social benefits, including those educational. The number of children working rather than going to school has fallen by 14 percent. School attendance in the country’s poorest regions has improved by the same. Those receiving the grant are twice as likely to graduate from school compared with poor children outside the programme. The national literacy rate has risen.

In addition, there have been myriad unanticipated outcomes that have transformed the lives of many of the country’s poorest people. By giving the grant to women increased numbers report having exclusive authority over contraception; they have been empowered. They, and many others benefiting from the grant, have a new sense of agency. Rather than feeling stigmatized through dependency, three-quarters said they were proud to be enrolled in the programme because it helped them feed and clothe their children properly without having to beg. Bolsa Família has helped them “lead more autonomous and dignified lives.” They express increased faith in their country’s democracy.

But let me inject a note of caution, based on what happened in relation to another programme for which positive educational outcomes were attributed. In Kenya, separate trials examined the benefits of giving pupils more books, teachers new technologies, and children de-worming tablets. The World Health Organisation reported no impact from the first two but enthusiastically that: “Regular deworming contributes to good health and nutrition for children of school age, which in turn leads to increased enrolment and attendance, reduced class repetition, and increased educational attainment. The most disadvantaged children – such as girls and the poor – often suffer most from ill health and malnutrition, and gain the most benefit from deworming.” And yet, these claims have since been rejected; new analysis claims the conclusions drawn were based on errors.

Who to believe?

It seems the ‘solutions’ to educational and wider inequalities will forever be contested, particularly by vested interests. And that what constitutes ‘evidence’ is a political battleground. What Bolsa Família teaches us is that a moral and ethical argument must be made also. In this case for redistributive policies. Sure, the evidence is important (it helps that Bolsa Família has plenty of that). But this is never enough. What really seems to matter is making these policies more palatable to those inclined to demonise the poor. Bolsa Família does both; it works and it has garnered support.

Time will tell if the Citizen’s or Basic income being trialled most recently in Finland can also tick both boxes. But the genie appears out of the bottle in terms of the benefits of redistribution, both evidentially and morally. Perhaps now is the time for further bold experiments? Like handing over the Pupil Premium directly to families. Might this get us closer to achieving the eternal aim of narrowing the gap? It might be worth a try.

There are some obvious conclusions. As with so many things, what’s needed is something more complex. Thinking schools have all the answers is one thing, and clearly misguided. But believing they have no role to play is just as bad. The question then turns to something even more profound; what kind of education will help shape a society where these wider inequalities will not be tolerated in the first place?