Maximum Bob

If you know any teachers, you will no doubt have heard them stressing and bitching about Ofsted inspections. So there I was, in my first term of on-the-job teacher training, and who should walk through the door? What were the chances of that happening?

First of all, I have to emphasise that I was not observed by an inspector this week, and in fact only glimpsed one of the Ofsted team, on the first day of the two-day inspection, the whole time they were there. Which means the effect on me was only peripheral and incidental. There was nobody stepping into the middle of one of my lessons for 20 minutes and then telling me it was “inadequate.”

Ofsted has changed in recent years. Whereas they used to give around 6 weeks’ notice, they now only give a few days (we were told last Friday, they arrived on Wednesday). Whereas they used to stay for a whole week, observing lots and lots of (whole) lessons, they now only stay for as little as two days, observing little snippets of lessons. Then they “produce” their report (as if out of a hat), and the school has 24 hours to correct any factual errors before it goes live to the nation. My suspicion is that the report is already written before they arrive, and they go around selecting the evidence to back up their findings. But what do I know? I’m just a trainee.

On paper, the new system seems as if it will be less stressful. Instead of having 6 weeks of high stress “getting the school ready” for the visit, you really don’t have any time to worry about it. And you’re only likely to be observed for 1/3 of a lesson, which is surely better? Except not, it seems. By Friday, the day after they left, it was apparent that most of the staff were suffering from sleep deprivation, having stayed up late working on lesson plans and other stuff for 6 days in a row. Because that’s what you have to do. The inspectors want a copy of your lesson plan, even if they only step in for 20 minutes. And you better have ticked all the boxes when it comes to what they expect to see.

Except, what they expect to see changes with the wind. It’s whatever the Daily Mail has been obsessing about recently. Whatever it was the last time your school was inspected, it’s something different now. Four Legs Good, Two Legs Better. War is Peace. The ignoramus who reviewed 1984 on Amazon, complaining that it was no longer relevant because the date has passed, needs to experience an Ofsted.

This year’s agenda, we might have guessed (given recent headlines) was that there is too much spoon feeding going on. The kids are being walked through their coursework and their class work, and they’re getting too much help.

Two things about this. First of all, with any system, people will work out how to exploit it. When my old university introduced semesterisation, I quickly realised that the “traditional” ways that students worked could be tweaked to make life easier. I exploited semesterisation and modularisation in order to get my First. Under the traditional system, I was only 2:1 material, but the new system suited me. So, yeah, teachers have learnt over the years how to exploit the coursework system to boost the results for their students and their school. What did you expect was going to happen? If they’re studying a Shakespeare play only in order to produce a bit of coursework, then of course the goal of the study is going to be producing the coursework and not, y’know, actually studying Shakespeare.

The text is ruthlessly pruned so that the kids only have to read the passages relevant to their coursework assignment. They spend lesson after lesson producing painful paragraph after painful paragraph, until they have a completed essay that gives them a good chance of getting at least a C.

That C is important, because the Bs and the As are always going to be Bs and As, whatever the system. Some students will get a C, but so will some who would only have scored Ds and Es under the old system. Lo and behold, results improve, the Daily Mail bleats about it, and the system gets changed, year after year, and teachers adjust to the change. And so it goes on.

My second point is that, back in the mists of time, the whole idea of having coursework as well as a final exam was so that the kind of student who cracks up in exams after doing good work all year would stand a chance of getting the grade they deserved. Coursework wasn’t supposed to be completed under controlled conditions: that’s the point. Some students, who would do worse than they should in exams, will actually do okay with their coursework: so the results improve and the Daily Mail bleats about it, and the system gets changed…

My own opinion is that, yes, modern students are spoon-fed too much. They are gormless, feckless, and lazy. They sit with their mouths open and wait for you to explain everything six times. They expect you to explain everything six times, so they don’t bother to listen for the first five. They also exploit the fact that you will explain a task half a dozen times, because it wastes five minutes of lesson time, which means they have to spend five fewer minutes doing any work. Those are the facts, that is the game, the dance. They’ve been doing it since Primary school, and they are good at it.

All the testing that has been glommed into the education system in recent years has had its effect, too. Kids are tested at the end of Year 6, and again at the end of Year 9. By the time they get into Year 8, they’ve learned (probably from older kids) that Year 8 doesn’t matter. Because there are no tests. So they piss around in Year 8. And in Year 9, they’ve fallen so far behind that it’s hard to see any difference in their attainment, when compared to the sweet little Year 7 kids who haven’t learned to be little bastards yet. Year 9 kids know only about as much as Year 7 kids, but they’re bigger, and they have hormones charging around their systems making them completely irrational into the bargain.

So what Ofsted said to us this year was, Well, yes, your teaching techniques are all spot-on, your lesson plans tick all the boxes, and you are doing all the things we told you to do the last time we came… But this time, we’ve decided to watch the kids, and we don’t think they’re really learning anything.

You think? You think that all the prescription that goes into the National Curriculum, all the boxes teachers have to tick, all the government legislation they have to comply with, might be getting in the way of people actually learning something? Well, gosh.

What did all this mean to me, the little trainee at the bottom of the heap? A few sleepless nights. It’s really hard to switch off when you can see the pressure all your colleagues are under. They basically have 20 minutes to prove their worth. As one guy said to me on Friday, “They walked into a lesson which was turning into one of the worst I’ve taught in 20 years.” The Ofsted inspectors drop little criticisms like, there should have been more debate in that lesson. Referring to the lesson they observed for 20 minutes out of 60; the lesson they left just before the teacher started a 20-minute debate.

So I was infected by the stress of my wife and other colleagues, and I was aware of the pressure the school was under, and though I was only teaching three times over the two days, I planned lessons in accordance with the best advice, hoping they would suit Ofsted if they walked into one of mine. Which they didn’t. But that’s a whole other problem. I know several teachers who prepared assiduously and were not observed: and they feel kind of aggrieved. What stake do they have in the overall rating of the school? Where do they stand on the scale from Outstanding to Inadequate?

Friday, I think both teachers and kids were tired of heavily structured (and timed) lessons. My English class was delighted that all I intended to do was read the novel we’re doing for the whole lesson. And it was a good lesson, I could tell they enjoyed it, and we got to discuss bullying, chickens and their pecking order, strategic thinking, Brer Rabbit stories, and a whole lot besides. But there was no plan, Mr Ofsted Sir. I’m afraid I winged it.

Anyway, it got to Friday night, I can’t remember ever being so tired. I fell asleep on the couch, woke up around 10 pm with a cricked neck, and put the house to bed. Then I felt so tired I could barely get my trousers off. Like all the teachers from my school, I need a weekend off. But I haven’t got one. I still need to plan my lessons for next week (whereas experienced teachers can go back to scribbling a few notes on a Departmental template); and I still need to write an assignment (due 1st December) as part of my training. Which is not to mention I am supposed to be observed by my external Tutor before the end of term.

I’m still loving this job, don’t mistake me. But that Ofsted shit is some seriously stressful stuff. And the Xmas holiday will be very welcome.