It seems I couldn’t stay away from the whole writing game. Six weeks out of education journalism and I’m already starting a blog. The thing is, there are so many stories to tell.
I’ve moved from writing for Schools Week and FE Week, to heading up an alternative provision policy and research team at the Centre for Social Justice. This means I still get to go and visit amazing people doing amazing things in education. But instead of writing about them for a newspaper, my job is to draw on those networks to craft concrete policy suggestions to improve education for young people at risk of exclusion.
So here’s a bit about my approach, by way of introduction, and in later posts I’ll write about places and people I’ve visited, or mull over policy questions related to exclusions and alternative provision.
What’s the whole NuanceEd thing about?
I gave a talk at the national #WomenEd conference last autumn about moving beyond binary debates in education. I wanted to flag the fact that we tend to support ideas that align with our “tribe” – rather than consider every idea on its own merit.
Some cognitive psychologists argue that this very tribalism – or “us vs them” behaviour – is the evolutionary bedrock of morality, so I’m loathe to knock it too much, but it’s good to recognise that’s often what’s going on – especially in Twitter debates.
A few people have started using the #NuanceEd Twitter hashtag to encourage the kind of debate that resists tribal allegiances in favour of nuance. (Which is notoriously hard in 280 characters, so kudos to anyone who’s trying.)
Why do I care about it?
Bringing together people on opposite sides of the ideological spectrum in education is a bit of a personal mission for me. Those who knew me as Commissioning Editor at Schools Week may have seen my debate features – where I would invite, for example, the National Education Union and the Conservative Education Society to debate a contentious issue (e.g. “Should Ofsted be abolished?“) then look for points of agreement.
Broadly speaking, I tend to get four types of reaction when I tell people about this particular obsession.
The first, which I shall call the “Boris Johnson”, is an expression of disinterested incredulity or mild annoyance that I should care so much about bridging gaps. The people on the “other” side of the argument don’t know what they’re talking about, are misguided, or simply irrelevant to the status quo – so the reasoning goes.
The second, fairly or unfairly, let’s call the “Andrea Leadsom” – which is a look down one’s nose, combined with a general expression of disapproval that I should even be dabbling in such lowly matters.
Then we have the ‘Michael Gove’, during which my interlocutor’s eyes light up in acknowledgement that engagement is indeed a strategic move for on-boarding one’s opponents. (Depending on one’s degree of conviction/self-awareness this can also manifest as the ‘Undercover Evangelist’.)
Finally, the ‘Rory Stewart’ consists in nodding thoughtfully and musing that we might be able to get some good policy made, if only we could move past the tribal allegiances that divide us.
I admit, I have much more respect for the last two than the first – because they both acknowledge the importance of the tribal divisions in the education community. And while my own modus operandi falls firmly into camp Rory, I have huge respect for people whose convictions are so strong they are passionate about winning others over through respectful engagement. Whatever their position, I’m convinced every debate in education would be weaker without them.
What has it got to do with exclusions and AP?
In my new role, leading on alternative provision for a think tank, the big question becomes: once we’ve had all the rough and tumble, how do we make good policy? Crucially, how do we make policy that is so decent, so robust in the eyes of all stakeholders, that it’s not vulnerable to being swept away by a future government of a different colour? Policy churn is the enemy of progress. Just ask anyone who’s worked in the FE/vocational sector.
The challenge is to let go of any tribal, gut reactions, and make sure one’s arguments are logical, evidence-based, and produce the best outcomes for young people.
So yes, I’m obsessed with talking to people of all ideological persuasions, listening to their views, reading whatever research they wish to share – because rather than advocating for a particular group of people who give me that feel-good buzz (tempting as that is), my job is now to try and discern what will actually work.
The aim of this blog is to chart my journey meeting people who are working to improve alternative provision, reduce off-rolling/inappropriate exclusions, and solve the great policy challenges that will enable teachers to spend more time developing flourishing human beings, not just bagging exam results.
I hope you’ll join me along the way.
Footnote
The original tagline of this blog (which I’ve now changed to something more accessible…), was “The tragedy of common-sense morality in education”. It’s a reference to Moral Tribes, a book by cognitive psychologist Joshua Greene, in which he argues (among many other things) that human morality evolved to enable cooperation within groups, but not between groups. What we need in the modern world, he argues, is “something like morality, but one level up” – what he calls a “metamorality”.
While this blog is not about morality per se, I believe Greene’s ideas about why we feel such strong allegiance to our tribe – and have such strongly-rooted beliefs about the “rightness” and “wrongness” of shared beliefs – are highly relevant when we’re examining why any debate becomes polarised.
The importance of being NuanceEd 