So, in September, I started my new job as a Lead Teacher in
English at a big secondary school in South Yorkshire. I’d spent 6 years as KS3
Coordinator and a year before that as an Assessment for Learning coordinator.
As my previous school was in special measures, I’ve spent
the last few years working with experts about what makes lessons outstanding. I’ve
learning walked, coached others, mentored trainees, had others come to watch me…and
I was pretty sure I knew what made a lesson outstanding.
Loads of different activities! Kids taking ownership! Not
telling them anything! Enquiry! Group work! Questioning! Personalised learning!
I even had a little book that I referred to constantly that was basically an
ingredient list for an OfSted outstanding lesson.
Last week, my new department had its first review. The AVP (Assistant Vice Principal) was coming to see me with top set Y10 – a bright, hardworking class who had
obviously been well-taught at KS3. They’re keen, (mostly) enthusiastic, opinionated,
bright little sponges.
‘Wow,’ I thought. ‘This is a gift. I can really show off in
my first observation!’
I had it all in my plan. It was based on weaknesses I’d
noticed in their books: namely, explicitly linking poets’ structural and
language choices to context. I had structured group work prepared with roles
assigned to challenge the most able pupils. Each group was taking
responsibility for different aspects of different poems, so they’d be
responsible for others’ learning. Context information for the poems was printed
and ready. Structured questions to focus the pupils’ discussions and notes were
printed. They were bright, and I was ‘throwing them into the pit’ with the
tools to dig themselves out.
The group work was leading to an exciting S&L activity
where pupils would take on the role of a poet and answer interview questions
that linked structure/language to context and message – and the best part was:
the pupils would be writing the questions and the answers! I was so excited.
If I could have tap danced on the ceiling, I would have…but
my knee was sore. (Too much Pokemon Go.)
It was an (old) OfSted dream: pupils taking charge of their
learning. Pupils learning from pupils. Who could ask for anything more?
My AVP could.
In the lesson, it became VERY clear that the pupils were
unaccustomed to group work (structured or unstructured). The roles I’d
painstakingly created and assigned were ignored because I didn’t spend enough
time going through them. The pupils talked about the poems very generally. The
questions I’d assigned helped focus their thinking and elicited some high-level
responses, but there was a group off-task because…well, because they had the
opportunity to go off-task.
The S&L presentations the next lesson went very well,
and there was some very insightful comment about the relationship between
structure/language and context. Whether that will transfer to their written
work…I suppose I’ll find out when I take their books in on Friday.
After the observation, I met with the AVP after my lesson to
talk about implementing a new-old initiative called “Direct Instruction.” To
use an aphorism, it’s all about moving the teacher away from the “Guide from
the Side” role and back to being the “Sage on the Stage.” We took the
opportunity to go through my lesson while I was there.
Turns out what I thought was amazing…was a big waste of
time.
“What did you want them to learn by the end of your lesson?”
she asked me to begin.
“I wanted them to make better links between context and
structure and language.”
“Okay,” she said. “So you gave them what, half a lesson to
go through the context information, and-“
“And to link it to the poets’ structural and language
choices.”
“And what did they learn in your lesson that they couldn’t
have done for themselves? That they couldn’t have done with some carefully
planned homework?”
“I…well…”
“They haven’t written very many essays for a top set,” she
said.
“It’s been so full-on teaching the poems. We’re having to do
three a week to get through them.”
“And how long did you spend on getting them to link context
to structure and language?”
“Two lessons. And a half,” I admitted. “And they haven’t
written anything up about it yet, other than their notes.”
“That could have been done in half a lesson,” she said. “Give
them the context information, show them how to link it to the choices, and then
get them to practise it. Peer assess each other, and practise it again. You
check it, and then practise it again. Of course it’s taking you a week to get
through three poems.”
“But the skills!” I lamented. “They’re going to have to
analyse unseen poetry. If I just tell them everything they need to know…”
“You model the skills,” she explained. “You show them the
thought process – instruction. Then they practise it – over and over – that’s the practise phase. Then they mark
it, or you mark it, and they respond – feedback.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
I thought back to my training, back in 2004-2005. The old
AQA Literature paper had a HUGE chunk of poems, and pupils had to write about FOUR
of them in their essays. I observed the HOD with a middle set, and she taught
three poems a lesson – without a PowerPoint or fiddly card sorts or group work
or discussion. She simply opened her copy of the Anthology to a page and told
the kids what to write in their annotations. Then she spent the bulk of her
lessons teaching them exam technique. Her results were outstanding.
Maybe my AVP was on to something.
(Of course my AVP was on to something. Otherwise she wouldn’t
be AVP.)
“I have a lesson I’m planning to teach tomorrow,” I said. “Year
11 – language and structure. Their annotations are poor, but they know how to
annotate. They had already annotated their Anthologies for summer homework, so they’ve
obviously got the ability.”
“So they’re lazy?”
“Or they haven’t transferred the skills.”
I pulled up my PowerPoint.
“Oh Mel,” she said. “How many slides?”
“This one shares the objectives and outcomes. That one goes
over the AO and how much it’s worth-”
“And your kids don’t care. What do you want them to be able
to do at the end of the lesson?”
“Annotate in detail.”
“So there’s your objective. What’s your outcome?”
“To be able to annotate texts. At least five structural and five language
features with links to the question.”
And so we sat and replanned the (double) lesson. We cut more
than half of the PowerPoint slides. The structure looks like this:
1) Read the text for meaning. Identify the purpose and
audience and practise the low-mark retrieval and inference questions.
2) Self-mark the retrieval and inference questions.
3) Model – by thinking aloud – annotating the first third of
the text. Pupils add annotations to their texts.
4) Model – by questioning pupils – the next third of the
text. Pupils add annotations to their texts.
5) Pupils independently annotate the rest of the text.
6) Pupils come to the board and put an annotation each up.
7) Talk through the annotations – why the good ones are good
and what is missing from underdeveloped ones. We improve them together.
8) Pupils practise annotating a series of short texts –
three minutes each – for language and structure.
9) Pupils colour-code their annotations – one colour for
structure, one for language, and a third for links to the question. Pupils write
what they need to do more of at the bottom of the texts.
10) Pupils revisit a previous article and annotate, aiming
to meet the targets they set themselves. A slide of key terms (differentiated)
is available to jog memories.
This will lead into a lesson on Friday where we write up a
Paper 2 Structure and Language (EdExcel) question.
Every single kid had a boatload more annotations on their
pieces – a mix of structure and language – with links to the question. They’ve
done the ‘brainwork’ so the next bit will be structuring it into a coherent
answer.
Was it exciting and enthralling? No. Did I tap-dance on the
ceiling? No. Was it student-led? No. Did it have collaborative learning? No.
Did I put on a silly voice to represent my thoughts telling
me what to do? Yes. (I’m still me.)
Did the kids moan about it? Yes. (One pretended to sleep.)
Did they riot and refuse? No.
Why? Because they need the skills and the practice. The pace
was fast, and so while the content was not terribly exciting or interactive,
they had no time to complain. They could see themselves getting better at the
skills. (And I’m lucky to work in a school with a really good discipline
system.)
Did they all make progress at identifying and explaining
structural and language features?
Definitely.
And in the end…that’s what matters.
So, I’m a quick convert to Direct Instruction.
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