The Sunday Times, Uncategorized

February 22nd, 2009

I’ll spell it out: if children can’t read, lives are ruined

This country’s education system is a betrayal of this country’s children. It blunts their intelligence, narrows their perspectives and blasts their future prospects. How often does that need to be said? Of course it is not universally true; many children defy the system, one way or another. But the point is that the system is bad. If the word “institutionally” means anything, this country’s education system is institutionally unfit for purpose. Those who assume that I am exaggerating, as columnists do, should consider the interim report published last week by the Cambridge Primary Review, the biggest independent inquiry into state primary school education in England for 40 years, led by Professor Robin Alexander. After three years of exhaustive research by his team, he says “our argument is that [primary school children’s] education, and to some degree their lives, are impoverished if they have received an education that is so fundamentally deficient”. At last a knight in shining educational armour seems to have come galloping over the hill. His review finds that the curriculum has been politicised, that the education department and the Qualifications and Curriculum Authority have been excessively prescriptive in their micro-management of schools, that their focus on “literacy” and numeracy and testing has squeezed out other learning, and that children are being denied a broad and rich curriculum – with history, geography, music, art and drama the greatest losses. Alexander insists the arts and humanities “help to hold the line between civilisation and philistinism” but “in these severely utilitarian and philistine times” this argument “no longer cuts much ice”. Fundamentally deficient. Impoverished. That’s telling them. The government is understandably furious. However, the professor’s armour is not quite so spectacularly shining as it might be. I feel he is missing some centrally important points. Of course we should return, as he says, to a broad, rich, varied curriculum tailored to the individual child and its ability. Of course it’s wrong to harry children though a narrow and painful thicket of pointless and politicised exams. Of course it is a tragedy that we are becoming a nation of philistines. However, there is no point in proposing a wide and imaginative course of study for children who cannot read well. A child who cannot read well cannot learn. He or she cannot possibly share the riches of a wide education or the freedom of the literate mind to teach and enrich itself when others can’t or won’t. And the reason our schools fail so badly, the reason teachers teach narrowly to the dubious “literacy” tests, is that they have failed to teach little children to read properly in the first place. That failure is what originally prompted all the hated micro-management from both political parties. Politicians just wanted to stop the rot in schools. The cure – extreme interference and its unintended evil consequences – may have proved to be as bad as the condition, but both Conservative and Labour governments had good intentions. The Conservatives’ national curriculum and league tables and then new Labour’s minute-by-minute intrusion into every school and into every teacher’s head were efforts to highlight and to resist the mysterious forces of educational failure. These forces have somehow defeated the government’s best intentions. Children are still leaving their primary schools without being able to read properly, which means they are ineducable. There is constant dispute about figures and definitions, but it’s now commonly agreed that 20% of children leave primary school unable to read at the appropriate level for their age and that in many inner-city problem schools up to 40% of children arrive at 11 with a reading age of less than nine. It’s like putting a child who can’t swim into the deep end of a pool. Those who can’t swim, sink, as we see. Evidence that I am not exaggerating comes, again, from an earlier report put out under the umbrella of Alexander’s Primary Review. In 2007 a study questioned whether the “massive investment” in national literacy and numeracy strategies for primary schools had produced value for money by raising standards. Professor Peter Tymms and Dr Christine Merrell, two researchers at Durham University, argued that the rise in standards claimed by the authorities could simply be the result of teachers tailoring their teaching to the test. Worse still, the study suggested the results of the tests were often wrong anyway. As many as one in three primary school 11-year-olds (about 200,000 children) may have been awarded the wrong grade in their all-important maths and English national curriculum tests. This undermines the government’s claims that standards in the three Rs have gone up. To return to the central question, why do so many children read so little and so badly, there are some glaringly obvious answers. First of all they are not being taught to read – to decode – words in the quickest, most efficient, most teacher-proof way. Every child, apart from a minuscule minority with serious disabilities, can learn to decode words through any good system of synthetic phonics – CAT spells cat. The huge resistance to this idea in the educational establishment is a constant mystery to me. Another reason for this failure is that teachers are all too often not taught in their training how to teach children to read. There are also some very poor teachers around. And as any head teacher knows, it takes a lot of time, courage, persistence, money and support from the LEA to sack them: there’s every incentive to leave a bad teacher in place. But it takes only one bad primary school teacher to ruin a child’s chances for life. Last week the head of admissions at Cambridge University said very publicly that state school children are being handicapped academically by poor-quality teachers. Finally, the government’s many reading schemes are rather dubious. And the reason, once again, is the deeply ingrained resistance at all levels in the education world to phonics. The original national literacy scheme, with its literacy hour, was undermined from the start by those determined to use several different reading systems as well as phonics. The Every Child a Reader scheme and its vastly expensive Reading Recovery initiative (£5,000 per child per year) are very questionable. What’s needed is a radical review of all these schemes. Until then, wishes for educational utopia will remain just that.

The Sunday Times, Uncategorized

February 1st, 2009

Watch out, quangocrats – our patience is running out

Beware the fury of a patient man, as the poet said. The British are patient, surprisingly so. We are slow to fury, and slow to public demonstrations of rage, unlike the French, who are quick to man and woman the barricades, as we saw last week in the mass demonstrations all across France. But we too are capable in the end of fury, as we also saw here last week, and when British patience is finally thoroughly exhausted, and when British fury is really aroused, I suspect we will see widespread public unrest. The author of those famous words about the fury of the patient was John Dryden, writing only 30 years after the end of the English civil war; he saw the beginning of it as a young boy of 11. Dryden’s warning that rage which has overcome years of patient repression will then burst out with particular fury makes all too much sense. Last week hundreds of workers all across the UK rallied together in demonstrations, sympathy strikes and walkouts. They were protesting about the employment of foreign workers at an oil refinery in Lincolnshire, and about the betrayal of Gordon Brown’s empty and dishonest promise: “British jobs for British workers”. Angry faces appeared on television, talking with a rage that I haven’t seen for 30 years. Public sympathy for these workers may be muted, even though many other people are now afraid for their jobs. Fellow feeling is undermined by the fact that it is not illegal to employ EU workers here, that many British workers get employment abroad, that protectionism is not good for the economy and that an employer has a right within the law to make the best contract with the best workers, painful though that may be to some. However, even though this uprising has failed to arouse much public indignation, except among those closely concerned, there are other things that certainly will. Sooner or later these things will exhaust the patience of great masses of people, and rouse them to profound anger. I don’t mean the repeated lies of the government, or the folly of a prime minister who appears not to understand the destruction he has brought upon us, or the shameless greed of the bankers who have ruined us, or the corruption of parliament, the profligacy of Eurocrats, the rape of the voting system, though there is enough of it about to make us all feel sick with fury. Those things don’t exactly have a great unifying theme, a clear indication of Them and Us. The people responsible are all over the place; they don’t have an easily identified status, occupation and address at which to direct united public fury. There is one group that does, however. It is the vast and growing army of state sector workers – public servants, civil servants, whatever you call them: I mean the actual providers and arrangers of public services. You can find them in any town hall or local authority premises and in the bloated offices of quangos. Of course, I know that some of them are indispensable and truly inspiring and we are all grateful to them – good nurses, social workers, doctors, teachers and good administrators as well. Others are pretty much good enough, and conscientious. But there are all too many who are not. Whoever they are, however, and whatever they do, these public servants are distinguished by three facts, unique (when united) to them: first, the taxpayer pays for them, second, their jobs and their pensions are protected (by the rest of us) and third, it’s extremely difficult, if not impossible, to sack them. Some of them do crucially important things, and some of them do those important things well; but many of them do important things badly, and a lot of them do things that do not need to be done at all, least of all at public expense, and with impunity. Think of those transgender sexual inclusion outreach workers, that potato promotion quango and the irresponsible mentality that promotes such waste. Predicting public unrest is usually best avoided. All the same, I’d like to put a case in which one might well expect it. (Supporting evidence available upon request, or indeed upon regularly following the news or looking at the TaxPayers’ Alliance website.) If, for example, very large numbers of state sector people are indeed doing wasteful non-jobs, which we don’t want to pay anyone for doing; if the government keeps on creating these jobs despite constant, informed protest; if so many state sector people are so deeply, institutionally incompetent and yet very rarely face the consequences of their failure and indeed can sue for large payoffs (as in the case of Baby P in Haringey); if they get secure pensions and security of employment; if they can take early retirement; if they do regularly take such very early retirement on full pensions; if more and more of them are getting as good as or better pay than private sector workers; if our earnings will soon be very highly taxed to pay for public sector pensions; if (unlike public sectors workers) we are forced to carry on working, in any job we can get, by the disappearance of our pensions and savings; if therefore our retirements will be impoverished while theirs are safe; if they in their swollen numbers vote for the government that hires and backs them, depriving us of political redress; and, finally, if we are in the beginning of a very serious long-term recession, and Britain faces the highest debt in Europe as a result of throwing many billions at the public sector, without very much result, then what would you expect? A sense of Them and Us? A sense of institutionalised injustice? A sense of something wholly unacceptable? The kind of thing that drives a patient man or woman to fury? I think so. Let’s not exaggerate. This is not Zimbabwe or even Italy. This is a free and and relatively honest country. It is true that we are fast slipping down all the international league tables of things that matter, but ours is still a good country. However, non-jobs and make-work in our state sector are a terrifying waste of public money, and, worse than that, they lead to more of the same. Those who deny this should look carefully into all the “positions” that any town hall or any quango is filling or creating. I can hardly believe the point still needs arguing. These things are a national threat in themselves. What’s more is that the whole state sector is institutionally incompetent and institutionally unfair to the rest of us. We may not continue to be patient about it. Those who impose it upon us and those who are part of it should beware.

The Sunday Times, Uncategorized

January 25th, 2009

Our best hope is that Barack Obama can resist the rabble-rousers

Life is blighted by the tyranny of the urgent over the important, as someone said. That is why, at the time of Barack Obama’s global triumph in Washington, I wasn’t watching the proceedings live on television but dealing with some urgent minor errands. It was very annoying, particularly when someone asked me why I wasn’t sitting enraptured in front of a television somewhere. Without thinking I replied that it wasn’t really important anyway: I was sick and tired of all the hoopla. Then I realised I wasn’t just being irritable: I really meant it. I don’t mean that I am sick and tired of Obama. On the day when he was elected as the future president – more than 11 weeks ago now – I felt just as much joy as many millions of other people. The happiness of that moment hasn’t faded, nor has the reminder that politics can occasionally throw up someone who appears to be truly inspiring. What has changed is that the public good feeling has, one way and another, been whipped up, day after day, into an excess of feeling. Excessive emotion, particularly the inflated emotion of the crowd, is something that should always be distrusted, especially in politics; there are plenty of sombre historical reasons for such misgivings. By the time Obama’s inauguration day had finally arrived, these feelings had in many places reached a pitch that was almost hysterical. Quite apart from the razzmatazz all over the United States, people in this country had been behaving for days as if we were about to witness the second coming. The hysteria was particularly marked among journalists and commentators, who were gripped by Obama mania. Those who couldn’t actually persuade their bosses to send them to Washington wrote think pieces in the tones of humble acolytes in a sect. Those who did get to America seemed to think the British public really needed to be exposed to hour upon hour of excited, repeated, boring, trivial detail; it was almost pathological. And squillions watched. At the same time as losing their hearts to Obama, masses of people seemed to be losing their heads. The media have played an enormous part in this; it is dangerous. It is true that some people have publicly and privately pointed out that Obama, however remarkable, cannot walk on water and it is a mistake to encourage any expectation that he can. But that hasn’t stopped the hyperinflation of mass expectation and mass feeling, both over there and over here. There seems to be in the darker recesses of the human pysche a constant yearning for hero worship. No ordinary mortal, however exceptional, can meet the requirements that mass adulation makes of a hero, and when he hesitates or fails, the risk is that the masses will turn to equally irrational extremes of anger and disappointment. Such worship is likely to turn a person’s head, too, and tempt him to imagine that perhaps he might walk on water and should be treated accordingly. If anyone can resist – and perhaps restrain – such mass adulation, it is probably Obama. No blame attaches to him, I believe. His inauguration speech struck me as a heroic model of self-restraint. Although Obama can speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and has given speeches of heart-stopping, almost classical rhetoric on the campaign trail, he chose not to use his power. At such a tempting moment for a great orator, he chose not to stir up the passionate feelings that it needed only a touch of his honeyed voice to arouse. Instead he spoke gravely of the power that lies in humility and restraint. In the context it was positively un-American and it was wholly admirable. It was exactly the corrective tone of voice that was needed, which a lesser man might not have been selfless enough to use. Imagine, to suggest a ridiculous comparison, what a man like Tony Blair would have made of such a moment. He would have taken off into the ether on the wings of mindless poesy. I’ve always thought that what went wrong with Blair was his seduction by American presidential glamour, by the machismo of the motorcade, the great power of all that mass attention. I think that as soon as he got to Bill Clinton’s Washington, the unsophisticated boy from Islington was corrupted by the thrill of outriders, snipers and surround-sound imperial razzle-dazzle on a world stage; it turned his head, with results that we now know. There is a great tradition in British thought, to which Obama is heir, just as he is heir to the disciplined classical rhetoric of Abraham Lincoln, of not saying more than you mean. One of the most famous expressions of this restraint was given by Shakespeare to Cordelia in King Lear. When her vainglorious father demands to know how much she loves him, she will say no more than is strictly true: she will not exaggerate to advance her own interests. “According to my bond, no more no less,” she says. Her sisters make overblown protestations, but betray him. Cordelia remains quietly loyal. This is the honourable tradition to which Obama seems to belong. The opposite tradition, which informs so much of the media and politics, is excess – an excess of exclaiming, promising, demanding, mythologising, misunderstanding, mindless gabby ignorance and general emotional incontinence. Look on the blogosphere – Obama has been subjected to all this in unprecedented volume. The new president faces problems at home and abroad that may well be insoluble. He is very inexperienced and most of us know little about him. Historically speaking, few individuals make a difference for the better, yet individuals in power can and do constantly make terrible mistakes for the worse. Whatever Obama’s virtues, the truth is that no president could possibly be sure what to do about the global financial crisis. Even the wisdom of Solomon could not decide what Washington could or should do about Gaza, or Afghanistan, or Iran’s nuclear capabilities, or North Korea’s, or world poverty, or domestic debt, or drugs, or the American poor. And even if anyone knew what should be done, it might still be impossible to do very much. The almost religious expectations laid upon Obama will necessarily be disappointed. That is why the hysterical hoopla that has built them up is indeed important, because it is dangerous. We’ve had the circuses, the masses will soon say. Now we want the bread. And what will happen to the emperor who cannot provide it?