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In Teach Like Nobody's Watching: The essential guide to effective and efficient teaching, Mark Enser sets out a time-efficient approach to teaching that will reduce teachers' workload and enhance their pupils' levels of engagement and attainment. At a time when schools are crying out for more autonomy and trust, teacher and bestselling author Mark Enser asks educators the critical question How would you teach if nobody were watching? and empowers them with the tools and confidence to do just that. Mark argues that a quality education is rooted in simplicity.In this book he convincingly strips away the layers of contradictory pedagogical advice that teachers have received over the years and lends weight to the three key pillars that underpin effective, efficient teaching: the lesson, the curriculum and the school's support structure. Teach Like Nobody's Watching explores these three core elements in detail, and presents teachers with a range of practical, time-efficient approaches to help them reclaim their professional agency and ensure that their pupils get the excellent education they deserve. Part I considers the individual lesson and explores how lessons can be built around four simple elements: recap, input, application and feedback. Each chapter considers one aspect of the lesson in turn and discusses its importance with a particular focus on how educational research can be applied to it in the classroom, how it might look in different subjects, and the potential pitfalls to avoid. Part II recognises that lessons don't happen in isolation but as part of a wider curriculum. This section tackles: the creation of a programme of study that takes pupils on a journey through your subject; the super-curriculum of what happens outside the classroom; the principles of assessment design; and how time in departments can be used to reduce workload and support a culture of excellence. Finally, Part III looks at the role of the wider school in supporting teachers to teach like nobody's watching and how leaders can help to set them free from some of the more burdensome pressures. In this section, Mark draws on the experience of school leaders in a range of different contexts to illustrate what they have done to support effective and efficient teaching in their schools. Suitable for all teachers in both primary and secondary schools.
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I am very lucky to work at Heathfield Community College, East Sussex: a school that fosters a culture of professional trust and encourages its teachers to seize their agency, become more informed and teach like nobody’s watching. I would like to thank our senior leadership team for their role in creating this culture and especially our head teacher, Caroline Barlow, for her support, advice and guidance over the years.
I would also like to acknowledge my colleagues from across the wider profession and especially those found on Twitter who have been generous in their sharing of words of wisdom.
Finally, I’d like to thank my wife, Zoe, for her help and support. Her passion for teaching and improving the life chances of children permeates this book.
This book is based on three things that I believe to be true. Firstly, that teaching is, at its heart, simple. If you want to teach someone something – whether it is how to drive, bake a cake or understand the evidence for plate tectonics – you start by reminding them of what they already know (recap), you then tell or show them something new (input), you direct them to apply and practise with the new concept (application) and then you give feedback on how they are doing. Simple.
The second thing I hold to be true is that doing these simple things well is complex. There are many ways to remind pupils of what they know and even more ways to introduce them to something new. It is this complexity that makes the job of teaching so endlessly fascinating. It is also why it is a profession that requires a high level of training and continuous reflection and development of its members.
My third belief is that teaching has become overcomplicated. Teachers have endured decades of competing and conflicting advice about how they should teach, and spent an inordinate amount of time trying to please outside observers. In my career to date, I have been instructed to do all of the following:
Test pupils to determine their learning style and plan different activities so pupils could choose one that matched their style.
Start the lesson with Brain Gym activities. Stop the lesson frequently to do more Brain Gym activities.
Plan every hour-long lesson as a three-part composition of starter, activity and plenary.
Not talk for more than 10% of the lesson in total.
Let pupils discover knowledge for themselves.
Mark work every two weeks. Use one particular colour pen. Have pupils respond in a second colour. Respond to their response in a third colour.
Base all learning objectives on Bloom’s taxonomy and aim for the higher-order thinking skills in each lesson. Have pupils write every objective in their books.
Don’t teach subject knowledge, as pupils will always be able to look that up. Instead, focus on teaching transferable skills – like evaluation or creativity.
These complications have moved us a long way from the simplicity of recap, input, application and feedback, and have made teaching less effective. They have also added to our workload by making teaching less efficient.
Many of these complications arise when good ideas about how to approach the simplicity of teaching well (i.e. the complexities) are turned into strategies and then passed on to teachers as policies. As I mentioned, there are many ways of delivering the input of new information. One way that became popular (certainly when I started teaching in 2003 and still frequently recommended to teachers on discussion forums today) was a carousel task in which pupils would take turns to visit a table to read the sources of information on it before moving on to the next. This was seen as preferable to simply giving them the information where they sat.
It is entirely possible that somewhere within this strategy there was a kernel of a good idea: a rationale that helped to explain why it was being done and how it was meant to improve learning. If there ever was, it was quickly lost. It became something that teachers were told they should be doing in their classrooms. It was imposed on them, divorced of its underlying explanation. It became a fad.
Sadly, we can see too many good ideas rapidly turn into fads:
Knowledge organisers could be a powerful tool for departmental planning and for self-quizzing, or they could be a task given to already overburdened teachers for them to create and forget about.
Retrieval quizzes could be a useful way to start the lesson and help pupils to make links between different parts of the subject, or they could be a random selection of questions chosen because someone has been told that lessons should begin with a quiz.
Growth mindset sounds like a sensible principle. We want pupils to believe that they can achieve. This could involve carefully scaffolding tasks so that they taste success and know what they are aiming for, or it could be communicated via an assembly and a poster.
A knowledge-rich curriculum could involve a deep understanding of what our subjects entail, with a thoughtful approach to the substantive and disciplinary thinking behind it, or it could involve making a list of what you think pupils should know for the exam.
Chalk and talk could once again be seen as the bedrock of the lesson, whereby an expert carefully unpicks the subject with the use of analogies, diagrams, modelling and questioning, or it could involve someone talking incoherently for 20 minutes and then saying, “Now answer the question.”
All of these ideas, amongst many others, will appear in this book. What I hope to do, though, is to explore the why (the theory underpinning the practice) as well as the what (the practice itself). In this way, we can act as professionals and choose how to apply the principles of effective teaching in our own classrooms. This enables us to have the confidence to teach like nobody’s watching.
When I talk about teaching like nobody’s watching, I mean teaching the way you would naturally if left alone to get on with it. Teaching in this way demands confidence, and this confidence comes from having a good understanding of what works. Whilst this develops with exposure and practice, we also have to remember that our own experience can sometimes be a poor guide to what is most effective.1 This is where a knowledge of educational research can prove invaluable. It acts as a guide and as a check to what we believe to be true.
This body of research (covering everything from how pupils learn to how teachers can develop themselves) also helps us to untangle the web of misinformation and contradictory advice that many of us have been given since we first started teaching. It can show us that it isn’t the case that pupils remember only 10% of what they are told but 90% of what they teach others; that group work isn’t necessarily better than individual work; and that differentiating objectives is unlikely to be effective.
These discussions always raise the knotty question of whether there is a “best” way to teach. I’d suggest that there is, but only if we keep the terms very loose. If we accept that:
“teach” means to ensure that pupils know, understand and can do what we think they should know, understand and be able to do
“way” means an approach, and
“best”, in this context, means most effective and efficient
then we have the question, “Is there a most effective and efficient approach to making sure pupils know, understand and can do?”
This book has the twin pillars of effective and efficient at its heart and these two terms need some unpicking. “Effective” is perhaps less controversial. When we talk about something being effective, we simply mean that it works. Hitting a nail in with the butt of screwdriver might be just as effective as using a hammer. Both get the job done. Likewise, there are many effective ways to teach. We can, as we will discuss, make almost anything work.
Bringing the term “efficient” into education tends to raise more eyebrows. Efficiency tends to mean doing something with the fewest possible resources. At a time when school budgets have been slashed in real terms and everyone is trying to do more with less, it is understandable that the word efficiency causes some alarm. It gets used to justify everything from larger class sizes to firing teaching assistants (TAs).2 In this context though, I mean something slightly different. I mean efficiency in terms of our own personal resources: our time and energy as teachers.
This book will seek to answer the question of how to teach like nobody’s watching by looking at how we can modify our practice in a way that is not only efficient in reducing workload but also effective at creating cultures of excellence from the classroom up.
We ignore this point about efficiency at our peril. Teaching can be an immersive job and it will fill any time you allot to it; the job is never really finished. This creates two significant problems:
1 Burnout. There is a serious UK-wide issue with both teacher recruitment and teacher retention, with an increasing number of teachers leaving the profession each year.3 In many cases this is driven by an unsustainable workload. If we want to keep teachers in the job, we need to make the job efficient.
2 Opportunity cost. There are many things we could do that might make a difference to our pupils. However, time is finite. If we spend time doing one thing because we believe it is important, we have less left over to do something else that might be even more important.
I would argue that one of the biggest problems in schools up and down the country isn’t a lack of effectiveness (we are good at making things work), but a lack of efficiency. We are often instructed to do things in a way that takes more time to get the same result. This wouldn’t happen if we taught like nobody was watching. Then we would find the most efficient way.
Professor Daniel Muijs, head of research at Ofsted, likens this to being instructed to eat soup with a fork.4 If someone asked teachers to do this, we would try. Not only would we try, we would find a way to make it work. The soup would get eaten but at what cost? There would be a lot of mess, a lot of frustration and a lot of time wasted. This book suggests that teachers should instead bring along their own spoon.
I believe that an excellent education starts with excellent individual teachers and that in recent years there has been too much of a focus on school structures as a way of driving improvement. The layout of this book reflects that approach and puts the emphasis very much on what each teacher can do to make a difference in their own classroom.
Part I will consider the individual lesson and discuss how we can build lessons around four simple elements:
1 recap
2 input
3 application
4 feedback
Each chapter will consider one aspect of the lesson in turn and discuss its importance – with a particular focus on how educational research can be applied to it in the classroom, how it might look in different subjects, and the potential pitfalls to avoid.
Part II recognises that lessons don’t happen in isolation but as part of a wider curriculum. This section will discuss:
The creation of a programme of study that takes pupils on a journey through your subject.
The super-curriculum of what happens outside the classroom.
The principles of assessment design.
How time in departments can be used to reduce workload and support a culture of excellence.
In Part III we will look at the role of the wider school in supporting teachers to teach like nobody’s watching and how leaders can help to set them free from some of the more burdensome pressures.
I hope that this book will be a practical, and essential, guide to effective and efficient teaching and will give you the confidence to relax into your role and teach like nobody’s watching.
1 See David Didau, What If Everything You Knew About Education Was Wrong? (Carmarthen: Crown House Publishing, 2015).
2 See for example the Education Endowment Foundation (EEF) Teaching and Learning Toolkit, which shows the cost and impact of any given type of intervention. TAs are listed at a high cost with only one additional month of progress and reducing class size is also expensive for only a three-month lift in progress. The toolkit is available at: https://educationendowmentfoundation.org.uk/evidence-summaries/teaching-learning-toolkit.
3 Will Hazel, Reasons to worry: 5 new facts about teacher retention, TES (27 September 2018). Available at: https://www.tes.com/news/reasons-worry-5-new-facts-about-teacher-retention.
4 Daniel Muijs, Keynote address at the researchEd Durrington conference, Durrington High School (28 April 2018).
PART I
In most schools, it is in the lesson where the individual teacher has the most control, or at least it should be. Unfortunately, many schools have weighed teachers down with long lists of non-negotiables that they are expected to demonstrate in their classrooms. These demands are loaded with various myths about learning that have lingered from teacher training or from years of poor continuing professional development (CPD). The problem has also been driven by fear and a culture of high-stakes accountability. This has led to pedagogy in the classroom being shaped around an idea of what Ofsted are looking for.1 This, as we shall discuss throughout this book, distorts our practice by asking us to teach for outside observers and not for our pupils.
Part I takes a look at the lesson and asks, “What would the lesson look like if teachers took back control of their own classrooms?” To answer this question, we will have to take a good hard look at a number of sacred cows in teaching – for example:
Testing is neutral and doesn’t lead to learning.
Pupils benefit from written comments on their work.
We should plan engaging activities.
Noisy classrooms are a sign of learning.
Teachers should limit how much they talk.
Pupils need to discover knowledge for themselves.
There is one point that we need to discuss before we get started:
Teachers need to plan lessons.
As with many myths in education, this seems too self-evident to be challenged, but challenge it we must. For as long as I can remember, the hour-long lesson has been king. When we train to teach, we are required to complete plans for each of the hour-long lessons we will deliver, with clearly defined objectives that will be met at the end of this unit of time. In many schools, the requirement to create lesson plans for each hour is still there, especially for observed lessons. This hour-long lesson should invariably involve some sort of starter, then a task or series of tasks, and then a plenary to demonstrate what has been learnt. Even if we aren’t writing out individual lesson plans, this way of thinking about a lesson is still engrained from our training. But it is wrong.
Whatever made us think that every objective can be met in exactly one hour? Or, magically, in 50 minutes if that is how long the lesson is? Some things must take more time to learn than others and yet we still think of learning as having to fit into neat blocks of time that begin when pupils enter the classroom and end when they leave.
Before we can do anything else, we need to stop planning lessons as hour-long blocks of time and start thinking about planning learning. When I talk about a lesson comprising of four elements – recap, input, application and feedback – I don’t mean to suggest that these should be worked through in the hour. Rather, whilst meeting an objective, over however long, all four elements should be present. This might involve recap at various points, a mix of input and application, and time for feedback throughout. It might take ten minutes to meet an objective or five hours.
1 See, for example, Daisy Christodoulou, Seven Myths About Education (Abingdon: Routledge, 2014).
CHAPTER 1
When I started teaching, we had hour-long lessons, in theory. In practice we had 40-minute lessons because the start and end were devoted to starters and plenaries. We were explicitly told that the start of the lesson need not have anything to do with the topic of the rest of the lesson, and should be used to “engage the class” and get them excited. Apparently, the idea that the lesson itself could be engaging didn’t cross anyone’s mind. This led to hours of work as I tried to devise exciting and engaging little starters. Pupils would roam the classroom looking for clues about today’s objective, come in to the sounds of tropical rainforests and imagine what it would be like to sail down a river, or be given cards which each revealed one piece of information and have to search for someone with a card that related to it. It took ages, no one learnt anything, and it would take them time to settle down again afterwards.
Now I usually start with a quiz.
I am lucky enough to have the opportunity to see a lot of teachers teach. I wander in and out of classrooms in my own school and sometimes get invited to do the same in other schools. Wherever I am, and whatever subject I am observing, I almost always hear the same words towards the start of a lesson: “Last lesson we …” “Last lesson we …” is the teacher equivalent of “Once upon a time” or “In a galaxy far, far away”. It indicates that the lesson is underway, that we have begun. And it isn’t only in the classroom that we find this. When I was learning to drive, I remember each lesson beginning with a quick reminder of the basics learnt last time. When learning to bake I made an apple crumble, and that lesson started with a reminder that rubbing in the fat and flour was the same method we’d used with the scones we’d made the week before. When we are teaching something, we naturally start with a recap of what went before.
To recap is to “recapitulate” – to go through and summarise the main points of a previous meeting or document. It is literally a step backwards. So why does learning start in this way? Shouldn’t we be starting our lesson by rushing headlong into a new learning objective? Isn’t going back over something you have already done a bit boring?
Let us look at each of those concerns in turn.
I would suggest that there is a reason why so many lessons, in and out of the classroom, start with the magic words “Last lesson we …” It is because it works. Humans are natural teachers and intuitively know how to pass on what they know to the next generation. In Making Kids Cleverer, David Didau cites research from psychologists who looked at young children who were teaching each other to play board games and deployed the same kind of strategies as trained teachers. This leads to him concluding:
this is somewhat alarming as it suggests that much of what teacher training and professional development consists of are competencies possessed by the average 5-year-old!1
As we shall see, learning doesn’t just occur from the study of new material, but from the constant recollection of material we have studied before. If we don’t revisit something, we struggle to remember it. The adage “use it or lose it” seems to apply here. Teachers, and possibly 5-year-olds, instinctively understand this.
This is certainly how I was encouraged to start a lesson when I began teaching. We were told that a lesson should begin with something to excite the pupils about what they were going to learn, which would engage them in the lesson. Whilst this is well intentioned, it runs the risk of each (albeit very exciting) lesson appearing to be a distinct silo of information. This doesn’t allow complex schemas to develop (as we will explore shortly).
Short answer: no.
Having the chance to use what you have learnt is far from boring. It gives pupils a feeling of progress and a way of actually seeing what they have learnt. We also need to keep in mind that our perspective of the school day is very different to that of our pupils. When they leave our classroom, they don’t exist in a vacuum. They will have learnt new things in half a dozen or so other subjects, and will have done various other things outside of school as well. Spending a few minutes to pause and reflect on what they have already learnt can be an important break from a bombardment of new information.
As with everything else that we do, it is important that we are clear on the function we want recap to play in our lessons. Barak Rosenshine, in his seminal paper Principles of instruction, suggests that teachers start their lesson with a review of previous learning for two reasons:2
1 To practise recalling previously learnt material, thereby strengthening the ability to recall it in the future.
2 To link new material to that which has come before.
This chapter will consider how retrieval practice leads to more secure learning and the importance of developing schemas, and then explore what these two things look like in the classroom. We will finish by looking at some of the potential pitfalls to avoid.
We would like to think that pupils leave our lessons having learnt something. Indeed, a huge amount of time and energy is expended by teachers in trying to demonstrate to outside observers that this has happened. One problem with trying to demonstrate learning is that the word itself is so hazily defined. Jeffrey Karpicke and Phillip Grimaldi provide the rather neat definition that “learning represents the ability to use past experiences in the service of the present.”3 To say that something is learnt means that a person can use information from one point in time in another, and in a different context. If a pupil is taught to recognise the verbs in a particular piece of writing, we would expect them to be able to recognise verbs in a different piece of writing before we could say that they have learnt to recognise verbs.
Karpicke and Grimaldi argue that this has some important implications for teachers. They suggest that in the past, learning has been associated with study – with the acquisition, encoding or constructing of new knowledge. And so we have a culture of doing, in which the activity is king in the learning process. This has meant that the act of retrieval has been regarded as a way of testing that this learning has taken place. The retrieval itself was seen as a neutral act that had no impact on learning. Weighing the pig did not make it grow.
Research in cognitive science, however, turns this culture of doing on its head and shows that it is not the studying of material that leads to secure learning, but the retrieval of it – recalling it back to mind. When we do this, we don’t just replay what we have learnt but instead have to reconstruct it in light of new information and in a new context. This idea is not new. It was discussed by Hermann Ebbinghaus in the late 19th century, and he noted that whilst memory of a subject faded over time, every time it was recalled the memory lasted longer.4 His work has been replicated and refined since and the principle is now widely accepted.5
It is the interplay between the working memory and the long-term memory that makes recap so important and so useful. Our long-term memory is almost limitless in its capacity to store information. Our working memory, however, can hold very little at any one time: this is why it is so difficult to remember a phone number someone leaves on an answerphone message and you find yourself having to chant it to yourself over and over again as you search for a pen. Once the number is in your long-term memory, though, you can access it with ease and without even noticing that you are doing it.
This also helps to explain why a phone number like 106621 is easier to remember than 439721. The number 1066 already has a meaning in your long-term memory. Those four numbers are chunked together as one piece of information. You therefore only have to remember three things: 1066 and 2 and 1.
When we talk about retrieval practice, we need to be very clear about what we mean. It doesn’t mean simply going back over something (recap more generally); it is about actively trying to recall something from our long-term memory. This means that retrieval practice needs to be done without access to notes on the subject. Simply revisiting a topic isn’t retrieval because we are effectively outsourcing our long-term memory to the resource that we are studying. And restudying is not as effective as retrieving.
Henry Roediger and Jeffrey Karpicke’s research compared the effects of studying with those of retrieval.6 They created three experimental groups of pupils who read brief scientific texts under different conditions:
1 The first group read and studied the text in four study periods.
2 The second group read and studied the text in three periods and tried to recall as much as they could in the fourth period.
3 The third group studied the text in the first period and spent the next three periods trying to recall as much as they could.
Despite receiving no feedback on the accuracy of their recall, the third group of pupils who focused on retrieval far outperformed the ones who focused on repeated study. This point about feedback is picked up in a paper by Butler and Roediger, who found that although retrieval without feedback still produced positive effects, tests with feedback were even more effective.7 Perhaps more surprising was their finding that this positive effect was even greater when the feedback was delayed. It is possible that this is because it takes advantage of the spacing effect – a gap in time between study and restudy or retrieval – and that the feedback provides a second chance for the information to be brought out of the long-term memory and considered. Researcher Robert Bjork lists this effect as an example of a desirable difficulty.8 This is something that may impede performance in the short term (pupils are more likely to do well initially if they study everything in a block without any gap at all), but will lead to benefits in the long term as what pupils learn will be more secure: they will be able to access it for longer.
I occasionally hear concerns that retrieval practice is simply encouraging the learning of individual facts by rote and that although it may help you to remember that specific piece of information, it doesn’t help you do anything with it. Research by Elizabeth Bjork et al., however, suggests that not only do pupils remember the facts they are quizzed on, but they actually do better on questions that are only related to these facts, which they weren’t directly quizzed on.9 Retrieval really does promote meaningful learning.
However it works, asking pupils to retrieve things they learnt previously is an effective way to start a lesson and helps to explain why recap plays an important role in the classroom.
The second reason to build recap into your lessons is to help pupils develop schemas in your subject. David Didau and Nick Rose say that “a schema can be thought of as an organising framework representing some aspect of the world and a system of organising that information”.10 A schema could be thought of as a web that connects different pieces of information together and allows this information to be brought to mind and used.
For example, an English teacher will probably have a well-developed schema around the character of Lady Macbeth. Just seeing the character’s name will bring up a range of associations: the play she is in, her relationship to the other characters, key quotes and key scenes. It will also be attached to a lot of secondary information: the portrayal of women in literature, similarities and differences to how other characters are presented in Shakespeare, and performances of this character in the theatre.