Month: July 2016

Three reasons I no longer support Jeremy Corbyn and ten things that would persuade me to support him again.

Last year I voted for Jeremy Corbyn. I was angry after Labour’s general election defeat and, despite my cursor hovering for some time over Yvette Cooper’s name as I voted online, the anger got the better of me. In the past year I have come to deeply regret the choice that I, along with so many others, made last summer.

There are three reasons for this.

Firstly, I have been disappointed by Corbyn’s lack of strategy in terms of taking the fight to the Tories; he seems more interested in holding increasingly narcissistic rallies for his adoring fans than in taking his message to the wider public. His messages are therefore communicated to those who already support him in seats Labour already holds, rather than being spread more widely either in the media or directly by spending time in target seats we need to win to beat the Tories. Of course, the media is hostile to him but without a plan to cut through that hostility his approach simply can’t work. Corbyn’s supporters often insist that his message would be resonating far more effectively if it weren’t for the recent so-called “coup” by Labour MPs, conveniently ignoring that Labour were already 8% behind the Tories in the latest poll of polls conducted before said coup.  So unwilling are many of Corbyn’s supporters to acknowledge their idol’s lack of support among his own MPs, that talk of deselecting them has become commonplace. The idea that splitting the Labour vote in this way could benefit anyone other than the Tories under the First Past the Post system is ludicrous.

Secondly, Corbyn’s policy platform is completely uninteresting, and in places totally anathema to the majority of the voting public and the idea that Labour can win an election without any compromise at all is absurd. There is an extent to which a party leader should nail their colours to the mast and change the conversation but to start out by declaring oneself at odds with the electorate on so many issues and refusing even to acknowledge people’s concerns does nothing to improve things; it simply makes people stop listening. The response to this is often “better to lose being principled than to win by copying the Tories” as though we have a binary choice between those two extremes. Even if you think the latter is what Blair did (and I don’t personally think that’s particularly fair) then look at Labour’s other two election-winning post-war prime ministers. Neither Atlee nor Wilson copied the Tories, but both were willing to compromise to a significant extent with the electorate’s existing views and secured radical, positive change as a consequence.

Thirdly, I have become extremely uncomfortable about the cult-like following that surrounds Corbyn. He has three or four hundred thousand supporters who repeatedly insist that the strength of feeling they have about him demonstrates that he is capable of leading Labour to a general election victory. When faced with any sort of evidence that this may not be true their first instinct is to concoct a conspiracy theory to explain away the evidence, often egged on in this regard by the likes of Len McCluskey and The Canary. In all too many cases, they quickly resort to name-calling, insisting that anyone presenting such evidence must be a Blairite, a traitor or a red Tory. Clearly, a movement that is obsessed above all else with including the right people rather than trying to make room for the majority of the public isn’t going to be a movement that forms the next government.

That cult mentality is something I particularly want to challenge because I find that sort of thinking very frustrating. The philosopher Karl Popper developed the “falsification principle,” the idea that any given proposition was only useful if one could identify how, in theory, it could be proved false. This idea forms the basis of modern science- a scientific theory is merely a falsifiable proposition which, try as they might, its opponents have as yet been unable to disprove. If I made a proposition that couldn’t be falsified even in theory (e.g. “I have an imaginary friend but no one else can see or hear them and they leave no tangible trace on the physical world and no, I won’t go and see a doctor”) it would be somewhat meaningless. Belief in Corbyn appears, on the part of his many supporters, to be becoming an unfalsifiable proposition. Whatever evidence is produced, the rules are changed so that the evidence cannot be applied to the blessed St. Jeremy. Any criticism whatsoever is condemned as a stitch-up by any one of three acronyms: the PLP (Parliamentary Labour Party), the MSM (Main-Stream Media) or, and I can’t believe I’m actually having to type this, MI5. At least we now know what they did with their time once they’d finished sneaking all the pencils into the polling booths during the EU referendum…

My own opposition to Corbyn is completely falsifiable. What follows is a list of ten pieces of evidence that would convince me I was wrong. If faced with any of these pieces of evidence, I would change my mind and support him.

1.) Labour led the Conservatives in headline voter intention polls consistently for three months.

2.) Consistent polling over three months showed that Jeremy Corbyn’s personal popularity with voters in Labour target seats was significantly higher than the Prime Minister.

3.) Corbyn unveiled a strategy for getting his and the party’s voice heard more effectively through the media, he stuck to this strategy for three months and it began to work.

4.) Labour won a by-election in a target Conservative-held seat.

5.) Robust independent evidence of any sort emerged that more than a million non-voters from 2015 now intended to vote Labour.

6.) Robust independent evidence of any sort emerged that substantial numbers of people (let’s say more than 10%) were attending his rallies who voted Conservative or UKIP in 2015.

7.) Polling evidence was published indicating that de-selecting Labour MPs and replacing them with Corbyn supporters would make constituents who voted Labour in 2015 more likely to vote Labour again in a majority of Labour-held seats.

8.) Polling evidence was published that the public’s views were shifting significantly in favour of Corbyn’s preferred approaches to Trident, foreign policy, welfare and immigration- that he was winning those arguments.

9.) A significant number of MPs (let’s say 7) who served either in his original shadow cabinet and then resigned or served in Ed Miliband’s shadow cabinet or Gordon Brown’s cabinet, developed confidence in him and either returned to his shadow cabinet or indicated a willingness to serve.

10.) The Sun backed Jeremy Corbyn on its front page (Murdoch manipulates things for as long as he can but in the end he backs winners; if he genuinely thought Corbyn was going to win, this would be the consequence.)

I don’t believe any of these things are going to happen and that is why I no longer support Corbyn, not because I don’t want to make the country fairer and more equal but precisely because I do. If any of these pieces of evidence presents itself, I will hold my hands up and admit I was wrong.

I would be interested to read a Corbyn supporter’s list of evidence that would prove that their experiment had failed and a new approach was required.

The Fire that Burns Against the Cold

Today my twelve-year career as a primary school teacher comes to an end, for now at least. This is an occasion to pay tribute to the remarkable men and women of one of the most underestimated and misunderstood professions in our society.

In Game of Thrones, new recruits to the “Night’s Watch” swear the following oath:

Night gathers, and now my watch begins.

 It shall not end until my death.

I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children.

I shall wear no crowns and win no glory.

I shall live and die at my post.

I am the sword in the darkness.

I am the watcher on the walls.

I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men.

 I pledge my life and honour to the Night’s Watch, for this night and all the nights to come.

At the most tiring and stressful times in the school year, teachers often imagine they have sworn an oath such as this. The rules that apply to ordinary citizens about working hours, about what constitutes a reasonable deadline or about what level of abuse and unkindness one should be willing to tolerate at work become suspended because we’re “here for the children.” It’s one hell of as life, and politicians have been making it harder and harder for several years, usually without any benefit to the pupils and often to their detriment. I’ve written about this, I’ve explained why it’s unfair and I’ve got all of that out of my system. You can read about it herehere and here.

But now the end has come, I’d prefer not to use this moment to have a moan. Instead I want to pay tribute to the quite brilliant men and women in the profession I’ve been so proud to be part of for the past twelve years, first as a lowly PGCE student and eventually as a deputy head. Yesterday, when finding myself the butt of the joke during a bit of ribald staff room banter, I told some of my comrades-in-arms (in jest, of course) that my next blog post would be entitled “why my colleagues are all complete twats.” If that is true (and, in a way, aren’t we all complete twats?) they are the most noble, compassionate, hard-working and perceptive bunch of complete twats you’re ever likely to meet.

 The Night’s Watch in Game of Thrones is a band of grim-faced outcasts charged with defending the lands of the living from the mysterious threats that lie north of a vast and ancient wall. They keep the kingdom safe without most of its people appreciating, or often even knowing about, the many sacrifices they make. Teachers aren’t the only people who could be compared to the Night’s Watch on this basis. Doctors, nurses, social workers, police officers, paramedics, fire fighters and members of the armed forces as well as many other people who work in both the public and the private sector no doubt feel the same way about their work all too often. But sometimes (and with so many of the services provided by those other people having been cut) it really does feel like our schools sit on the front line between civilization and chaos. For many children from the most vulnerable backgrounds it is their teachers who give them their sense of morality, stability and aspiration. In fact, never mind that; sometimes it’s their teachers who give them their breakfast. Society has started unravelling at an alarming rate and it was never completely healthy to begin with. The extent to which this is happening isn’t always obvious to the public at large because, in between them and the consequences of this unravelling, are the teachers (and teaching assistants) standing guard- the shield that guards the realm of men (and women!) For some children these exceptional individuals are fairy tale heroes; rare beams of sunlight or sparks of inspiration in the otherwise dull, uncertain and sometimes even downright terrifying world in which they live.

And that isn’t the half of it. The mental and intellectual strain and creative energy required to teach well, even (if not especially) at primary level, is well beyond what anyone would imagine who has never tried it. Understanding the characters and needs at work in a class of 30, ensuring they are all catered for and homing in on the particular misconceptions that act as barriers to their learning is methodical, forensic work. The stereotypes many of the public have of kind, mumsy ladies in floaty skirts giving children pictures to colour in, or bearded hippies strumming away on a guitar without any particular aim or purpose present a completely false impression of life in a modern primary school. If it ever was like that, it definitely isn’t now, and hasn’t been at any point during my career. The teachers I’ve worked with have tended to be fiercely intelligent, ruthlessly critical people, sometimes to the point of cynicism, but always with their obligations to the young people they teach at the forefront of their minds.

 I don’t know exactly where I’m going from here or what happens next. Having lived my whole life up until now according to a heavily-regimented three-term year, that is remarkably liberating. But I do wonder where else in the world I will encounter such good and admirable people as my brothers and sisters in the teaching profession: a brave and industrious fellowship of brilliant, gritty people for whom I will never stop fighting. To all of you out there, serving the people of this country with little or no thanks from many of them, I see you. You are strong and powerful, even though you never get to feel like it. You are wise and innovative, even though your political overlords go out of their way to make you feel stupid and ineffective. You are the hope and salvation for so many children who rely on you even though they and their families may never give you the credit. Like the sworn brothers of the Night’s Watch, you are the fire that burns against the cold and I will always be proud to have served alongside you. Have a wonderful summer holiday- you deserve it.

And now my watch is ended.

Five Reasons why these Test Results Tell us Precisely Nothing.


In the aftermath of the publication of Key Stage 2 assessment results on Tuesday, much of the criticism by unions and other teaching organisations has, quite reasonably, been that the government’s new tests are too hard, that they are setting children up to fail and that the content is not relevant to children’s lives. While valid, all of these criticisms are merely components of a much broader concern: that the all-important performance data the test results create no longer tells us anything useful. Educational policy, Ofsted judgements and funding decisions will no doubt continue to be made on the basis of this data and yet, for the five reasons outlined below, that data is not worth the paper it’s written on. 

1. The reading test doesn’t assess the National Curriculum. Or reading. Or anything.

The level of vocabulary required to access the reading test (example: “rehabilitating the image of the dodo”) was what one would previously have expected from a university-educated adult. Without such a level of vocabulary (precious little of which was included in the DfE’s assessment framework or the 2014 National Curriculum) children were unable to answer most of the questions. The logic of using test results to hold schools to account for the extent to which they have done what they have been asked to do is flawed at best, but when they are holding schools to account for something they haven’t been asked to do, the process is completely absurd. Children whose parents do not speak English or do not routinely use a broad vocabulary will not typically be able to access this test however good their schooling has been. These children may be well on their way to being well-educated adults who will have a vocabulary that broad when they leave secondary school, but to penalise them and their teachers for the fact that this process is incomplete at the age of eleven is ludicrous. It assesses nothing but the demographic make-up of a particular school.

2. Writing assessment is in chaos.

The entire process through which children’s writing is assessed has been reduced to a (very easily-manipulated) system of box-ticking. A child is given a score based on how many times they have used particular grammatical devices and punctuation marks without any consideration of whether the writing actually conveys meaning with clarity or engages the reader. The national data suggests schools have been able to meet these requirements but they have only managed this by modelling and redrafting writing in children’s books in such a way that the child’s input into the process is barely required at all. It is almost insulting to suggest that a school which has produced copious evidence of its compliance with this nonsense has served its children better than one which has spent its time actually teaching them to write.

3. The political manipulation of the results is painfully obvious.

If the government had maintained the imperfect but generally age-appropriate assessment mechanisms for 11-year-olds bequeathed to them by the last Labour government, I suspect results would have continued to rise over the last six years as schools have continued to improve despite, rather than because of the government’s reforms. As budgets are slashed over the next couple of years and the exodus of teachers from the profession picks up, one assumes the steady rise in standards we’ve seen over the last nineteen years is about to go into reverse.

Against that background, the Year 1 phonics check provides us with a clue as to what the government is really up to. This new test was introduced by Michael Gove to test the extent to which children in Year 1 could “sound out” phonetically regular words and “non-words.” Each year the test has, by fairly common agreement among teachers, got slightly easier but the pass mark has remained unchanged at 32/40. Already Nicky Morgan is using this as evidence that the government’s education reforms have improved early reading. Clearly, this process is now also at play in Key Stage 2. The inaccessible vocabulary in the reading test will no doubt start to retreat over the next couple of years allowing more children to reach the expected standard every May. Graphs will be produced on the basis of this as the Tories head into the next general election showing how attainment in primary schools has risen year on year during this parliament, even if the quality of children’s education is actually dropping.

4. The practices encouraged by these tests are not good for our children and a strong performance in them may indicate poor educational provision.

Many schools in the state sector have the power to turn down certain pupils. Academies can claim that they are “unable to meet the needs” of particular pupils while faith schools can insist on only admitting children whose families subscribe to their “religious ethos.” The many cases in which this is simply used as a scam by school and families unlike to ensure an almost entirely sharp-elbowed middle class intake are well-documented. In a climate where these new Key Stage 2 tests are the benchmark of success, the incentive for these schools to ramp up their deployment of these tricks is enormous. Judging a school on how middle-class its Year 6 pupils’ parents are is a recipe for division in our already precariously unequal society.

Whatever pupils end up in a school, the way in which we are judged now means our perceived success has nothing to do with the extent to which we encourage children to enjoy learning, to develop skills that will help them get a job when they are older or even remember how to read, write and do maths after the tests have finished. We are being forced to hot-house children so that, for four days in May when they are eleven years old, their heads are full of formal written calculation methods and SPaG terminology like “relative pronoun” and “past progressive tense.” It doesn’t matter if they remember it after that and it doesn’t matter if they know anything else (like where the UK is on a map of the world or how to reach a compromise with another human being). This sort of cramming was already, in my view, a questionable way to organise the structure of secondary education (I knew all sorts of things about Physics in June 1999 that I have never known before or since) but in primary school I think it is seriously damaging.

5. The testing regime rewards the cheats and punishes integrity.

We live in an era where primary schools and the careers of their head teachers stand or fall on the basis of their Key Stage 2 results. The way they are used as a starting point for Ofsted inspections means that what happens during the four days the tests are administered matters more to a primary school’s perceived “success” than the other 187 days of the school year put together. At my school, we administered all the tests completely in accordance with the rules set out in the DfE’s Test Administrator’s Guide but we only did this because our professional integrity matters to us, not because there is any serious mechanism compelling us to do so. The procedures for ensuring compliance with the rules are virtually non-existent. Apart from brief monitoring visits by local authority staff (whose own objectivity could surely be questioned given their precarious position in relation to the academisation agenda) for a handful of schools on one of the days the tests are taking place, there is nothing to stop unscrupulous staff from providing their children with an unfair advantage. This could range from breaking the rules slightly by implying a child think again about a question they have got wrong to outright cheating by correcting or supplying an answer.

I’ve heard a number of stories of schools where this sort of skulduggery is considered a fact of life. When the mark schemes were made available on the DfE website last year, I was at an event with teachers from an academy in North London and I heard one say to another, referring to one of the answers: “oh good. That’s what I told the kids.” Just this week, a colleague of mine asked a teacher from another school how they had got such astronomically high maths results and was told: “we just make sure they get every mark in the arithmetic test.” When confronted with such ominous statements, one is often inclined not to dig too deep and of course both of these instances could turn out to be perfectly innocent if we knew exactly what they had meant. Yet in an age where schools are increasingly being run by multi-academy trusts with their own agendas that rely only on results, it is easy to see how corruption could start to take root and ultimately become routine. Those of us who play by the rules are starting to feel like utter mugs in this brave new world.


There is Nothing Undemocratic about Fighting Brexit

“The People have spoken – the bastards”

-Dick Tuck, political strategist for John F. Kennedy

Imagine a general election in which an incumbent Prime Minister faced a challenge from a party led by three of four recognisable political names making three or four big, memorable political promises. Imagine also that this Prime Minister suffered a narrow defeat and offered his resignation the next day. Imagine, then, that the three or four big names who had led the opposition challenge admitted their big promises had all been made up and all but one of them hastily withdrew from the political scene. Imagine, finally, that the supporters of this insurgent party told the rest of us that there would be no further elections ever; that this state of affairs was the settled will of the British people and we would now have a government of this sort in perpetuity because anything else would be undemocratic.

This is, in a nutshell, what the 48% of us who voted to remain in the EU (as well as the considerable numbers we’re told may now be rethinking the wisdom of their decision) are facing up to now. This referendum was binding; the UK must now leave the EU leaving no way open for it to return. This is exactly as democratic as the mandate handed to the Empire in Star Wars. When the Galactic Senate grants the evil Chancellor Palpatine the powers he needs to eventually declare himself emperor and rule the Galaxy unchallenged and in perpetuity, Natalie Portman’s Padmé Amidala watches on in despair as her fellow senators cheer the decision to the rafters, remarking ruefully: “so this is how liberty dies- with thunderous applause.” Her sentiments reflect exactly how I felt on the morning of Friday 24th June.

Article 50 hasn’t been triggered yet and, in our democracy, parliament is sovereign. If a majority of our MPs fight this nonsense with sufficient force (an overwhelming majority of them campaigned to remain after all) there is no reason why there shouldn’t still be a way back from the brink. Yes, of course a new mandate would be needed to overturn the verdict of the British people but there is no reason why this would have to be a second referendum- although that is also a viable option, especially if it were presented as a vote on the negotiating position the government were planning to take forward. Another option would simply be for MPs to force a general election. Such a strategy would rely on a new Labour leader or maybe even a totally new grouping of broadly progressive, pragmatic, internationalist MPs, but times like these can force major realignments; maybe that’s something to be embraced.

There are a range of options which could give the British people an opportunity to reconsider their decision as the events of the next few weeks and months to play out. When people decide they regret their choice of government, they know the time will always come when they can change their mind. There is nothing undemocratic about applying the same principle to the outcome of this referendum.