Please, Tell Me Where I’m Going Wrong, Just Don’t Rely On Data To Prove Your Point
All of us know that sometimes we make great strides with a pupil only to see no reflection of it in the data, says Michael Tidd, and that the reverse can equally be true
- by Michael Tidd
I’ve always been fond of that old saying, ‘Live by the sword, die by the sword’, not least because its nouns can be so easily replaced.
Given that swords are relatively rare in primary education – save for the cardboard and aluminium foil concoctions rolled out for the occasional Robin Hood play – I prefer to opt for ‘data’.
Live by the data, expect to die by the data. Well, maybe die is a bit strong, but anyway…
This has struck a chord a few times with me recently, particularly in discussions on social media where teachers seem to use data to resolve disagreements on far more complex issues.
I make no qualms about stating where I disagree with common practice. I taught a guided reading carousel for approximately three weeks before throwing my hands in the air and declaring the whole thing bonkers (how can it be sensible to have four-fifths of my class not being taught?); I think the obsession with using pencils in maths is unfounded; the vast majority of marking that happens in primary schools strikes me as a waste of time.
But none of these things are incontestable truths. They are merely my opinions, based on my experience. I’m happy for others to tell me where they think I’m wrong.
Goodness, sometimes I even listen to them. But there’s one sure-fire way of allowing me to discount your argument, and that’s when you rely on the simplicity of data to prove your point.
We’ve spent years as a profession – indeed, I believe we are still very much fighting that fight – to make those who would judge schools and teachers recognise that there is much more to good teaching and learning than simple test outcomes.
One of my other disagreements with many colleagues is that I think tests are a good thing, and that I like that Year 6 SATs exists (I’m less persuaded by Y2). But underpinning those views is the recognition that data tells us only a tiny part of the picture.
My recent experience with the NAHT’s assessment review group led to a key principle that ‘data from statutory assessment will never tell you the whole story of school effectiveness.’ And so it is with classroom effectiveness. In my final year of teaching at my first school, the data spewed out by the assessment leader seemed to show that my class had made over four years of progress in maths in just one year. Even my level of arrogance doesn’t extend to me believing that.
All of us know that sometimes we make great strides with a pupil, only to see no reflection of it in the data, and that the reverse can equally be true.
So why is it that when some teachers choose to disagree with me – or others – on their chosen approach to something, they quickly fall back on the data?
If your argument for using a pencil in maths is that last year over 90% of your school reached the expected standard, I’m not persuaded to throw out all my previous beliefs and follow your lead.
Frankly, if you think that 90% at the expected standard of anything is a persuasive argument, I’m more likely to throw out your views than my own.
The reasons for your excellent attainment could be myriad: maybe the teacher before you was simply excellent and you’re riding on their coattails.
Maybe your school has a high-attaining intake with supportive parents who ensure that their children are tutored to fill any gaps you’ve left.
Maybe your excellent explanations and clear thinking have enabled children to make bounding progress regardless of their writing utensil.
Maybe your school never teachers anything but English and maths?
Maybe you don’t realise how brilliant you are, and just put it down to the pencils.
Or maybe you cheated?
The likelihood is that none of these is quite true, but the certainty is that the lovely data that your graphs show tell me little about what works.
So disagree with me by all means; tell me you think I’m completely wrong; show me the things you do that challenge my thinking, but if you fall back on simple numbers to try to prove your point, you’re frankly tilting at windmills.
Michael Tidd is deputy headteacher at Edgewood Primary School in Hucknall, Nottinghamshire. He blogs at michaelt1979.wordpress.com and you can follow him on Twitter at @michaelt1979
