Monday 3 June 2013

The Notional Curriculum for English

Last week I wandered down to the baker's. I wanted to buy a grown-up loaf that you had to slice yourself and was baked in a shape that made slicing (and indeed eating) an improbable outcome. To enhance this urge towards grown-upness I was also seeking a loaf with the sort of ingredients that probably make bakers feel clever and their customers satisfyingly nauseous: sun-dried tomatoes, dates, walnuts, parmesan cheese and ceps gathered tirelessly from the forests of the Loire Valley, for example. However - due to a wedding or a circumcision or something - that baker was shut, so I retraced my steps to the other baker where you can buy bread that is fluffy, crusty, gleamingly white and delicious. It is also where one of my ex-Year 11s works, the one who twice called me a 'twat', only once beneath
her breath.


There can be a certain schadenfreude about shopping in this baker's: she has to be at least polite. However, more often I feel a shame and intimidation that turn me from the door. This was one of those days. I ended up with a dull, healthy, wholemeal-with-bits loaf from Tesco Express, and trudged home in a state of rueful self-disgust.

Then I cheered up. It occurred to me that the lessons I had offered my baker-nemesis had needed a little leavening, and that the new draft national curriculum would be no more digestible to her than what I had tried to cram down her throat. So, I decided to sit down and write my own Notional Curriculum for English, a development out of the framework I mixed and baked years ago and is now enshrined in many English teaching materials  published by Smart Learning and Heinemann.

See what you think of my realistic, minimalist Notional Curriculum for English. It's for everyone - not just those currently destined for a life among baked goods.








The Notional Curriculum for English 2013   
 

What it is
It is an attempt to package English in a form that respects the integrity of the subject but also provides something of a practical teaching framework.

The core of the curriculum
This 'notional curriculum' is divided into ten learning focuses (or 'foci'). Six of these focuses are identified as 'foundation' focuses: these are not the 'fancy stuff'; they are the broad skills or competencies that students need to function in English, to communicate clearly and accurately, and they are the competencies they need across the curriculum.

It is not implied that the foundation focuses need to be mastered before the others are given attention, but that they should probably be attended to first and should never be neglected or taken for granted: learners need to keep developing their skills in these areas throughout their years in education.

 
Learning focuses
A. Foundation focuses:

1. Spelling and vocabulary

2. Handwriting

3. Sentences

4. Read fluently and accurately

5. Meaning and understanding

6. Information handling

 

B. Building focuses:

7. Viewpoint and influence

8. Engaging appropriately

9. Structure

10. Context

 
(See below for detail)

 
Organisation and rationale

The 'notional curriculum' is not divided into reading, writing and speaking. The focuses have been designed to take advantage of the inter-relatedness of these discrete modes. However, teachers will often quite naturally concentrate on only one of these modes during a lesson or lessons.

The purpose of the notional curriculum is to simplify the curriculum for English, taking close account of the draft National Curriculum (2013), and to make it more understandable, particularly for students, their parents, and non-English teachers. By emphasising the holistic nature of language and language development, the notional curriculum will enable students to develop a better appreciation of their progress in the subject as a whole.

In recent times English has become atomised. Students increasingly see the subject content as random and unpredictable. They don't feel they have enough control and choice. Meanwhile, teachers keep shifting the focus for termly attainment measures: one term’s report is derived from four assessment focuses (AFs), but the following terms’ reports are based on quite different focuses. As a result, students, their parents and teachers are frustrated and infuriated by a wildly fluctuating pattern of performance that perversely ignores the underlying coherence of the subject. The learning focuses of the notional curriculum are meant to provide a joint, continuous and permanent focus, so that students can keep getting better at English, rather than at a series of disconnected assessment focuses (AFs).

This learning focus approach also describes – in some senses – a more limited curriculum – a curriculum that is small enough to be stretched and moulded in its particulars to suit the needs and interests of students. In interviews with many students over the last year I have been struck by how ‘over-taught’ students in English feel. It is clear to me that a great many students feel that tasks and processes are over-prescribed and over-scaffolded. Students want much more choice over what to do and how to do it. They want to try stuff out, make mistakes and get help. They want more open-ended tasks. They want the time and opportunity to practise and master the skills they consider to be important: they do not want to race from AF to AF at the tyrannical behest of their teacher or the English department’s scheme of learning. They want some real control, and they want the chance to be proud of what they do and how well they do it. They might be happy to write a publicity leaflet for a theme park, but they might want to write a horror story instead to develop the same skills. These are just different, equally-valid contexts for the use of English. Students need an English  curriculum that supports continuity and development in transferable skills, not a curriculum that encourages a proliferation of contexts.

Of course, setting students free to do what they want would not be a good thing. Chaos and very haphazard progress would be the result. Roughly speaking, we have been there before. However, if we can be informed by a curriculum that helps us to work with students rather than against them, then they cannot be a bad thing. It is this happy situation that the notional curriculum set out below hopes to facilitate.

 


The Notional Curriculum for English 2013


Overall aim

Students should experience, study and enjoy a wide range of texts and speech, drawn from varied eras, places, cultures and genres, so that students can appreciate the dyamic, creative and transformational potential of language.

Students should learn and become proficient in the conventions of English so that they can communicate powerfully, appropriately and efficiently.

 

Learning focus detail:

 
1. Spelling and vocabulary

Students should learn

l  To spell an increasingly complex range of words correctly

l  To improve their own spelling through helpful strategies

 
2. Handwriting

Students should learn

l  To write legibly and quickly

l  To type with reasonable speed and with few errors

 
3. Sentences

Students should learn

l  To write accurate and well-controlled sentences

l  To design sentences for deliberate effect

l  To punctuate correctly and effectively

 
4. Read fluently and accurately

Students should learn

l  To convert print and handwriting into the corresponding sounds, syllables and words

l  To decode print fluently and accurately

l  To choose and use appropriate reading methods, including skimming and scanning

 
5. Meaning and understanding

Students should learn

l  To recognise intended meanings

l  To appreciate subtleties of tone and meaning

l  To infer and interpret

l  To make themselves clear

l  To imply and make provisional suggestions

l  To offer and develop complex and subtle ideas

 
6. Information handling

Students should learn

l  To design research

l  To find information efficiently

l  To evaluate sources

l  To summarise and collate

l  To present

 
7. Viewpoint and influence

Students should learn

l  To recognise overt and implied points of view

l  To recognise how writers and speakers influence readers and listeners

l  To influence readers and listeners

l  To justify views through reasoning and evidence

 
8. Engaging appropriately

Students should learn

l  To speak and write in ways that suit purpose, audience and context

l  To speak and write in formal, standard English (when appropriate)

l  To choose effective, appropriate vocabulary and style

l  To appreciate how and why writers and speakers choose language and style

l  To engage and sustain the interest of readers and listeners

 
9. Structure

Students should learn

l  To organise material effectively into sections and paragraphs

l  To sequence material helpfully and effectively

l  To appreciate how form and structure support meaning and effect

 
10. Context

Students should learn

l  How language changes through time

l  How language varies according to place, class, occupation, etc

l  How the meaning of texts and utterances differs according to culture, era, etc.

l  How to match speech and writing to context

l  How preferred language forms are determined by social, political and economic power

l  How technology affects language use and language change

 

 

 

 

Wednesday 29 August 2012

The tyranny of questions

My daughter complains to me that I interrogate every new friend/ boyfriend/ girlfriend who visits the house. "Have you always lived there?" "What do your parents do?" "How old is your sister/ grandmother/ hamster?" And so on. I suppose I am guilty of this, but I really want to know, and I like people to talk about themselves. I am just giving them that opportunity. Of course my daughter is 14 and my youngest child. I am ancient and embarrassing as a sort of default position.Whenever I ask her questions (which I like to do) she says nothing but rolls her eyes, sighs, or appeals to her mother to control me. Here are just some of the questions that my 14 year-old daughter has found deeply offensive:
  • Are those your books on the sofa?
  • Are you seeing Jess this weekend?
  • Will you need picking up?
  • What time are you going downtown?
  • Could you take your washing upstairs? (Ok, I concede that one.)
  • What would you like for dinner?
  • Did you say you would like a cup of tea?
  • Did you enjoy the film?
  • What did you do at Jess' house?
  • What did you learn at school today?
That last one especially. That one she meets with despairing silence, seething. 

I wonder why questions - any questions - are so offensive to her. Of course one key to this is that if any of us behaved at 24 the way we do at 14 we would be locked away forthwith. It's an age thing. But then perhaps we all hate questions no matter what our age. The thing about questions is that they are insistent, probing, prying, and they leave little space for thought. They don't do us justice either. I've often departed from failed job interviews resenting that they didn't ask the right questions - the ones I would have considered relevant. The ones I wanted to answer.

In lessons we teachers often launch a formidable barrage of questions at teenagers  with - if we are honest or sensitive enough - dispiriting results. Teachers' addiction to questions must often seem like a sort of miserable tyranny to teenagers. When we stand in front of a class and ask a question we normally get no response from most students. What is going on in their heads? All the following things are probably being thought behind the blank faces:
  • I know that! I know that!
  • I have no idea. Please god don't let him ask me.
  • Who cares?
  • Someone will know the answer.
  • I refuse to dignify such a stupid question with an answer.
So, as we start a new academic year, I would like to propose a simple questioning manifesto. I at least will try to stick to it:

Tuesday 21 August 2012

Here

I know where I am: I am in Crediton. However, since I spend a great deal of my time running up and down the M5 between 'here' and Bristol, and up and down the A303 between 'here' and Surrey/South London, I often feel confused about where 'here' is. The situation is complicated further by broader notions of 'here': do I think of here as a place (and a time) or do I relate it to other identities - opinions, networks, experiences, etc? If I tell someone I know where they are coming from, where do I think they've been? Last term one of my Year 11s asked me - cautiously - "Where are you from, sir?" I glibly replied that I live 200 metres from the school gates. "Yes, she said, but you're not from here, are you?" I know what she means if I am truthful and in one of my rare non-evasive moods. I often want to know where someone is from, and I want the answer to make GPS sense. I wonder why.

The other day I realised that my MOT was about to expire so I wandered round to the garage to see Mark. He also does a side-line in funerals. He told me about a fire that had happened in the town in my customary absence beyond the A303. I walked home and found more information about the fire on Twitter. I noticed that the tweet came from someone who is currently attending UEA where my latest child will be going. I went next door to thank our neighbour for looking after our cat and we discussed her extended family network in Crediton. This prompted me to phone my daughter in Bristol to inquire after her and my grandson. 

I suppose what I am teasing out is what do I mean by 'here'? Is it a place? Is it external to ourselves? Is it something frozen within? Is it a portable environment like a burka?

What prompted these ramblings was reading about MOOCs (massive open online courses) and their potential to give everyone access to the education they want. You can't be against these really (although some professors are) because they have such a broad definition. Even Hitler wasn't against something as broad as 'freedom'.

There is a great deal I would like to explore and develop in terms of 'communities of learning' and personal learning networks, but I will, for the moment, express my views in negative, destructive terms: I would like to see universities destroyed as 'suck in, spit out' institutions. I want to see them as part of the web of learning, not castles guarding its highways. I want to have no one attending full time courses physically 'at' universities until they are 26 at least. I want to see universities inter-relating with and serving the learning networks. These networks will thrive on conversations, tweets, blogs, etc. I want learning to be like a great sloshing around of wise water that ebbs and flows through universities. I am glad that Pearson will be 'teaching' degrees in its offices. I teach (and learn) anywhere. I want Tesco to offer a 'value' range of bite-size education that can be 'consumed' between the beans and the frozen desserts. Long live horizontal, punk learning, I say.




Tuesday 7 August 2012

Experience and learning

Is this a record? It's more than five years since my previous post. I started this blog as a technical exercise - and as a way of coming to terms with the trauma of moving suddenly from a big city to a small town. I recovered from that trauma by entering a far greater one - unanticipated life-changing illness.

I have learnt and experienced so much since then. I'm still in Crediton but I have probably reached a position of equanimity towards it. Nowadays it seems to be a mere launching pad in two directions: up the M5 to Bristol; along the A30/303 to London. But there are quiet times when I simply sit, work, write, think. Or just look out of my garden office window. On warm bright days I can glimpse the tree-lined hill between a new build and the corner of the other half of our semi. Occasionally buzzards swirl above the hill. A St George's flag endorsed by JJB droops in the neighbour's garden. Right now I am listening to DeYarmond Edison.

Since my last entry I have had a kidney transplant from my oldest son, seen two children married, become a grandfather twice, had countless books and articles published, and have returned twice to the classroom. Almost none of these things would I have expected five years ago. Surprise on this scale could make a mockery of planning.

I have returned to this blog because I wanted to share my renewed passion for education and learning. I was going to start a new blog. But then it occurred to me that my view of education has moved so from its starting point that I no longer know where the boundaries are between education and everything else. This year I returned to the classroom with my own Year 11 class. I was desperate to get them their C grades (they were less desperate it seemed). I wondered what was standing in their way. I decided it wasn't just something that could be defined in terms of the 'normal' mechanics of learning and progress. The barriers were largely psychological and were to do with emotions, ambitions, self-belief and the limitations of any sort of learning that could be rationally expected to take place at pre-ordained times and places. I started this blog originally to make sense of experience, to learn through articulation and reflection. In short, it was all about learning.

So, here is a blog that will twist and turn from its origins, and hopefully enlighten learning in its broadest sense. Let's see.

Monday 16 April 2007

Pedestrian Crossings

During the years we lived in Bristol the streets were gradually filled with road-markings, traffic-calming measures and pedestrian crossings. Gradually the message became clear: pedestrians had rights that should be respected, revered even.

What a contrast when we arrived in Crediton! Here, many streets have no pavements at all; others have a pavement down one side only, and even that pavement is liable to sudden termination just at the moment when a pedestrian's life is at its most exciting - road junctions, sharp bends, and so on.

Yes, I think the local authorities are to be congratulated: there are so few obstacles to impede the natural progress of motor vehicles, and drivers' freedom to command the roads and intimidate pedestrians remains virtually unfettered.

I love to cruise down the high street and watch pedestrians leaping desperately across the last eight feet to safety as I bear down on them, perhaps just giving them a quick splash from the puddles that form gratifyingly on rainy days. And when I'm in the mood, I can't tell you what a kick I get out of pausing to wave a cowering old lady across my path in a most gracious and condescending manner.

Yes, it strikes me that the councillors and officials must be a brave lot. How easy and cowardly it would have been to acknowledge that the high street is well-used by shoppers who often need to get from one side to the other; how easy it would then have been to decide to place a couple of pedestrian crossings at strategic points - say outside the Record Shop and Adams - and to make the high street simple and safe for pedestrians and sheer frustration for drivers. That's what they have done in just about every other town or city I have ever been to. But no, our local councillors resisted those easy options, and even provided a bit of entertainment for drivers by narrowing the road at a couple of points to tempt pedestrians into the paths of cars. I really can't say how impressed I've been.

Incidentally, someone told me that my irony would be lost on Crediton.

Wednesday 11 April 2007

Psst!.......Are you in favour of Tesco?

On Good Friday morning I woke with a distinct hankering for hot cross buns. "Well we haven't got any," announced the other half of the bed.

"In that case, I'll go down to Tesco Express and see if they've had a little more foresight than we have," I replied.

"Huh! There's no way they'll have any left." Did I detect a tone of triumph?

Now, I'm not sure what I think about Tesco, but one thing I do like about them is that they really do try to give people what they want. In fact they seem to know what you want before even you know. Many a time I have wandered round one of their stores and been struck by a brand-new desire: tinned tomatoes that were organically grown in Andalusia; a kitchen towel that is not only moderately absorbent but is also printed with the colours of the England football team; mature cheddar cheese bejewelled with mint choc chips, and so on. The amazing thing is that very often, shortly after being struck with one of these strange desires, I come across its satisfaction prominently displayed on an aisle end.

So, anyway, I threw on what oddments of clothing the floor-drobe offered and skipped down to Tesco Express in search of hot cross buns. They had a whole, specially constructed cardboard rack of them in two varieties. It was then I noticed something very strange: the staff were dressed even more outlandishly than I was; for some reason Tesco had decided that Good Friday was Blues Brothers day and had clad its staff accordingly.

I took my precious hot cross buns to the counter where the checkout lady was only in half-hearted costume: black tie and white shirt under a Tesco uniform top.

"Blues Brothers day, eh?" I hailed her cheerfully. She merely winced, definitely not in the spirit of Belushi and Ackroyd. "And the connection with Easter?" I probed. She just raised her eyes to heaven, bleeped my buns and said nothing. I ran through the possible connections between Easter and The Blues Brothers: the beginning of Spring, the crucifixion of Christ, general exuberance? Nothing worked, and I have never worked out this mystery.

Of course, mentioning Tesco in Crediton is always risky. A number of people I have met have come round to the subject eventually and they are very non-commital until they know my views. I have come to the conclusion that if you oppose Tesco you are probably arty, nostalgic or old; everyone else is in favour. All I know is that when Tesco opened a huge store in our neighbourhood in Bristol in the late eighties about half of the local shops shut over the next three years. The ones that stayed open were - in the main - the ones that were any good. After a few years new local shops started opening, but they were selling different things: hair-cuts and meals mainly.

I find it hard to get passionate about the issue. I'm an Aldi and Lidl man myself. Build a couple of those and I'd be more than happy.

Wednesday 4 April 2007

Solicitors, vets and butchers - but not necessarily in that order

Why are there so many solicitors in Crediton? I read that the crime rate is low, so what are they doing? Perhaps the divorce rate is lucratively high. Perhaps there are a lot of disputes between neighbours.

I also wonder at the number of vets. I suppose I might expect a lot of vets with agriculture all around the town; perhaps there are lots of cows and sheep to mend. But I saw remarkably few of those animals in the waiting room at West Ridge Veterinary Practice when I arrived with my daughter, clutching the family hamster.

Back in Bristol you just turned up in visiting hours, joined the queue and endured pet Beirut for the next hour or so: fat labradors snapping at hissing, caged fur-balls; grumpy rabbits thumping the walls of their boxes; pythons coiled around tattoed owners. Here in Crediton you make an appointment. "Peter to see the vet at 5:45," I announced as we strolled into the practice.

"Ah yes," said the receptionist uncertainly. "Peter who?"

"He hasn't got a surname," I replied. "He's a hamster."

Within three minutes we were already in the surgery with Peter being examined carefully by the new vet who was clearly very nervous around hamsters.

"How much will this cost?" I inquired.

"About £10."

"And a new hamster.......?"

Apparently - according to my daughter - this was not a line of thinking that was either acceptable or moral. Apparently I was confusing my thinking about damaged hamsters with my thinking about damaged cars.

Actually I am very fond of animals, and that is why I make regular visits to the two butchers in the High St. Incidentally, I am sure that they are, in fact, the same shop. I have often noticed staff from one scurrying along the road and disappearing into the other.

Anyway, I was waiting to be served the other day when my eye was drawn to the posters that render various meat-yielding animals in diagramatic form with their sections marked and labelled, e.g. topside, ribs, flank. Now that is callous. How would we feel if we visited the surgeon and he had similar charts of the human body marked up with his favourite cut lines?

"I'll cut along this dotted line down your flank. And here around your loin." How would you feel? I know I'd feel as nervous as a vet with a homicidal hamster. By the way, it turned out the family hamster was a girl.