By their objectives ye shall know them: Part 1

By their objectives ye shall know them: Part 1

Terry Locke

“Ye shall know them by their fruits”. Matthew, 7:16.

“Orwell is renowned for what he wrote against – authoritarianism and totalitarianism, the corruption of language and politics by lies and propaganda (and sloppiness), the erosion of the privacy that underlies liberty.” Rebecca Solnit (2021), Orwell’s Roses.

The last time Millie and I were visited by a pīpīwharauroa (shining cuckoo), it flew at full speed into a glass door in our dining room. Deceived by the transparency of the glass, it failed to recognise until too late what it was up against. It lay on the floor, stunned but still alive. It appeared happy to be cradled in Millie’s hand until ready to rejoin what post-humanists like to call the “more-than-human” world.

Our unsolicited encounter with this small bird was brought to mind when I scanned the Ministry of Education Curriculum Newsletter for September 2024. It opens with a mihi, invoking the return of the pīpīwharauroa, and announcing to all that a “great and long Spring [sic] is here”. It was at this point that I started thinking about George Orwell and his invention of “Newspeak”, his term for the official language of Oceania, a totalitarian superstate. Aotearoa’s sudden slide in the direction of totalitarianism latterly has caught me by surprise. I keep looking for boxes that have yet to be ticked. (Capitalising spring connects with Solnit’s reference to “sloppiness” above.)

The mihi is not a signal that the Government is asserting a commitment to te ao Māori. (Allowing Elizabeth Rata even to have a say in the MAG’s remodelling of the English curriculum, let alone lead it, suggests the opposite – a commitment to marginalising taha Māori and te reo.) The mihi is propaganda. In announcing the arrival of a “great and long Spring”, it is effectively constructing the work done by countless people during the initial curriculum refresh process as the product of a unenlightened winter of discontent. Even more, it has called into the question the entirety of Aotearoa’s proud legacy of educational thought and practice.

Let’s look at some more Newspeak. For those of you who are less than fluent in this misuse of language, I will provide a kind of translation and commentary in square brackets.  

As you begin to implement change, there is no expectation of perfection on day one, especially for those schools who have not done structured literacy before, it’s just important to make a start. We acknowledge people will be at different stages of readiness to implement changes next year. [The addressee is a teacher. “We” is a writer employed, presumably by the Ministry, who uses run-on sentences {see the end of the first sentence}. The writer loves the expression “to implement change”, so teachers should feel flattered that they are being called upon, with some urgency, to perform the role of implementer even whey they have had no input into the changes and may have misgivings about them. The writer (or whoever they represent) is wonderfully tolerant of imperfection, especially on the first day of the implementation of the brave new spring which is heralded in the mihi. Schools who have not done “structured literacy” before are in a kind of special needs category of imperfection. It is possible that their imperfection will be tolerated for up to a week or more. Apart from the issue of run-ons, which we might consider a minor editing issue, there is a serious issue with the noun phrase “structured literacy”, which makes no grammatical sense. Literacy is a complex set of competencies, strategies, understandings and dispositions that do not allow for structuring. One can, however, talk about structuring a paragraph, or a report, or an argument, or a sequence of activities in a lesson. It is possible, of course, to structure a sequence of lessons drilling into children letter sound combinations using boring texts unrelated to the Aotearoa context. Maybe that is what “structured literacy” is.]

Ultimately, we know change will take sustained focus and investment. We’re committed to helping you make sense of what’s required and continuing to provide you with access to a range of supports so you can make a start next year and build from there or go faster if you are ready. [The writer is not only tolerant of imperfection and patient, but also understanding of the “sustained focus and investment” required to understand the ungrammatical phrase “structured literacy”. As teachers, of course, you are likely to be a bit slow on the uptake anyway, so big brother or sister will be there by your elbow helping with the thought control {Pink Floyd.} Speed is of the essence, which is why we have decided to either sack or marginalise the experienced practitioners and experts in the field whose views on literacy learning are at odds with the vested interests (including private companies) who are driving these changes.]

Together, the Ministry and ERO will work with you to understand how you are Getting Ready to implement the changes, including the successes you are having, challenges you are facing, and tailoring additional support as needed. [Again, it is being made clear that teachers are bears of very little brain, so will need assistance to help them even understand how they are doing in respect of the capitalised project of “Getting Ready”. The capitalisation is a clue that teachers are being conscripted in what is essentially a kind of crusade. GR might stand for "Gospel Revival"; but whose gospel? Rest assured, that if your thinking about teaching doesn’t change straight away, you will be offered further honeyed thought control to induce compliance. Remember that classical professionalism – expertise, autonomy and altruism – is no longer relevant at this time. Expert knowledge is being redefined by a sect; you are expected to conform with these changes; and the good of your pupils will be sidelined as they are homogenised into a one-size-fits-all version of literacy instruction. It might be thought of as comparable to the WC's {Weird Coalition's} public health wrecking ball with its Creed of Need whitewashed to remove cultural considerations. ]

In 1984, while teaching English at Northcote College, I was privileged to be inspected by Greg Taylor, who had been a distinguished History scholar and went on to become a principal at Mt Albert Grammar school. Greg was a school inspector from 1983 to 1988. He also happened to be a boyhood acquaintance. We both grew up in Oxton Road, Sandringham, and sat University Scholarship the same year. The prospect of his watching me teach was not remotely daunting.

I call it a privilege because it locates me in an era when becoming a professional as a teacher was relatively uncomplicated. What I expected from Greg Taylor was a conversation where I received feedback on my lesson and where he showed interest in the aims I brought to  it. I was not disappointed.

Our reference point at the time was the English: Forms 3-5: Statement of Aims. It was a document that was 14 years in the making and the outcome of many consultations with teachers and academics from various disciplines. Its salient features included the recognition of eight modes of language (listening, speaking, reading, writing moving, watching, shaping and viewing) and three broad language aims:

1. To increase each student’s ability to understand language and use it effectively

2. To extend each student’s imaginative and emotional responsiveness through language.

3. To extend each student’s awareness of ideas and values through language.

For each of these aims, the slim curriculum document offered examples of objectives. For example, under aim one students were deemed to need to: “develop competence in all language modes”; “recognise and be sensitive to the effects of social, cultural, and technological changes on language”. These are just two of 11 objectives for this aim.

Now here’s the thing. Each of the language aims had a focus on value-addedness. That was my job as a professional. There was no directive to equate the objectives with age or stage. The assumption was that they were apt objectives for any of my students in Forms 3-5. My job was to produce a unit of work to contextualise one or more objectives, and then fit the learning activities to the child.

This latter aspect of my professional life enabled altruism. The structure of the Statement of Aims (that word again) offered me a good deal of autonomy. And expertise was not something narrow and thrust upon me, but rather something I was expected to have or develop through in-service continuing education of various, readily available sorts.

I offer this instance from my early professional life, without nostalgia but to indicate the conditions which can allow for teacher professionalism to flourish. This is in marked contrast to what has been happening here in Aotearoa in the last eight months or so.

In the second part of this essay, my focus will be the way in which words like “outcomes” and “objectives” can be hijacked in ways which deprofessionalise teachers and marginalise their expertise. I will be taking the concept of accountability and dust off the meaning it has for teachers who are attempting to be professionals in the classical sense – a sense that David Seymour, in his demeaning attacks on teachers, appears to have no understanding of.