{"id":375,"date":"2021-04-23T11:58:41","date_gmt":"2021-04-23T10:58:41","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/whs-blogs.co.uk\/sports-blog\/?p=375"},"modified":"2023-01-11T09:43:58","modified_gmt":"2023-01-11T09:43:58","slug":"a-school-isnt-a-building-its-a-shared-culture","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/whs-blogs.co.uk\/heads-blog\/2021\/04\/23\/a-school-isnt-a-building-its-a-shared-culture\/","title":{"rendered":"\u2018A school isn\u2019t a building \u2013 it\u2019s a shared culture\u2019"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

What is a school, anyway?<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The notion of \u2018school\u2019 is something everyone understands. No one ever asks me \u2018what do you do as a teacher?\u2019 because they themselves had teachers, and themselves went to school. We all know (or think we do) therefore what schools look, smell and sound like; our own children go to school, too, and so we experience all over again our understanding of the \u2018schoolness\u2019 of schools.\u00a0But,\u00a0for what have become very obvious reasons over a much longer time than any of us would have wished for, we have all had to reassess this idea of \u2018school\u2019. School has become the kitchen table, the spare room, the makeshift table in the shared bedroom; and so, without our children in our schools, educators have been thinking about what schools truly\u00a0are<\/em>. If they are no longer buildings, or physical structures, if they are not about\u00a0gathering together\u00a0young people under one roof, if they are not about noise and bustle, and shared activity: then what are they? And what is teaching, if the freedom we once had to roam the classroom, to crouch beside the struggler, to eyeball the transgressor, or step into the space of the sad and support them, has been temporarily taken from us?\u00a0\u00a0

When you take away the shell, what remains at the heart of a school?\u00a0

Well, in my view, it is its culture, and a school which can create an active, thriving culture will therefore continue to thrive through any pandemic, no matter how lengthy, because each student – despite sitting individually and separate in their own bedroom as they learn – is still\u00a0at school.\u00a0<\/em>They instinctively understand and feel what being part of that school means and what the corresponding values-driven expectations of them are.\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Learning as social<\/strong>\u00a0
In Carpenter\u2019s \u2018A Manifesto of Excellence in Schools\u2019 we read that \u2018learning is inherently a social process, so as a school, improvement is dependent on working together. When learning is social, we unlock our own and each other\u2019s creativity, are motivated because great work is done together, and grow stronger because of the interdependence we have on each other\u2019s ideas, generously shared and valued\u2019.\u00a0

As a manifesto for a staff body, that\u2019s\u00a0pretty powerful; but as a manifesto for a classroom, it\u2019s nuclear. It sums up that each of our classes is a little, interdependent network of people, sharing and valuing each other\u2019s ideas\u00a0in order to\u00a0improve.\u00a0

And, if learning is social in this\u00a0particular way, then the creation of an atmosphere and learning identity for each of our classes, the building of that team, is crucially important. We\u2019re not just teaching a set of individuals who happen to be in a group together because we can\u2019t afford to educate everyone individually, as this country\u2019s fixation with differentiation might lead us to believe. Rather, the strength lies in the very fact of the group\u00a0itself ,and\u00a0it is therefore our job to find out how that group will tick, how it will work together toward that \u2018interdependent network of people\u2019 of whom Carpenter writes. Perhaps\u00a0this is why, famously, John Hattie\u2019s research on class size led him to the conclusion that it makes little to no difference: because it is the group atmosphere, the joy of learning created by the teacher who loves teaching, which counts \u2013 not how much individual attention is given to them. This doesn\u2019t mean we shouldn\u2019t be encouraging independent learning \u2013 quite the opposite \u2013 instead, the group dynamic is created where the notion of individual\u00a0exploration is encouraged, is the very air that is breathed, with everyone buying into this shared endeavour. One example would be around the theme of questioning: differentiating our questions as practitioners, so that individuals are catered for, is often pushed as the holy grail. But how much more effective to create a questioning culture: if students are encouraged to ask questions of each other, without it seeming uncomfortable or awkward; if they are accustomed to you responding with \u2018well, what do YOU think\u2019, when they ask you a question; if they are used to you re-framing their questions with \u2018is there a better question you could ask here?\u2019; if \u2013 even better – they are used to you writing one word up on the board and then asking \u2018what am I going to ask you about this?\u2019: all of that builds toward a shared culture of questioning and curiosity.\u202f\u00a0\u00a0

Creating a shared culture<\/strong>\u00a0
And this creation of a shared culture\u00a0has to\u00a0be more important now than ever \u2013 because without physically being together, we need to hang on to the\u00a0feeling<\/em>\u00a0of learning as a social, human feeling; we can\u2019t be with each other, but we can absolutely keep the culture of each of our individual classes, and thus the culture of our schools, alive. As\u00a0Pirsig\u00a0says in \u2018Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance\u2019,\u00a0If a factory is torn down but the rationality which produced it is left standing, then that rationality will simply produce another factory. If a revolution destroys a government, but the systematic patterns of thought that produced that government are left intact, then those patterns will repeat themselves\u2026There\u2019s so much talk about the system. And so little understanding.\u2019<\/em>\u00a0

Schools are not buildings, they\u2019re not people factories: they\u2019re patterns, they\u2019re systematic patterns of thinking and learning and being together \u2013 and if we can establish as part of a culture the systematic pattern of thinking that teaching and learning is about joy and curiosity, questioning and wonder, then that will remain, whatever the circumstances.\u00a0\u00a0

And then (perhaps even more crucially, looking at what is happening in our world today) it must be our duty to establish a culture that looks to those young people\u2019s later lives, and the contributions they will go on to make to their own communities and to society more generally. It is our job not just to help them to learn, but to help them to develop an inner compass of values which will guide them, that they develop because of their school, and then take with them, instinctively, for the rest of their lives. Values of integrity, of self-belief tempered by humility, of strength that is equated with compassion and ally-ship. We must equip those of our young people lucky enough to have access to outstanding education with what they will need not just\u00a0themselves<\/em>\u00a0to thrive, be happy and successful, but allow others to do so as they look to shape a more equitable world for all.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

 
Thinking in Systems<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I have been reading a book called \u2018Thinking in Systems: A Primer\u2019, edited by the Sustainability Institute, which brings together the work of a scientist called Donella Meadows, sadly posthumously, and\u00a0really\u00a0it\u2019s about finding patterns in scientific research and thinking which help us consider the communities we lead and live in.\u00a0\u00a0

In it, Meadows writes this:\u00a0
\u00a0
\u2018Early on in teaching about systems, I often bring out a Slinky. In case you grew up without one, a slinky is a toy \u2013 a long, loose spring that can be made to bounce up and down, or pour back and forth from hand to hand, or walk itself downstairs.\u00a0
I perch the Slinky on one upturned palm. With the fingers of the other hand, I grasp it from the top, partway down its coils. Then I pull the bottom hand away. The lower end of the Slinky drops, bounces back up again, yo-yos up and down, suspended from my fingers above.\u00a0\u00a0
\u2018What made the Slinky bounce up and down like that?\u2019 I ask students.\u00a0
\u2018Your hand. You took your hand away,\u2019 they say.\u00a0
So I pick up the box the Slinky came in, and hold it the same way, posed on a flattened palm, held from above by the fingers of the other hand. With as much dramatic flourish as I can muster, I pull the lower hand away.\u00a0\u00a0
Nothing happens. The box just hangs there of course.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Now once again. What made the Slinky bounce up and down?\u2019\u00a0
The answer clearly lies within the Slinky itself. The hands that hold it release some behaviour that is latent within the structure of the spring itself.\u2019\u00a0

And that is what a school\u00a0really is.\u00a0<\/em>It\u2019s\u00a0first of all\u00a0that guiding hand, the hand which shapes each spring within a shared culture, so that it develops within each and every student who attends our school, and then stays within them as they step out into the wider world, away from our direct guidance. Whilst they are in school, they have the benefit of our guiding hand. But eventually we must let them go, releasing them just like those slinkies and trust they will propel themselves with purpose and energy, going on to think, explore and behave to others in the ways their school culture has encouraged them to do.\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

This article was previously published in TES.<\/em><\/strong> <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

What is a school, anyway?  The notion of \u2018school\u2019 is something everyone understands. No one ever asks me \u2018what do you do as a teacher?\u2019 because they themselves had teachers, and themselves went to school. We all know (or think … Continued<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":387,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_mi_skip_tracking":false},"categories":[4],"tags":[57,58,49],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/whs-blogs.co.uk\/heads-blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/375"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/whs-blogs.co.uk\/heads-blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/whs-blogs.co.uk\/heads-blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/whs-blogs.co.uk\/heads-blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/whs-blogs.co.uk\/heads-blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=375"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"http:\/\/whs-blogs.co.uk\/heads-blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/375\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":388,"href":"http:\/\/whs-blogs.co.uk\/heads-blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/375\/revisions\/388"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/whs-blogs.co.uk\/heads-blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/387"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/whs-blogs.co.uk\/heads-blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=375"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/whs-blogs.co.uk\/heads-blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=375"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/whs-blogs.co.uk\/heads-blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=375"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}