I’m fond of the old saying, ‘Live by the sword, die by the sword’ – not least because the noun can be easily replaced. Let’s substitute it with ‘data’. Live by the data, expect to die by the data. Well, ‘die’ might be a bit strong…
That notion’s struck a chord with me recently, particularly in social media discussions where teachers try using data to resolve disagreements on complex issues. Now, I make no qualms about stating where I disagree with common practice.
I taught a guided reading carousel for three weeks before throwing my hands in the air and declaring the whole thing bonkers. 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 these aren’t incontestable truths. They’re merely my opinions, based on experience.
I’m happy for others to tell me where they think I’m wrong. Sometimes I even listen. But there’s one surefire way of having me 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 trying to make those who would judge schools and teachers recognise that there’s much more to good teaching and learning than simple test outcomes. (Though for me, that’s another area of disagreement with colleagues; I think tests can be a good thing, and am glad of the Y6 SATs – I’m less persuaded by Y2).
Underpinning that view is a recognition that data tells us only a tiny part of the picture.
In my final year of teaching at my first school, the data seemed to show that my class had made over four years of progress in maths in just one year. Even my arrogance didn’t extend to me believing that. We all know that we can make great strides with a pupil, only to see no reflection of it in the data, and that the reverse can equally be true.
If your argument for using a pencil in maths is that last year over 90% of your school reached the expected standard, that won’t convince me. 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. Your school could have a high-attaining intake with supportive parents. Maybe your school never teaches anything but English and maths? Perhaps you don’t realise how brilliant you are, and just put it down to pencils. Maybe you cheated?
It’s likely that none of these are quite true, but what’s certain is that the data in your lovely graphs show tell me little about what works.
By all means, disagree with me. 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.
