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The worst experiment ever?

If education was an experiment, it would be the worst one ever designed, says Russell Hobby

Evidence in education. We’re all in favour of evidence-based policy, of research, of using the data. Unfortunately, in the modern era of “post-fact” politics we instead often get policy-based evidence. In large and complex sets of data, which pretty much sums up education, a little bit of selective vision can ensure we can always find a fact or two which support our predetermined view.

I am sure I am guilty of this as much as anyone. Indeed, the selective use of data breeds ever greater selection in an arms race of blinkered vision, as opponents of a particular position must counter the bias they see with an opposing bias of their own.

When I looked at the 2015 PISA data, published in December, my first reaction was that the lack of progress (from a good starting position) was a poor reflection on a decade of wrenching structural change, a “lost decade” when we should have focused on teaching quality. Government ministers looked at the data and saw that we hadn’t changed enough!

One of the dangers of the use of data for big policy decisions is the lack of really rigid control groups at the whole system level. If education policy was a grand experiment, it would be the worst designed experiment in history, with endless confounding variables and ever-changing metrics.

But what do you do when the data obviously in no way supports a policy that you are publicly committed to? That gets painful. Last year, the government decided that grammar schools were the answer. What the question was, no-one is entirely sure: they certainly do not contribute to social mobility. Perhaps the real question was “how do we protect our right flank from UKIP?”. In any case, PISA was unequivocal: selection doesn’t help disadvantaged students. The OECD secretary general, Angel Gurria, put it memorably: it might work with a sorting hat at a school of wizardry; it doesn’t work in the real world.

When even a selective reading of the data doesn’t support you, the only refuge is your gut instinct and personal anecdote, some sort of mythical “21st century grammar school” that is unlike anything tried before and therefore untested or, failing all that, “the will of the people”. Who cares about expertise?

Personal anecdote is a great scourge of evidence-based policy. It’s funny, we wouldn’t make health policy in this way, but there is a certain supposed familiarity with education that seems to breed contempt.

One senior official who based a great deal of policy on personal experience was our last chief inspector. Indeed, Sir Michael Wilshaw said on the radio at the end of his tenure that his goal was to replicate across the system what he did in his school. The head of a large urban secondary around the turn of the century knew exactly what was right in a village primary in 2016. It is a shame because Ofsted has a unique and detailed evidence base on practice in schools. This evidence should not be marshalled to support pre-existing views, but used to develop new well-founded positions and perspectives.

The new chief inspector, Amanda Spielman, received a lot of criticism for a quieter style, no teaching experience and a perceived lack of passion. If this means a chief inspector ready to reflect and learn, without “her way of doing things” and a lighter touch, then I believe that school leaders can only welcome this.

One of the big flaws of Ofsted’s current evidence base is the lack of engagement with outstanding schools while still simultaneously constraining their activity via its inspection framework. It doesn’t really know them but it does know what they should do. A great first step for the new inspector would be to end this. The solution is fairly simple – abandon the outstanding grade and encourage all good (and previously outstanding) schools to inspect each other regularly. This will spread good practice rapidly and constructively. We shall watch eagerly for signs of a more evidence based approach in government in 2017.

They’ve tried ignoring expertise and it has produced some notable mistakes. Let’s work together on something more durable.

  • Russell Hobby is general secretary of the National Association of Head Teachers. Visit www.naht.org.uk