It is becoming increasingly difficult to sort the real from the bogus in education. Whether one looks at people, achievement, or even history, the public relations industry is hard at work.
One of the reasons I like doing research is that at least it is an attempt to find out what is really happening, though researchers themselves are only human and can still give a distorted version of events.
Politicians, too, often blacken the past so they can glorify the present and future. Once we were the dunces of Europe, they say. Now we are the intellectual giants of the solar system, or will be if you just give us one more term in government.
This is understandable, because schools do the same. Is there a mission statement anywhere in the land that states: “Some people here have just lost it, as we slide irrevocably down the slope of indifference”? Of course not. In public statements people present themselves in their best light, and truth may be gently massaged.
It is becoming very difficult, for example, to tell whether standards for all pupils are going up. This is because teachers are being reluctantly pressed into strategies for beefing up league table positions, such as concentrating on pupils at the borderlines.
Examination boards , too, are fearful of their competitive position in the examinations market-place.
So they are unwilling to allow bona fide external researchers to re-mark their papers to see if standards are slipping.
Where so much is at stake and image is vital, there can be no solution to the annual wrangle about whether rising success rates are the result of greater efforts by candidates and their teachers, or grade inflation.
A high-stakes system, where schools are likely to be vilified, often unfairly, nurtures pretence and even dissimulation. Any honest confession of facing a difficulty is seen as an incurable weakness. So only the courageous dare to admit that all may not be well. In a healthy society, this is precisely what ought to happen. Problems should be in the open, so everyone can rally round and support.
Pupils, too, are under pressure. So it becomes more difficult to trace coursework plagiarism, and the Internet freely advertises assignment-writing services.
I once read an essay entered for a competition by a 10-year-old. It began and ended in 10-year-old mode, but the middle was full of statements about “householders in England and Wales”. Some plagiarism is more subtly done and harder to detect.
Headteachers complain about inexact references when a school, anxious to be rid of someone, provides a glowing testimonial. Many years ago, a college of education gave a reference for a final-year student which simply stated:
“She excels at any game which does not involve the use of a ball.” Nowadays lawsuits would fly, so the tutor would be more guarded.
In these circumstances it is sometimes the smart public relations people who make progress up the educational ladder. Fortunately, the best leaders in education have got there on merit, rather than via a carefully sculptured image, skill at crawling, or willingness to be a quisling.
There are some notable exceptions. I can think of one or two people, promoted beyond their modest talents, whose reference might most honestly have read: “As a crawler he leaves caterpillars standing”.
I often tell applicants for senior posts the story about the turkey and the bull.
One day a bull noticed a turkey standing under a tree, looking rather morose.
“Alas,” the turkey remarked,“I’ve got wings, but I can’t fly.”
“Nonsense,” replied the bull,“It’s just a matter of willpower and the right diet. All you have to do is nibble at my droppings, which are full of the most powerful nutrients, and then be absolutely determined.”
The turkey was sceptical, but did as she was told. She nibbled at the bull’s droppings, flapped her wings energetically and managed to lurch on to the bottom branch of the tree.
“What did I tell you?” said the bull.
“Ah yes,” replied the turkey,“but this is hardly flying. I’m only six feet off the ground.”
The bull exhorted her to try again. Eventually, after many cowpats and colossal flapping, the turkey reached the very top of the tree. Utterly exhausted, she stood there in triumph as the bull bellowed its congratulations.
At this moment the farmer arrived, saw the turkey standing proudly at the top of the tree, picked up his shotgun and killed it stone dead.
The moral of the story is: bullshit may get you to the top of the tree, but it won’t keep you there.
