“I honestly deffo got 30 points from Mrs Doughty for holding the door open!”, the eight-year-old boy insisted, his small exasperated face pleading with me. “And me! I got some!” said his friend, “but I got 50 points, for tidying the skipping ropes, from Miss Turner!” Towards the end of my time using the whole-school reward points system, this kind of thing was happening on a daily basis.
Children were claiming outlandish points in an attempt to win one of our Team Points Stars prizes for the most points won in the week, or the prestigious title Star of the Week, which would trigger a letter home from the headteacher - the highest honour in school.
Sometimes the children genuinely had been awarded points and couldn’t remember how many; sometimes they couldn’t remember by whom; sometimes it was all fiction.
The theory behind the system had been sound. As a school, we had wanted to streamline our rewards system, so a simple model was used - four houses, with (yes, you’ve guessed it) red, blue, green and yellow livery, and named after planets. Points were collected by individuals and awarded to their house, with a weekly prize for the top house.
Then, at the end of each term, the points were totted up and those in the house with the most points received an extra-special reward: a trip to the bowling alley or cinema, or even a sports party.
Points mean prizes
The problems began almost immediately. In hindsight, we had not been clear with staff what the points were to be awarded for - was it for good behaviour? An impressive piece of writing? Wearing shoes instead of trainers? There were just too many options.
And how many points to award? The policy said a maximum of 10 points, however this meant different things to different people. One child would be given a point for handing in a fiver they’d found in the playground, another would be given 10 for picking up a rubber from the classroom floor. It just wasn’t working.
A rethink was needed, and so a new system was unveiled. This was it, we thought - we had definitely cracked it.
Little yellow slips of paper carried by staff meant we had a written record of points awarded and the reason, whether the staff member was the class teacher or not. It was a surefire way to guarantee authenticity.
Fast-forward a week, and the welfare staff had run out of slips so were using anything and everything (including the back of shopping receipts). As a result, there were definite forgeries appearing; the same problems as before had returned.
Upon reflection, though, we realised that the logistical missteps were not the real issue. Whole-school reward systems need very careful thought. They tend to reward the unusual or the out of character rather than steady good behaviour. For example, Stuart is usually late back from break but he gets points today for being on time. What about the other 29 children who are promptly in their seats every single time? Sophie is a serial lesson disruptor but, today, she gets points for sitting through a task without incident. What about the other children who do that every single lesson?
And what message are we really sending to the Stuarts and the Sophies - that they should behave or arrive on time simply for points, not because it is the right thing to do? This could lead only to short-term impact rather than a long-term shift.
Nowadays, we don’t use reward points. It turns out that just saying “well done” can be enough. Our pupils now thrive on praise.
I think some points systems still have a place in classrooms - many of my colleagues use table points or marbles in a jar to encourage quick tidying or speed-up routines. As a whole-school system, though, it has to be carefully thought out in order to maximise the potential. At our school, we’ve moved on, and I think it’s been a great decision.
Lucy Moss is a key stage 2 leader in an inner-city primary school
