Does this image shock you?

Why do we still have this distinction between “books for boys” and “books for girls” on recommended reading lists in 2021? 

Surely, the only questions that matter when choosing a book for a child are: is it well written, is the story engaging, will my child be interested? 

This last question is the one where stereotypes persists. Are boys only interested in stories of adventure? Are girls only interested in stories of princesses? Of course not, and by assuming so, we are doing children a great disservice. 

Children should be presented with a variety of books to read. Books that expand their world view. Books with characters that inspire them rather than pigeonhole them.  If we do not ensure this happens, we risk perpetuating the stereotypes the writer of the book list in the image presents.

Publishers have a part to play in this question when they choose colours and images for the covers of their books. Who are they trying to appeal to? And most importantly, why are they limiting their audience? 

I challenge these stereotypes every term when I choose books for my book groups. And my students never fail to rise to the challenge and embrace the books I present. Surely, we should all be doing the same and banish the concept of gendered books to history?

If you would like to discuss children’s book and reading with other parents, please feel free to join this facebook group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/332049051724210

Don’t try to run before you can walk.  I am sure we have all heard this expression but have you ever thought about it in relation to 7+ entrance exams?  So often, I hear of both parents and tutors who use exam practice papers as their primary tool for preparing for exams.  Perhaps this makes sense to you.  Surely we all need to practise, right?  But how can you practise running if you haven’t mastered walking?

The 7+ entrance exam is an assessment of knowledge and skills in English, Maths and Reasoning.  In each of these areas, there are multiple competencies that must be learned at different levels.  Think of it like a toddler who first learns to crawl, then stand, then walk, and finally run.  If we take creative writing as an example, a child must learn to tell a story verbally and sustain that narrative (crawl).  Then they can begin to write their ideas down (stand).  Next, they will learn to improve their written work with mature and interesting vocabulary (walk).  And finally, they will be able to put all of this together and write a story to any given prompt in a specific time frame with correct spelling and grammar, and neat handwriting (run).  

Practise papers are a great tool to use in 7+ preparation but they should come at the point the child is learning to run, not when they are learning to crawl.  Building those foundation skills in increment steps first is vital to achieving success at the end.  I would like to see more tutors and parents focusing on these building blocks rather than beginning with practise papers.  Those that do will help children soar to the finish line rather than fall at the first hurdle.  

Over my long career, I have often come across students who are described as perfectionists.  These students have ranged in age from five to fifteen but all share the same characteristic: they will only present work when it is perfect.  Is “perfectionist” an accurate description of these students, or is there something else at the root of their behaviour?  And should we be supporting this desire for perfection or are we in fact doing a disservice to these students by not encouraging them to take risks? 

When we think of risk-taking, we often think of people who engage in extreme sports such as sky diving, free climbing or bungee jumping.  But the definition of risk-taking is to take action which involves risk in order to achieve a goal.  If we apply this to learning, any time a student puts out an answer for which they are unsure, they are taking a risk.  But they are also taking a step towards their goal of learning and achievement.  So how do we help “perfectionist” students view risk-taking in a positive light rather than something to be feared?  

As teachers, we are perfectly placed to identify students with this risk avoiding behaviour, and gently guide them to consider a new path to learning.  

1. Create a safe learning environment.  Students should trust their teacher to listen and explore new ideas and to value their input regardless of the perceived correct answer.  Mutual trust and respect is vital. 
2. Design situations where there is no right answer, only open-ended discussion. Build these into each session so that over time the student begins to take those more risky steps, putting their ideas out there.  
3. Lead by example.  Students should know that teachers are not always right but are fine with taking a chance on an idea and having it proved wrong.  Put your idea out there and encourage your student to disagree with you!

Risk-taking is a core life skill.  It is integral to an innovative and forward thinking society.  We need to encourage learners to move from their safe path in which they avoid all risk, and help them recognise it as an opportunity for development. 

In guiding parents through the 11+ entrance exam process, I am often asked what is the right time to begin purchasing and using practise papers.   To help parents understand why I ask them to delay doing this, I use the analogy of learning to cook.  

Look at this simple recipe for stir-fry:

Step 1: Finely chop or slice the vegetables into pieces roughly the same size. 

Step 2: Heat the oil in a large frying pan then fry the garlic and ginger for 1 min.

Step 3: Add the veg and toss to coat. Fry for 2-3 mins, then add the soy sauce and chilli sauce, if using, and mix well. 

Step 4: Cook for 2-3 mins more until the vegetables are tender. Stir in the prawns until cooked.

For most adults, following this recipe and producing a meal would be straight forward.  However, for a child who is learning to cook, there are a number of skills that would need to have mastered before they are able to make this recipe.  Have they learned to safely chop vegetables?  Do they know how to mince and chop garlic and ginger?  Can they tell when a vegetable is cooked through but not overcooked?  Do they know how to tell if a prawn is cooked?  To successfully follow this recipe, the must first learn the foundation skills of food preparation, food safety, and frying techniques.    

When a student is preparing for the comprehension portion of the 11+ exams, the foundation skills must be fully grasped before tackling practise papers. Learning how to understand and answer each type of question that they will encounter on the exam before they tackle whole papers will ensure they have success when they practise.  Do they know the PEE method of answering questions about tone of a passage?  Can they comment on language techniques used by an author?  Do they know how to answer “in your own words” questions?

Regular revisiting of each question type is also a must.  When you learned to chop an onion, did you get it perfect first time? 

My process for smooth 11+ comprehension learning, whether you are a tutor or a parent helping a student, is these 4 steps:

1. Spend time on each individual question type, becoming comfortable with what is being asked and how to answer.  Do one type of question at a time. (Note – this step should take the largest proportion of time)
2. Practise a whole comprehension paper that encompasses all question types.  Look for areas which need improvement and where skills have been forgotten.
3. Review the question types from step 2.
4. Practise whole papers, refining exam techniques.  

Ensuring the right skills are in place first before doing practice papers is like getting the right ingredients together for your recipe before you cook.  Both will lead to success! 

Today is the day that school children and parents are rejoicing.  It marks the end of home schooling.  Today is also the day that another group of children and parents are celebrating as it marks the return of home educating.  The terms “home schooling” and “home educating” are often used interchangeably, a fact that has long irked the home education community.  However, the pandemic has brought a new level of frustration as the media portrayed only one image home learning – and for the most part it was not a positive one.  
 
In the UK, home education in a mass sense began in the 1970’s and gained momentum in the 1980’s.  In 2019, it was estimated that between 90,000 and 130,000 children were being home educated in the UK, a figure that rises each year.  Despite media portrayal and the assumption that home educated children have been at an advantage during the pandemic as their educational provision has not changed, this massive group of children have faced a year of significant challenges equal to those of their schooled peers. 
 
As a parent who has been home educating for the last sixteen years, as well as an educator who has been involved with the home educated community, my heart has broken on numerous occasions over this pandemic period as I have watched the disruption to home educated children’s life unfold.  Contrary to the popular misconceptions, home educated students do not sit at a desk at home all day recreating the school experience.  While many students do formal learning through books or classes, most home educated students also have a wealth of activities that they attend throughout the week that are an integral part of home educating.  My own children have attended weekly: debate sessions at the Economist Headquarters, STEM sessions for First Lego League, philosophy sessions with the Philosophy Foundation, book groups, outdoor ranger activities,  and sports such as swimming.  This essential part of their home education learning stopped when the pandemic started. 
 
This week will mark the beginning of a return to true home education for 100,000+ children in the UK.  A return to the diverse learning activities that are an accurate representation of what home education is all about.  It will also mark the taking back of the phrase “home schooling” from something that has been portrayed in such a negative light to one of positivity and possibilities.  So as we rejoice at the return to the classroom for the UK’s school children, let us also restore the terms “home schooling” and “home educating” to the positivity they should convey.  

What exactly is imagination?  Imagination is defined as the faculty or action of forming new ideas, or images or concepts of external objects not present to the senses.  Is it possible to have no imagination?  There is indeed a very rare condition in which sufferers have no ability to visualise mental images – known as Aphantasia.  It is believed that only 1-3% of the population suffers with Aphantasia.  How then do we account for the much larger percentage of people who say they have no imagination?  

In an ideal world, all children will be stretched and challenged from an early age to develop their imagination into a powerful tool. However, we know this is not the case for all.  I often work with teenagers who are reluctant writers.  They tell me that they have no imagination, and are unable to think of ideas for creative writing.  This often goes hand in hand with a dislike of reading.  Do we accept that these students are unable to develop their imagination and must forever stare at a blank piece of paper with dread, or are there ways we can help older students?

Although we cannot turn back time, I do believe there are techniques we can use with our students to help them realise they do have an imagination:

1. Start with the concrete.  If a child tells you they cannot visualise an idea, then create it for them.  Give them a picture as a starting point.  Begin discussion with what they can see in the picture, then move on to discuss what might be just beyond the boundaries.  One of my favourite resource pictures depicts a wonderful woodland scene with rough stone steps leading up and out of sight.  What could be at the top of the steps?  Pictures of people in action lend themselves to thinking about what might happen next.  

1. Brainstorm.  So many students are reluctant to do this, and yet are surprised when they cannot just start writing.  Ask them to write down as many words and phrases that they can think of about a given subject, without worrying if they are actually going to use them in their writing.  There is no wrong word.  Once they get used to doing this, they can choose a selection of the words they have brainstormed as a starting point for writing.  The act of brainstorming itself will help stretch their imagination.  

1. Exercise daily.  Imagination is no different to any other muscle.  You need to use it little and often.  No-one is suggesting reluctant students need to write a story a day.  However, they can write something: a description, a journal entry, what they are having for lunch, or details about their favourite video game or movie.  What they write is less important than ensuring they flex that muscle.  

1. Read fiction.  Frequent reading has been shown to stimulate the right side of the brain and improve brain function.  There is no question that during reading students practise creating images in their mind, a vital step to creating their own ideas.  

Why does it really matter if some students don’t use their imaginations?  Can we not just accept their differences and encourage them in areas in which they do excel?  Without imagination, we have no innovation.  Imagination pushes discovery and understanding.  It opens the world to the possible in all things.  Shouldn’t we enable all students to be this creative?  To find that potential ​that is within themselves?

This morning I embarked on one of my favourite termly tasks: choosing the books for next term’s book groups.  I have been facilitating book groups for eleven years for children ages 8-16, and my lists lean almost exclusively to classic texts.  As well as praise from parents on the books I include, I regularly get questioned on my choice to eschew the plethora of modern texts available.  Why do classics get such bad press? 

Among the objections I have heard, my three favourite are:

• Classics are so sexist, racist, classist (insert your -ist here). Yes, they often are when viewed with our modern eyes.  However, they are also true to the time period in which they were written.  A wonderful fact that opens such rich discussion in my groups.  By placing the texts in context, we can help children understand how attitudes have changed over time.

• They have such old fashioned and difficult language.  I will have to get back up onto my well-worn soap box for this one. Vocabulary is the cornerstone to so much of educational development.  Classic texts help to not only expand a child’s vocabulary of known words, but also their ability to understand unknown words in context.  Classic literature contains more of the “Oxford 3000” (Oxford University’s list of the 3000 most important words to learn in English) than modern texts. Classic children’s literature provides our students with one of the strongest foundations available to learn vocabulary.

• The subject matter is so irrelevant to modern children. Is it really?  During my book groups, students are encouraged to discuss the wider themes that each book explores.  The themes they identify are the same fundamental human desires and conflicts that students face today.  There is comfort in knowing that people through the ages have experienced the same dilemmas, the same emotions and the same struggles.  

Am I suggesting children are fed a diet of only classic literature?  Of course not!  Reading widely through multiple genres should always be the aim for our students.  However, students will pick up modern texts to read themselves and are unlikely to need much encouragement to do so.  To ensure they also explore classic literature, parents and educators will need to play a part.  To do so, it might first be necessary to challenge your own views of classic literature.  

If, on reading this, you want to challenge your views, you might be wondering where to start.  Here are my top picks for classic literature, as well as some lesser known texts you might not have thought about.  

For young children: The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett (1911)
For pre-teens: Little Women by  Louisa May Alcott (1868)
For older teens: Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier (1938)

Top pick for:
Romance: Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë (1847)
Science Fiction: The Machine Stops by E.M. Forster (1928)
Mystery: The Moonstone by Wilkie Collins (1868)
Gothic: Frankenstein by Mary Shelley (1818)

Lesser known classics (in order of publishing date):
Evalina by Frances Burney (1778) 
The Scarlet Pimpernel by Baroness Orczy (1905) 
Arsène Lupin: Gentleman Burglar by Maurice LeBlanc (Originally published in French 1907)
The Invisible Man by H.G. Wells (1897)
The Lost World by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (1912)
The Maltese Falcon by Dashiell Hammett (1929)
The Chrysalids by John Wyndham (1955)
We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson (1962)

An article in the Guardian this week has caused quite a stir.  (Here in case you haven’t seen it https://www.theguardian.com/education/2021/feb/20/im-a-maths-lecturer-and-i-had-to-get-my-children-to-teach-me)  In this article, a best-selling novelist who teaches creative writing observes how “joyless” children’s learning of writing has become as it focuses on grammar.  She states that as a writer, she has found “nothing of value” in it.  

As a writer and teacher, I could not disagree more.  I grew up in a school system that put English grammar at the heart of its teaching.  I clearly remember diagramming sentences.  This did not stifle my creativity or stop my flow of words.  I am of course a sample of one, which is not very convincing when discussing a whole country’s way of learning.  However, as an English teacher, I see again and again the negative effect of assuming that grammar knowledge will somehow just “happen” in daily life.  

For many people, understanding how to use grammar correctly in both writing and speaking does just happen naturally.  These people are usually avid readers.  If you ask them if a sentence is correct, they just know if it is or isn’t even if they can’t verbalise the grammar rules behind it.  And they don’t need to.  How many times in your adult life are you asked to diagram a sentence and its grammar?  Probably never.  You are just expected to use grammar correctly.  

However, if you are not one of these people for whom grammar rules are assimilated naturally, your writing can start to unravel quite quickly.  Over the years, I have taught teenagers that fall into this category.  They generally don’t like reading, have not been taught grammar in a formal way, and their writing is far behind where it should be for their age group.  No amount of teaching creative writing will improve their written work when they cannot tell you what an adverb is, the rules of comma usage, or how to punctuate direct speech. Why does it matter, I hear you cry?  My reply is: How can a student express their ideas clearly and creatively if they do not have the tools to do so?  If a student does not know what an adverb is, how can they communicate the nuanced differences in their character’s behaviour?  If a student does not know how to use a comma to add an adjective clause, how can they effectively detail the setting they are describing?  

Am I advocating that students are just taught grammar day in and day out?  No, of course not.  Research by Exeter University (Myhill et al., 2013) demonstrated the benefits of relevant grammar when taught explicitly and in context. Teachers who contextualised the study of grammar within the reading of literature and discussed real life texts reported a positive impact on pupils’ writing and a deeper knowledge and understanding of language.

It is clear that teaching grammar needs to be integrated into both reading and writing activities so that children learn about grammar in context.  Here are some techniques I use when integrating grammar rules into English lessons:

• Think about why.  Use text extracts to look at a particular grammar rule and ask why the author has used it.  For example, I might highlight every comma in a descriptive passage and then discuss why each one has been used.  We talk about the rules as well as the effect the usage has on meaning and enjoyment of the passage.  

• Model grammar usage in your own writing.  In the above example, after discussion of the comma usage in the passage, I would then write a couple of sentences while the student is watching in which I model comma usage.

• Put it into practice.  Finally, the student would write their own sentences in which they apply the rules they have learned.  This should of course be followed by a discussion of the effect that their writing had on the reader (me!).

In an article (2013) on the Telegraph’s website entitled ‘It’s cruel not to teach children grammar’,  the author concludes in a way that says it best: 
​
At its worst, educational theory that rejects grammar does so because of a mad idea that children are noble savages better left to authenticity and the composition of rap lyrics…  Grammar sets them free. No one would think it a kindness to give a teenager a car without teaching her to drive, and that includes the rules of the road. 

I really enjoy public speaking.  I never realised I was actually in the minority in feeling this way until I was well into middle age.  I just assumed that everyone enjoyed sharing their opinions as much as I did!  As I became aware of how many adults fear standing up and speaking in front of others, I looked back over my experiences and tried to pinpoint why I did not fear it.  Thinking back, I realised that growing up in other countries and school systems where standing up in front of the class to speak was a regular occurrence, public speaking was the norm and not something to be feared.  
 
I had cause to think about this issue again recently when one London school, as part of their assessment process for entry into year three, asked prospective students to prepare a one minute talk on a subject of their choice to deliver in front of a group.  The shock and dismay this caused among parents surprised me.  While the general consensus was that this was too much pressure to place on such young children, I saw it as a great opportunity.
 
So why don’t we embrace public speaking in the UK and make it a normal part of every child’s day? Certainly, some secondary schools are placing a greater emphasis on activities such as debate to improve oracy skills.  Other programmes do reach down into primary age groups.  Of note is First Lego League, a STEM programme that I had the privilege of being involved in for many years.  Presenting the team’s ideas to judges is an integral part of this competition.  As a coach, I had the joy of watching shy children who felt they would be unable to stand up and speak become confident speakers, proud to share their ideas.  
 
However, while there are some excellent initiatives such as First LEGO League out there, not all children will have access to these types of programmes and nor should they have to take part in them to be able to develop these skills.  Focusing instead on developing oracy skills in all students from an early age so that they never have a chance to fear public speaking is a much more effective strategy.  
 
Public speaking is all about finding one’s voice and having the confidence to share it.  As an adult that feels this confidence, I can easily model and encourage this in children.  However, if you are an educator that fears public speaking, you may well avoid asking your students to find their voice as you imagine they share the same fears.  Instead, I urge you to find daily activities in your setting that encourage, normalise and give voice to your students, helping them to develop a life skill that will empower them where ever their future takes them.