What makes a good school?

This article by Canon John Hall explores the importance of values and ethos in schools, focusing on staffing. It was first published in the Church Times, October 2002.

'Who is the most important person in a school?' The question was asked at interview for the post of diocesan director of education. One candidate said 'the pupil'; another said 'the head'. I don't remember that either got the job but neither gave the wrong answer. The school is there for the pupils; for some of them, it's their only chance in life. So they are most important. It's not there for the teachers, even if it's their whole life. And it's certainly not there for the head, even though, since the head is the life and soul of the school, appointing a head is the most important thing the governing body will ever do.

Headteachers have changed dramatically, as have schools. The inspection regime, introduced ten years ago, and targets for pupils' achievements, introduced over the last five years, have seen to that. A sign of these changes, for anyone with a Church Times, is in the advertisements for heads. Some years ago you would expect to see the hope expressed that a head would serve 'our happy and caring school' or even enjoy living in the school's 'lovely neighbourhood'. Advertisements were attractive, rounded, soft, without any mention of achievement, drive or success. By contrast recently a school that described itself as having a talented, enthusiastic and dedicated team, a proactive and supportive governing body and PTA, children eager to learn and a strong community spirit was looking for 'a committed and forward-thinking leader, an excellent communicator and strong leader'. This hard-edged language was softened a little by the wish that the new head would make teaching 'fun'. I hope the governing body found the right person. And I was left wondering about that word 'fun'. I realized it stood proxy for the old word 'happy'. But the advertisement used it in the context of the experience of the teachers. No doubt their enthusiasm and commitment communicates itself to the pupils. But for me this is what encapsulates the changed emphasis: learning is 'fun' not when the aim is to keep children happy but when there are high expectations of them, high challenge and high support. Children don't enjoy drifting through school.

By contrast with ten years ago, there is now a strong sense of what makes a good school: it is one that achieves its targets in public tests and exams and does well in the league tables. This clarity of expectation has brought the new hard language to schools. The targets themselves are ambitious, so that a good school cannot now be 'coasting', and schools 'in challenging (or extremely challenging) circumstances' get targeted support. There's a mighty cascade of targets. David Blunkett set targets for the Department for Education (and Employment, in those days) when he was Secretary of State. The Department then broke down the targets to the level of the Local Education Authority, with particular expectations of each. The LEAs then set tailored targets for each of their schools. Schools generally now set targets for individual pupils. If the pupils make the grade, the schools and the LEAs succeed and the Department achieves its national targets. They were ambitious and David Blunkett said he would resign if they were not met in five years (they weren't quite, but he'd moved on anyway).

This high level of public expectation and accountability has put a great strain on the education system. But there is no doubt that something had to be done. Lord Dearing points out that there are seven million adults in Britain who are functionally illiterate, in other words who cannot look up their local plumber in the Yellow Pages. They have been failed by low expectations in the British education system. It may not be too late for them if the new local Learning and Skills Councils, working sometimes with the churches and other voluntary bodies, can find ways of reaching them. But succeeding generations must not be failed in the same way. The challenge was needed. But hard targets and measurable achievement could mean valuing only what can be measured. Is that all there is to it? Must the softer side be abandoned, the 'caring and sharing'? Or is that just for the Co-op?

This I think has presented a real dilemma for heads wanting to lead a good school that cares about more than exam results. How should they balance the demands of targets and public assessment with the wish for their school to be one that helps children grow into mature, fit, balanced, confident, self-aware and responsible citizens? One way, once proposed by the late Baroness Young in the House of Lords, would be to set targets for spiritual and moral development. That proposal led to quite a debate and finally to the conclusion that there were some things that simply could not be measured. You might recognize and be able to describe maturity, courage, sensitivity but not to mark them out of ten. On the other hand a school could plan opportunities in the day and year that would help broaden pupils' awareness and understanding of the deeper and richer things of life: perhaps not exactly those moments when they 'turn but a stone and start a wing', though teachers could be helped to recognize and seize such moments.

There is another way of looking at things. It may seem a paradox. High expectations of success and achievement can only effectively be fulfilled in a school that prizes the individuality and integrity of each pupil. Put another way hard ends are best achieved by soft means; pupils prized for themselves, for their individual personality and spirit, will achieve better results. So the best head is one who can hold both together. The ability to do that is one of the intangibles often obscurely discerned in a Church school. For the best heads of Church schools this ability to have high expectations of pupils' achievement coupled with high value of them as individuals who need to grow spiritually and morally comes instinctively out of their own spiritual depth and confidence. It is fundamental to a Christian understanding of God and humanity, to a Christian anthropology. That is why a Church school needs a head for whom the Christian faith of the school is profoundly important. I don't think it can be faked. Lord Dearing's report The Way ahead was clear about the need for a supply of Christian heads. And despite anxieties in some governing bodies about the Human Rights Act and equal treatment legislation, the law explicitly allows the choice of Christian heads for Church schools. The School Standards and Framework Act 1998 gives the governors of a voluntary controlled or foundation Church school the power to discriminate in appointment in favour of someone who is 'fit and able to preserve and develop the [Christian] faith of the school'. In a voluntary aided Church of England school there can be discrimination in favour of a head who is a practising and committed Anglican; it is the same for all the teachers as well.

So much depends on the head, whose work in a Church school is a genuine Christian ministry. But they alone cannot make a good school and all their best work can all too easily be undermined by people who are sometimes seen as less important. What about the lunchtime supervisors? We used to call them 'dinner ladies'. It's when they feel marginalized, when the pupils, seeing them not fully part of the command structure, treat them badly, that it all breaks down. One emotional rant or good scream can turn months of hard work at good discipline through 'positive reinforcement' into temporary chaos. Contrary to some impressions created by the media, most schools are ordered, positive places most of the time. But the lunchtime supervisors are centre stage at lunchtime and they need to be in on the act. That's true for the schoolkeeper/caretaker/site-supervisor and the secretary and office staff: long-suffering, many of them, and of great kindness, not puffed up, vital.

Who else helps make a good school? Of course, the teachers, the increasing galaxy of learning support assistants, the other support staff, the clergy (and when do they get the necessary training?), the parents. I've mentioned the pupils. So that's more or less everyone... except then there are the governors - and the volunteers. In a primary school in a northern town, I met an unemployed father who is a school governor and who spends most of the day in the school, not very articulate but very much there, like so many other volunteers in schools, who help with everything from collating papers to reading to cleaning out the fish tank, a quiet star.