Why demanding excellence is the dumbest thing in the world: what happens when an overcooked education system backfires?

In the world of education, as in life, the expectation that anyone can be at the top of their game on a daily basis is a common fallacy that inevitably backfires, leading to nervous breakdowns and success inhibiting stress that I have known only too well. I myself am guilty of reaching for the stars and ending up finding only seven circles of hell, so it’s with a degree of interest I have witnessed Jonah’s school, once renowned for its “excellence” unravel in grand style since the summer holidays. Once a beacon school, branded by Ofsted as outstanding, this historically one form entry primary has since doubled in size, groomed under Gove’s Brave New Nightmare of expectations of excellence for everybody at all times time, or else.

With results that reflected it’s middle class catchment, once the smallest in the country, it was the go-to school for ambitious incomers who couldn’t afford the posh prep school up the road once they’d committed to a local mortgage, and thusly, the powers that be decided, necessarily, given the dearth of primary school places in the area, to extend this local super school. Millions of pounds were poured in, and we revelled in the fact that, having bought into the area at crippling expense, some yards away from the school’s front door (before he was born, I may add, before you accuse me of being a pushy wanker) Jonah would have a shiny new building, all unfinished wood and shiny coloured panels that will undoubtedly date accordingly. The dear old dragon who ruled the school with a kid covered iron rod oversaw the transition then retired, taking a lot of the old guard with her –  doughty matrons who’d grown up local and knew everyone’s names having taught their mother. A new super head was helicoptered in, all awards, good credentials and zero local connections, with liberal purple hair. The school began to grow.

New teachers came; the catchment area widened to include a good many high rises that are wedged between the million pound Victoria terraces. The Oftsted, when it came, returned only “good”. Parents were calmed – they’ve changed the criteria, we were told. “Outstanding” is now nigh on impossible to achieve. Right, we thought, happy enough. To be fair, since I returned to work in desperation when Ava turned four (Purple Hair kindly agreed that I was enough of a parental risk from chronic depression to take her into nursery full time a year early, so for that, I will always remember her fondly), I avoid the playground, and its pack of it-mums, zeds, yohurt weavers and chavs, like the plague. But on semi-annual parent teacher conferences, we read between the lines of Jonah’s progress – academically ahead of the game, but socially struggling, and were pleased at least that they were working to his strengths in maths, teaching him a year ahead, and not merely labelling him naughty.

But last year, the parent conference was ushered drive-thorugh style: we were allotted five minutes of harassed grimace, while the new teacher share (his regular teacher had gone part time) told me how difficult Jonah can be (you’re telling me?) with a look on his face that told me that he would very much like to tell me exactly what he thought in no uncertain terms.  I took an instant dislike to him, as had Jonah, who told me he often gets angry. But then, so do I, so I have to forgive even teachers their foibles.They are, despite being paid a wage and trained to be in loco parentis, only human .

And this is a point that has been proved resolutely over the last few weeks. First Purple Hair quit, on long term sick leave made permanent last week, citing family problems, and since she’d been practically commuting in from the Midlands, who can blame her, when shit, and life inevitably hit the fan? But then Mr Angry from Jonah’s form was made Acting Head my heckles rose, particularly when he sent out a “welcome to me” style newsletter saying what a great opportunity this presented for him, and how much was going to change at the school, when we were happy enough with it as it was, thanks.

Then, we received a carefully worded letter stating Key Stage 2 results had crumbled, blaming, in sugar coated terms, “vulnerable” children for dragging down results. Reading through the lines, it basically said, if you’re middle class you don’t have to worry, your child will be fine. But for a school that takes “looked after children” and SEN as a priority, results should probably not be a priority for parental judgement either. Again, I wasn’t bothered. Jonah is, on a good day, middle class. Ergo, he will be fine. But then, in a footnote, the letter also astated that an entire tranche of top tier management was also leaving. And I realised that things had got serious.

During the Gove administration, there have been several strikes over pay, pension and working conditions, and I have to say, as I battled long hours, arsehole bosses, poisonous HR departments and paltry pay in the private sector, I didn’t have a lot of sympathy for them. At the time, a bog standard teacher earned the same salary as me and had twice the holiday. But then, all that changed. If I was still a teacher, I guess there wouldn’t be the same chance of having my salary hiked up by nigh on ten grand just from learning how to play the recruiters off against one another. And I get to hide behind my computer on hangover days. I don’t envy teacher’s the need to be on top of their game day after day. I know as a parent I can’t manage it.

So when the top brass gave notice last week, I began asking questions, calling up other parents to find out what was going on. I was calmed on the phone by a mum on the PTA, who said there was no North Korean style coup going on, only a variety of disparate factors that had conjoined like unholy defect, but at a meeting organised by the school to explain itself to parents, a vociferous minority concerned about results made one of the teachers cry, stating she simply couldn’t go on any longer given the conditions. This is an eloquent, refined older lady who has been at the school for more than a decade. It’s a variety of disparate factors that shows the system is fucked.

For me, and forgive sounding old fashioned, this is evidence that local school should be run for local people by local people, but in a city where practically no one is genuinely “local” anymore, and competition for housing, jobs, even the right to breed, is rife, it’s hardly surprising that we are all gasping for breath. I’m not worried for Jonah, despite the fact that he currently is being taught by a supply teacher and the poor part timer who has been dragged back in to do more hours. He will be fine, well as fine as anyone of his generation can be, because, and here’s the rub, we are well off enough to make sure he will be. A lot of people are increasingly not so lucky.

Cutting costs while also demanding excellence and increased admin from people who simply do not have a personal rather than merely a professional interest in the future of the institution, or area where they are giving so much of the time and energy often for more love than money, simply creates stress, tension and unhealthy competition among those who genuinely want the best for their children (and who doesn’t?). What is needed is not always grand plans and expensive super heads with amazing qualifications and grand ambitions (all good in themselves but perhaps at odds with the reality of teaching kids who may lack the wherewithal, for myriad reasons, to follow suit) presiding over overworked and underpaid staff, but long term planning that nurtures a sense of community, the pillars of which should be genuinely rewarded for caring about institutions about which they have vested interests in caring about, rather than being a stepping stone to greater power elsewhere. It takes a village, as they say, and if big society exists anywhere these days it’s within the walls of an “outstanding” school. That’s what makes it “outstanding” rather than merely a good, whatever Ofsted has to say about it.