Last year, Oracy Cambridge was commissioned to write a report entitled Oracy Across the Welsh Curriculum by the Newport Education Achievement Service and the Welsh government, to support teachers and school leaders in implementing some of the recommendations set out in Professor Graham Donaldson’s 2015 report Successful Futures. Oracy Across the Welsh Curriculum was commissioned to serve three purposes:
To report on a comprehensive Review of the relevant research literature relating to the development of speaking and listening skills in young people;
To produce a set of Key principles derived from research evidence;
To outline a set of Practical recommendations for teachers based on the research evidence and key principles.
Although this report was written with the Welsh curriculum reforms in mind, the bulk of its content is applicable to education systems throughout the world. In particular, it is hoped that this report will also be of service to the UK Parliament’s All Party Parliamentary Group on Oracy, which was established in May 2018 and which is due to report in September 2019, following a series of inquiries.
Please feel free to contact Oracy Cambridge should you have any questions relating to the report, which you can download using the link above.
I was privileged to be asked to do some work recently with the first national cohort of ‘Oracy Leaders’ as they neared the end of their second term on this one year Voice 21-led course.
We spent an interesting session exploring the challenges and successes so far of leading oracy in school.
In this blog I will explore the successes and some specific challenges these Oracy Leaders are currently experiencing. They are in the vanguard of many to follow.
In the two blogs that will follow between now and the National Oracy Leaders Conference in July, I will look at some of the approaches that can help Oracy Leaders and their colleagues to begin to address some of these challenges.
I was impressed by successes these Oracy Leaders had already achieved after less than two terms in their role. Most were well on the way to gaining a not easily won, peer-bestowed permission from their colleagues: permission to lead on oracy with them, for them and on their behalf. Many had already led successful sessions with staff – with the whole school even – sowing the seeds that make the case for developing oracy as a tool that can for pupils unlock their ‘growth mindsets’ and ‘self-as-learner’ beliefs. These are pre-requisites for communicative confidence and sustainable achievement.
They gave vivid examples of oracy’s rapid impact on pupils’ abilities to think and reason aloud articulately when contributing in class; of how this was creating a hunger amongst teachers to build more oracy into their lessons and a desire to manage-down teacher-talk to free up space for this to happen.
I heard how their Action Research enquiries were revealing facets of talk, thought, curriculum and pedagogy that were opening the eyes and ears of adults and pupils alike. And I sensed how these changes in culture and confidence were beginning to hook senior leaders, parents and governors into the power and potential of an oracy-rich school. Pupils were loving their new found voices; both the voice we can all hear and the voice inside their heads that only they can hear; the one that gives them the power over thought and communication.
I was both grateful for and impressed by the Oracy Leaders’ candour, their honest analysis of the oracy leader role, and their reflections on what I believe are demands that are probably unique to leading oracy in a school.
Oracy Across the School
Forty five years ago the ‘Bullock’ report ‘A Language for Life,’ (DES, 1973) broke new ground in conceiving of language, in educational terms, as a whole-school phenomenon: language across the curriculum, and of leading it as a whole-school responsibility. The report’s recommendations were powerful and groundbreaking but also (in retrospect) blindingly clear, common sense. Yet many schools struggled then to bring the concept of language across the curriculum into practice successfully. And quite a number still do.
For reasons I will elaborate upon now, I believe leading talk across the curriculum is arguably one of the hardest aspects of leading ‘language’ across the curriculum – which has tended the past to focus in on reading and writing.
Currents below the surface
Spoken language is omnipresent in schools, classrooms, playgrounds and lessons, so much so that we are blinded to it by familiarity.
It is hard to know where or how to start to turn talk into something which we need to become conscious of, sensitised to, something which we constantly notice, tune into, and upon which we increasingly reflect in relation to the learning it promotes. The prospect of starting out on such an endeavour can be as daunting as hearing for the first time long, lilting, unbroken sequences of talk in an unknown language and trying to work out where individual words begin and end. Oracy is slippery and difficult to grasp.
This is one reason why I believe that oracy can be particularly challenging to lead. It may be a reason why it has failed so many times, despite efforts, to find its rightful place in and across the curriculum. We must not let it again evade such efforts which are to be felt in the momentum now building behind the current oracy ‘movement’.
So lets look at the issues that were providing most challenges to the oracy leaders.
Wicked Oracy issues
There are two distinct faces of oracy in school: (i) oracy as an overt skill set and (ii) oracy as an integrated pedagogy. The vast majority of what I will focus on here concerns the second, because this is the face that in school carries the power of oracy right across the curriculum and deep into subject expertise.
I want to examine three wicked issues that were experienced to some extent by most of the oracy leaders, despite their evident successes. I will explore them here and then in my next two blogs blog offer some ideas for addressing each of them in turn.
Many aspects of the three issues will I am sure be familiar to anyone who has had a whole school leadership responsibility. But the combination of all three creates a unique set of challenges for leaders of oracy.
Issue 1 is the existence of an invisible barrier that makes it difficult for some to grasp how oracy can be a powerful, pedagogical ‘means’ to almost any subject-knowledge ‘end’. It is sometimes hard for people to imagine or to accept how something as simple and commonplace as talk can be the tool that is essential for all wondering, hypothesising, struggling, re-thinking, and realising; and as such the ‘means’ that enables understanding to grow, knowledge to form, and learning to take place.
Issue 2 (a likely consequence of theme 1) is a view held by some that focusing on oracy in different subjects ‘waters down’a lesson in terms of its prime purpose – teaching the subject knowledge that is the object of that lesson’s learning. This view can even lead to oracy across the curriculum being seen as an ‘indulgence’ for which there is no time.
Issue 3 emerges as an impatient pressure from ‘on high’ for the oracy leader to demonstrate measurable pupil progress in order to provide evidence to senior managers that the oracy is having ‘impact’ and so justify continued investment. The need for such immediate organisational gratification leaves little room for teachers to experiment in their classrooms together developing the practices needed to overcome wicked issues 1 and 2 above, and so can quickly choke off development before it has had a chance to take root.
All three of these together suggest to me that there is something bigger at play here. And my belief is that this has to do with the invisible nature of what makes oracy powerful. This is the elision of thought and talk, and one’s ability as an oracy leader to imagine that elision vividly enough to model it and to shape it. This needs to happen firstly in one’s own mind and teaching, and then you need to engineer opportunities for the pupils of your colleagues to encounter that elision themselves in the mathematics-talk or music-talk or science-talk that one’s colleagues orchestrate for them in their lessons.
I am referring to the elision of talk and thought that an oracy leader needs to pinpoint, capture and bring to life in lessons, and to encourage and help colleagues do so too, in their classrooms and subjects. (My next blog will focus on this).
For many, leading oracy means, with one’s colleagues, breaking new ground.
We discussed the extent to which the wicked issues might have arisen as a result of the ‘novel’ nature of oracy as a curricular and pedagogical phenomenon, compared with what might have been the case had oracy been a more established, traditional curriculum subject or pedagogical approach.
We also discussed whether– whatever the degree of ‘SLT support’ – oracy leaders are often working amidst their colleagues. While they are doing a lot of ‘coordinating’, these oracy leaders were very clear they were ‘Leading’ oracy with a capital ‘L’.
While this complexity of innovation and role explains some of the challenges facing oracy leaders, it does not explain how to help them and their colleagues to get a handle on the invisible elision of thought and talk, or how then to place all this in the confident hands of fellow professionals.
It is hard to think about language and thought (a concept let’s say) because when we try to do so we are inevitably using language (the voice in our heads) to have the thoughts and so do the thinking.
Think about the words in the box below for a few seconds.
Is it?…. Or is it not?
This shows how difficult it is difficult for an item of language to refer to itself. It is similarly difficult for us to use our thoughts to refer to themselves. But to discuss talk and thought, one has to find ways of doing so. And to lead oracy one has to find ways of helping others to do so too.
Language, thoughts, concepts, utterances, all come out of our mouths as one and also go into the ears of our interlocutors – as one; and all unconsciously. We are conscious of the meanings we want to convey and of the meanings we make of what we hear. But we are oblivious to the mechanics of it all – mental and physical. (If we weren’t, we’d probably go mad after only a few sentences).
In addition to all this, is the almost impossible separation for some, of word from concept.
I remember a friend relating a conversation she’d had with a well-educated and professionally successful colleague who had expressed a view that the French word ‘eau’ was a crazy word to use for ‘water’.
If you can stop cringing for just a second, you can sort of understand what she meant. It is a very simple and clear illustration of the double difficulty of leading oracy in school. Most people who are not bilingual or who are not used to thinking about language as an entity, find it hard to process thoughts about language and to separate words from meaning, for long enough to do any serious moulding, shaping or ‘engineering’ of that thought and talk to enable it to facilitate learning.
So oracy as a pedagogy is a doubly difficult thing to lead because it is both intangible and difficult, even to think about. But it needs to be made tangible and visible and less difficult to think about by the oracy leader.
How are oracy leaders overcoming these wicked issues?
This is why I am interested in leadership of oracy and particularly in the leadership of oracy by people who are not in the highest echelons of power in their organisations. I believe that it is really only with the permission of peers that the agency of people in this kind of leadership role is given true licence. This agency extends to a range of very different roles and it needs to do so if it is to bring about truly transformational change.
Winning the trust and respect of one’s peers to gain such permission from one’s colleagues is therefore vital for the would-be oracy leader.
Our national oracy leaders saw themselves as fulfilling multiple roles with their colleagues. These roles included:
Whole school coach
Pedagogical demonstrator and modeler
Chief organiser of oracy events, days,
Initiator, writer of subject embedded oracy ‘units’
Leader of professional enquiry and learning
Team-builder of oracy enthusiasts
Updater of SLT and governors.
These are twelve distinct roles and carrying them out demands very different sets of skills and knowledge. The National Oracy Leaders course was helping them to anticipate and research many of them. But when it comes to exploring and surfacing deeper conceptual knowledge and beliefs around relationships between thought, language, words and meanings in lessons, and about specific ‘subject knowledge,’ there is a need also to formatively assess the starting points of one’s colleagues.
Making a necessity out of virtue
It is when they see the impact that a focus on oracy has on children’s self-confidence and achievement, that practitioners start to believe that it may be something in which it is worth such an investment of effort and such a risk of change. Earlier I made a distinction between oracy as a skill-set and oracy as a pedagogy and said I would focus mostly on the latter – which I have. This is partly because people can consciously see and immediately grasp the oracy as a skill, conscious oracy, as effective in all these ways. But it is harder for them to do so where they perceive talk activities invading subject teaching as a dilution, rather than as an accelerant to learning.
Usually, it is changed-beliefs that change behaviours. Sometimes it is changed-behaviours that can change beliefs. Rarely do both happen simultaneously. But I am pretty sure this was what was beginning to happen for some of the oracy leaders who were so skilfully combining their multi-faceted role.
I believe that (in this particular strand of professional knowledge and know-how), being a trusted and informed peer-professional in the very midst of the fellow professionals that one is leading, is a vital key to achieving lasting, sustainable change in practice and in belief and in creating a community of practice in an organisation.
In my next two blogs (between now and July) I will examine a few practical professional devices that can help crack some of the conceptual, linguistic, cognitive, affective and cultural challenges that confront Oracy Leaders in developing professional capacity for improving oracy in school.
Out with a group of children looking at a local pond, one of them was watching rooks who had made nests and were evidently incubating eggs – a noisy process. He said that that they didn’t come down very often to breathe. When asked to explain, he said that he knew that there was less air as you got higher, and the trees were very high; he knew whales could go for an hour or so without coming up to breathe, so maybe rooks could go for an hour up in the trees without coming down to breathe. The creativity and imagination involved in this idea was a little breathtaking in itself; and it was only the chance to talk that allowed the child to make his thoughts clear to himself, and the rest of us.
Each child holds an individual conception of the world around them; the child’s imagination has worked on the raw material of experience and helped them to make sense of things. Children can generate informal explanations for what they notice without ever putting such concepts into words, because usually it isn’t necessary. The sun – or at least the daylight – appears in the morning and disappears at night; a ball rolling on grass will stop eventually, in the same way that they themselves stop when they run out of energy; caterpillars are a kind of worm, and butterflies a kind of fly.
A child may never have considered that there are other points of view or other explanations. We may only gain insight into creative thinking – or misconceptions – when a child tells you that a rainbow is a ribbon, or describes how waves bring the tide up the shore, or says that ducks have four legs; and it seems wrong to challenge such charming explanations. But the history of human endeavour in science has led us to a set of increasingly robust explanations of how things work, and it is our responsibility to help children to see this more scientific point of view (and it’s reassuring to remember that it remains perfectly possible to hold on to the idea that rainbows are ribbons even when you have learned about the spectrum of visible light.)
Most learning is social, and classroom activities can offer the chance to talk about a range of ideas with classmates. Talk fosters curiosity and prepares a child to open their mind to new information and evidence. Talking about marking the day’s succession of shadows in the playground, coupled with discussing simulations of the earth in space, can help the child’s thinking and understanding to develop. Talking about, looking at, and trying to touch rainbows made by crystal sun-catchers helps the child to see that they are light and to say what they notice. The authoritative scientific idea is really no less wonderful than what they imagined.
Both the opportunity to talk, and the type of talk, influence learning. A child playing alone with a wet sand and dry sand will have an important sensory experience. A group of children talking about types of sand, their textures, behaviour and uses, will extend their vocabulary and hear new ideas to think about. A group of children talking with a teacher who is modelling the use of exploratory questions, and adding in some helpful vocabulary, have more to think about when they are left to play alone. Children need all of these experiences. A session where children play with sand and argue over who is next with the sieve is another sort of learning altogether. In classrooms, planning talk for learning and teaching both oracy skills and curriculum knowledge can ensure the sort of conversations that keep moving children’s thinking on.
Children talking sometimes don’t know what they are going to say until they’ve said it. What children think they know is what they try to say. There is no other way that this thinking will become so clearly apparent to you, or to them. The language they use and what they know are almost the same thing, and are precipitated by talk with their classmates. Talk with and between children allows them to see where their understanding stops and raise questions that they are interested in answering. But we know that a child may feel they are tight-rope walking socially if they admit that they don’t understand or if they offer a tentative idea. A collaborative classroom ethos with explicit talk rules can provide a secure safety net, enabling the child to express ideas with no fear of judgement. Learning by interthinking becomes possible if every child feels that they have a voice.
One advantage of learning how to explain ideas and negotiate them with others is that the child is gaining experience which prepares them for future team work – and future life generally. But the need to learn the most powerful genres of talk is really pressing for the child as they go through their everyday life. They need an oracy education for the here and now. Children directly taught how to talk to others are better able to access the education on offer in class, and better able to listen to and shape their own thoughts. Knowing some simple talk tools: What do you think? Why do you think that? I agree, because – I disagree, because – Can you explain please? Can you say a bit more about that? Can you repeat that? What do you mean? – knowing what ‘listen’ really means, and knowing that others are prepared to listen to you as you do to them – this education in oracy is essential for every moment of the child’s present. Communication is what children thrive on. And deferring or avoiding the teaching of talk skills limits a child to a smaller and much less comprehensible world.
The idea that birds in tall trees must come down to breathe is poetry really. The child dreams up such ideas when they notice things that their curious minds want to explain. Ideas that we teach as science have become currency through conversations over time and space, to enable us all to understand the world. Exploratory talk is integral to science. Teaching science through talk and vice versa is what the child of today deserves.
Loxley, P. Dawes, L. Nicholls, L. and Dore, B. (2017) 3rd Edition. Teaching Primary Science: Promoting Enjoyment and Developing Understanding. London: Routledge.
Dawes, L & Sams, C. (2017) 2nd Edition. Talk Box: Activities for Teaching Oracy with Children Aged 4–8. London: Routledge.
Dawes, L & Foster, J. (2016) Jumpstart! Talk for Learning: Games and Activities for Ages 7-12. London: Routledge/David Foster.
During the recent wave of strike action by University staff to defend our pensions, many of us have been standing huddled against the cold weather, in groups outside our workplaces. On the first day of strike action, I had no idea what to expect. A handful of us arrived and discussed where we should stand, then held up our signs and chatted fairly randomly about the pension valuation and the weather. We began to discuss the tensions involved in striking, and not doing the jobs we love. And we began to discuss some of the theories and ideas behind what was happening at Universities around the country.
By week 2, our numbers had grown significantly. We were a group that spanned different research groups, teaching programmes, roles and responsibilities, ages, stages and backgrounds. We were joined by students and by some local sixth-formers who brought us tea during their morning break. And we began to realise that something unique was happening. Whereas inside the building roles were fairly fixed and discussion happened within certain groups and followed certain conventions, outside the building there were no such rules. Instead of the more formal learning that takes place during teaching sessions or research seminars, discussion was more open and collaborative, and the learning was palpable.
For week 3, we decided to formalise this to some extent and hold teach-outs. Each day had a theme, and often someone who had done some work on that topic started things off. But the format was ‘open-mic’ or rather ‘open-megaphone’ out on the street, on one of the busiest routes into Cambridge city. We had a poetry slam, a session on accountability measures, and a session on the critical theorist Theodor Adorno, during which we warmed our frozen fingers at the brazier and jumped on the spot to stay warm.
The informal learning continued during week 4, through discussions, in groups, and without barriers. We realised the power of talk for learning. We realised that We Are The University.
Last year, I attended a fascinating talk by Simon Lancaster, a professional speechwriter. It was a variation on a TEDx talk he did a couple of years ago, which you can see here – it’s well worth 20 minutes of your time.
Ever since, I’ve become kind of obsessed with the way leaders use language to get things done. Simon’s talk covers just six techniques, but there are many more (see here, for example). Once you learn about these rhetorical sleights of hand, you start seeing them everywhere. And once you realise that you can use these techniques to argue just as passionately for something as against it, it makes you suitably suspicious of those with a slick way with words. So not only does learning about rhetoric make you better at speaking and writing, it helps you read the world more critically.
All of which begs the question: why wasn’t I taught this stuff when I was at school? Why am I only learning about this now, in my forties? Regular readers of these pages will know that the teaching of things like ancient rhetoric is currently under-represented in (most) schools, compared with written literacy and numeracy. However, this is quite a recent development.
Throughout the middle ages, rhetoric was a part of the Trivium (alongside logic and grammar), a core curriculum first established in ancient Greece. Indeed, as Simon points out in his TEDx talk, “In London, right the way through to the 19th century, it was possible to get a free education in rhetoric, but not in mathematics, reflecting the importance that was placed on the topic”.
More recently, the teaching of ancient rhetoric has primarily become the preserve of exclusive (also, notably, male) public schools such as Eton, Harrow and Rugby. Take, for example, this short clip of Boris Johnson talking about Churchill’s way with words. There’s a fascinating moment where Johnson says “now that is an ascending tricolon, isn’t it?” Here, he speaks as though an understanding of ancient rhetorical techniques is common knowledge. To which one might lament, “If only it were true”. However, a better response would be, “Let’s prove him right”. Time’s up on this, as well.
The Language of Power: a one-day workshop
Anyway. A few months ago, Oracy Cambridge was contacted by Villiers Park, a fabulous charity that works with hundreds of young people throughout the UK, providing intensive support and outreach for students in years 10 to 13, to help them transition to a successful life beyond the school gates. They asked us to run a series of workshops with their year 13 scholars, to help develop their confidence with public speaking before they leave the school system for good: better late than never, as they say.
So, I put together a workshop to teach students “how to speak like a leader”. Since the new year, I’ve been running these workshops up and down the country, from Hastings to Tyneside, and the feedback from the students has been extraordinary. Here’s a sample of comments from the Villiers Park scholars:
“Needs to be longer. Have it over a weekend with multiple teams debating controversial topics with each other.”
“Really enjoyed it. Personal as we could choose our own topic.”
“The workshop was very well set, I thoroughly enjoyed it and thus no improvement should be made.”
What did you find most useful?
“The presenting along with feedback coupled with the teaching of language devices.”
“The quiz – fun, good for learning.”
“I learnt effective techniques in structuring my speech. To deliver confidently, likewise learning and understanding the terms.”
“Looking at examples of powerful speeches – shows people what to aim for.”
“Learning the different techniques used in language.”
“Analysing and picking out techniques – the quiz.”
“The demo of how the speech can be done by the presenter.”
“The analysis of Oprah and Trump speeches, because it was real-life examples of the techniques we’ve developed.”
Now coming to a town near you… (if you book it)
Oracy Cambridge are now opening up the offer to run these workshops in schools and workplaces around the country. It would work well as a one-day workshop for children (years 5 to 13). If you want to embed high standards of presentational skills across your school, we also offer it as a training event for teachers and support staff. And we’re also offering it to workplaces, because apparently (or so I am reliably informed) there is a world beyond the education system.
A brief summary of an inspiring day at the inaugural Great Oracy Exhibition at School 21 in Stratford, London.
Today, I attended what was probably my favourite ever education conference. And for someone who once wrote six blogs about a single #researchED conference, that’s saying something.
I’ve been to a few oracy conferences before, but this was the first one that’s been hosted by a school, where the vast majority of presentations and workshops were run by practising teachers or involved students. I’ve argued on these pages before that oracy is approaching the point at which it ‘tips’ into the collective consciousness and takes its rightful place alongside literacy and numeracy, and today was perhaps the strongest evidence I’ve yet encountered to suggest that this might actually be more than just wishful thinking.
The heart of Harkness
It’s actually kind of difficult to describe the first session. Picture a packed classroom, with around 60 people staring at an oval table around which fifteen A-level politics students conduct a nuanced twenty-minute discussion about the statement ‘Theresa May is not a true conservative’. See what I mean?
In case you aren’t familiar, a Harkness Table is method for having a discussion that’s more open and collaborative than a lecture or a debate. This was a gripping session with students holding their own in the face of some quite challenging questions from the Guardian’s political editor Anushka Asthana. What was noticeable was not just the quality of talk, but the knowledge these students had to back it up. I learnt more about conservatism in these 20 minutes than in all my years as a news junky. Which is pretty crazy when you think about it.
Raising the bar, closing the gap with an oracy-based curriculum
In the next session, I gave a talk to another packed room about the study that’s the focus of my recently-submitted PhD. In a nutshell, it’s an 8-year evaluation of an oracy-based Learning to Learn curriculum that found significant gains in subject learning, with particularly accelerated gains among students from disadvantaged backgrounds. The slides are below; there’s a journal article here and another due out later this year, and a book in the pipeline. We’re really keen to find out whether these positive findings can be replicated in other settings – if you’re interested in finding out more, drop me a line (email@example.com).
Mind-blowing speeches by 8-year olds
Throughout the next session, I sat with fellow Learning to Learn enthusiast Becky Carlzon in open-mouthed incredulity at the quality of the speeches delivered by a group of year 4 students. I have never witnessed such compelling speechwriting and delivery among even A-level students before, let alone among 8-year olds. The quality of the writing, the sophistication of language, the passion, the drama, the delivery – it really was absolutely mind-blowing.
As the School 21 head Peter Hyman said in his opening address, oracy is a really complex and layered thing. It’s certainly about much more than just public speaking. That said, I strongly suspect that if all children were taught and encouraged and supported to speak to this standard throughout their school years, in the space of a generation we would transform society on a tidal wave of confidence and eloquence that we can’t even imagine. So we should probably do that and see what happens.
Adventures in social mobility
The final session was a fascinating conversation between Beccy Earnshaw, Director of Voice 21, and Hashi Mohamed, who came to the UK as an unaccompanied refugee aged nine, and who later became a barrister. Hashi wrote an influential opinion piece for the Guardian last year, and you can hear more about his story, and his take on social mobility, in an excellent programme for Radio 4 that you can listen to here.
One of Hashi’s central messages is that his success is far more down to luck than hard work. He spoke of the countless times as a youngster when he made bad decisions and was ‘shown mercy’ by a teacher or police officer. Food for thought for advocates of zero tolerance and no excuses discipline. He concluded by saying something we don’t hear often enough: that teachers are amazing, and that we are incredibly powerful, and that we need to wield our power wisely.
As a contribution to Oracy Cambridge’s exploration of spoken communication in the world of work, I discussed the value and role of workplace talk with Janice Booth, a traditional Chinese acupuncturist. Janice has been practising acupuncture for over thirty years, and also lectures in Chinese medicine training would-be acupuncturists.
When Janice sees a patient she allows up to 90 minutes for an initial consultation, with successive treatments lasting between 45 minutes to an hour. Whilst a significant proportion of this time is taken up with the range of treatment approaches that she uses – for example: taking pulses, scrutinising physical aspects such as tongue, eyes, skin tone, inserting and manipulating needles – consultations are also characterised by a particular kind of dialogue. We talked about how she uses oracy skills to carry out her consultations and to take a patient through a course of treatment. In so doing we touched on some interesting aspects of the relationship between talk, professional decision-making, and patient self-awareness. I have reproduced the bulk of our discussion largely as it unfolded.
How important is oracy to you in your work as an acupuncturist?
If I don’t listen then I’m not a receptor of what comes to me at all levels. My listening skills involve picking up the nuances of someone’s complaint and that also entail me being perceptive enough to ask the right questions to narrow down into the details of someone’s problem, whether it be physical, mental, emotional or even spiritual…and the only way to find that is to take the patient to another level either with the specificity of words I use or picking up on anything emotive in what the patient says that is inviting me to ask another question. It could be that someone repeats something or that they seem to skirt around something so that there’s no disclosure, or something that they emphasise. It’s in the initial diagnostic discussion where the most narrative happens, where the ‘I don’t know you and I’m getting to know you and establishing the roles’ occurs and there’s a certain weight to getting facts and then for me to interpret them. My mission is to diagnose and that’s what the patient comes for and so clearly close listening is vital because that’s when I am at my best for observing. Someone coming for the first time is totally new so in that sense the dialogue is really key.
And as the treatment progresses?
Probably the most interesting therapeutic dialogue isn’t in the first session even though that is really important. Where it becomes more interesting and more critical is probably from the second treatment onwards when you have embarked on a journey with someone. In many ways it’s a verbal/linguistic journey. I might kick off with some leading questions and prompts that pick up on the first session – things that I need to know more about if I am to work wholistically, where I have felt there’s something there that has or hasn’t been said or in the way that its been said that I want to allow the patient time and space to look at themselves a little bit more.
Do you always start with dialogue?
In the first session most people come in and they sit there and wait for me to lead so I might say “OK, so tell me a bit about why you’ve come”. In the next session my prompts depend so much on the patient and what they ‘ve already said to me. There’s a whole spectrum of people. Some are very matter of fact and they model their coming to see me on a typical GP appointment although they know they’re paying me and they expect it to take a bit longer but they still model it on a biomedical model so it almost like, ‘OK so what do you want to know?’ or before I’ve even started they’re already rolling up their trousers to show me their bad knee! There are other people, quite rare…but they might say, ‘There’s kind of nothing wrong but I’ve heard that acupuncture is good for well being,’ and that’s a whole different starting point of course.
I’m interested in the relationship between the dialogue, the talking and listening, and how that relates to the treatment?
I think that’s really interesting because I’m not a counsellor or a psycotherapist, where the talk is all and that’s all that is done, what people call ‘talking therapy’ – talk and silence, talk and silence – I do that but not fully. There’s a point where I take a more proactive role because I have to wrap up what people have told me towards a diagnostic decision and subsequent use of needles. Where there hasn’t been much talk – for example where a patient doesn’t want to say much, or where there might be issues with English as a second language – I sometimes struggle to be really clear about the depth of treatment I’m going to offer. I obviously have other skills I use to make a diagnosis – taking the pulse, looking at the tongue, taking the temperature, observing colour on the face – all of that which can give some clues but without getting to know someone it’s so much more difficult. It’s almost like the chit-chat at the start that goes further and then I turn to my use. It’s building the rapport, so that there’s a working relationship. It is a relationship, there’s no doubt about it, and that’s so different to what a lot of people usually experience in a typical ten minute consultation with their GP. There is time for talk between two people to take you to a very creative place of understanding on both sides and it is a gift to me as a practitioner because of the insight into how someone has put or is putting their life’s meaning together: I am facilitating that. And that potentially has a profound impact on someone’s well-being.
So you partly use talk to help you to a clearer diagnosis?
But you just started to talk about how getting the patient to talk could be seen as part of the treatment itself – as having an impact itself.
Well, I think that’s the most interesting area and many patients eventually realise that too. They bring to me all their disparate ailments, memories, all the disparate aspects of their lives and sometimes they come to ‘see’ themselves differently. Through a prompt such as, ‘Tell me a bit more about that…’ or, ‘I’m really interested in…’ or, ‘Have you ever thought there’s a connection between this and that..?’ you know, for example, ‘Might there be something between your fear of failure and how your immune system is so compromised?’ I might nudge someone towards that or even better if they start to do this themselves. For example a patient might say, ‘You know it’s odd isn’t it, but I’ve just been wondering the reason why I seem to get ill every Autumn is because that’s the time of year when my parents died, that’s twenty years ago, do you think that’s possible?’ and I might just say, ‘Well it is interesting isn’t it, that’s worth thinking about…’ You kind of leave it hanging but it’s language that’s taken the patient and me on that little route to looking at something a bit more deeply.
What is it about that, helping the patient to talk that through, to find the words themselves, that’s part of the work that you do?
Because as a traditional acupuncturist, one of the key tenets is that nothing is unintegrated, nothing happens – OK trauma, car accident, whiplash, they are random issues, yes – but once something’s become chronic, we have a world view that’s become established, we’re grown ups, then the narrative that we tell ourselves, it’s complex and sometimes it’s helpful to unravel it a bit…
And is that part of the cure…if that’s the right word?
And that’s not a word to ever use, I agree (OK, so what…?) I wouldn’t use ‘cure’, I wouldn’t use ‘healing’, although I’ve touched on taking someone into deeper places of themselves. I think ultimately the patient does the work. I think the needles… I think they’re great actually, because they create an end point to the discussion and once the treatment starts there isn’t much talk.
Do some patients ‘get it’ in the sense that they come not just for the needles but to have a chance to talk things through in a way they never normally do?
Yes, people say things like, ‘Gosh, I’ve never spoken as much’ or, ‘I’ve never told anybody this,’ or, ‘How interesting, I’ve never thought there might be a link between this and this…’ I often talk about ‘the artistry of practice’ and there are times when I almost don’t want to start needling because I think the work is being done at the level of talk, of listening and responding, of being there. You’re just holding onto that very delicate web that’s being woven where words come out, they evaporate but they’re being held by the practitioner, being held just long enough to explore them further. I do write stuff down, however!
But do you also revoice…?
Yeah, I do revoice. I’ll sometimes say, ‘Can we just pause a minute because you’ve said some really useful things there,’ and then I might say, ‘Can I just read something back to you that you said to me,’ or ‘You said to me and I don’t quite understand ‘ or ‘Can you just tell me more…?’. But sometimes I’ll just use the pause, especially with some patients who are talking so much they can’t hear themselves….
What’s going on in your head while the dialogue is unfolding?
This is where I’ll hold what I feel is most significant. But I’m making the whole thing sound very esoteric; often I do really need to know whether a pain is for example: stabbing or sharp, bruisey, achy, dull, easy, heavy, impedes movement, better in the summer, better in the winter, after a bath; and that takes up a long time because you want the exact word. And people go, ‘Oh, yeah’, or ‘I don’t know how to describe it, goodness, it’s just pain…’ and I’ll probe with words: ‘Is it…?’ and they’ll go, ‘Oh yes, it’s a bit like that‘ and we’ve established a word. There’s something useful because two treatments down the line you return to that description and ask again…’’Two treatments ago you told me that your pain was…is it still like that?’
In your professional practice you have specific acupuncture skills…but in addition, in terms of talk, what skills do you also have to use? (You mean what would I tell a practitioner in training?) Yes, what do you have to be good at?
At one level there’s a role that involves totally engaging with the patient through the session to listen fully, to develop rapport and create an environment of trust and safety.
Then there’s the constructive use of language to scrutinise the issue: ways of asking questions that take the patient further in their understanding of themselves. And often that involves echoing back a patient’s words.
There’s a being there with someone at an emotional level, at an empathetic level (not sympathetic because I think sympathy can be quite destructive) – the heart level.
There’s the creative level – I have to take stock of where I am, that I am who I am and beware of not letting my own stuff get in the way: why do I go off in directions, why am I interested in certain things? The creative level is not knowing: not knowing where a patient’s narrative is going to take them…and not knowing because although someone comes in with a main complaint (‘I’ve come to see you because’), down the line you find out that you’ve gone a long way from that initial starting point. You’re on another level of discourse, which is about self, connecting the threads, asking for understanding rather than just on a functional level or mechanical need.
Language at the transition point between the initial dialogue and the treatment – that’s an area that really interests me. If I allow best part of an hour, usually after about twenty minutes I have to move us towards the treatment, so each session involves a certain amount of wrapping up.
It has the trappings of friendly conversation, of chat, but it’s not like that at all really is it? You’re controlling it to some purpose…
Well it’s also about power. I’m the practitioner, they’re the patient. It’s professional. Ultimately you have to step back, have a clear mind, a clear intention, wisely use everything you’ve heard and seen and perceived and then formulate a treatment. I suspect that the needling may be more powerful if the patient is receptive to it, which is linked to all of what’s gone before: the narrative, the understanding, the trust. Though sceptics do also get better!
Can you sum up? How important is oracy to you as a therapeutic practitioner?
Well…it’s obviously important but not essential, because you can do a treatment, for example on a child, without all the talk. But then there is something really important missing that supports the treatment, that becomes part of the treatment. The best treatment session is often one between two people where you have a backlog of really close understanding, a patient having felt totally heard (not intimately, not everyone wants to tell you everything). Some people come for the long haul, patients who I know very well, who I’ve been seeing periodically for years. Some people don’t want to stop having treatment. Undoubtedly the actual treatment I’ve formulated for them has to be the right one, but I do have a sense that it’s not just about the treatment: it’s about the dialogue, it’s about a real sense of having been heard. In my filing cabinet I have narratives from all the people I’ve seen over the past thirty years. And it’s also all there in my head, all of the endless conversations towards something fruitful…
It’s interesting, isn’t it?
Alan Howe was in conversation with Janice Booth, Lic Ac FBAcC.
I am going to distinguish here between oracy education and dialogic teaching, because – as I will explain – I think that confusion between them has created problems. Oracy is becoming recognised, internationally, as both a potential curriculum subject and an important set of life skills. There is a growing interest amongst teachers (and occupational trainers) in how spoken language skills can be developed and exactly what this means for classroom practice. There is also an increasing recognition by politicians and policy makers that oracy should figure amongst the ‘21st Century skills’ that education systems should promote. This recognition seems to be taking place now, somewhat belatedly, in England (with other places such as Wales and Singapore already being well ahead in this respect) if we can take the statements of new Secretary of State for Education Damien Hinds as an indication .
At the same time, and perhaps at a similar pace, an interest has been growing in the value of ‘dialogic teaching’ in the classroom. Strongly associated in the UK with the work of Professor Robin Alexander, and in the USA with researchers such as Professor Martin Nystrand, this is essentially a pedagogic approach which emphasises the importance of talk being used effectively in the classroom. Its proponents use research evidence to argue that students, as well as teachers, need to be using talk actively to construct an understanding of curriculum content, rather than teachers only transmitting curriculum content and instruction through talk to an attentive, and largely silent, class. That this needs to be argued may seem strange to some, but in fact there has been a great resistance to dialogic teaching by those attached to more traditional pedagogies, who use the apparent effectiveness of didactic teaching methods employed in other countries such as China, and the reliance of the advocates of dialogic teaching on evidence from small-scale studies, to support their opposition. However, recent research by Robin Alexander and Frank and Jan Hardman at the University of York , and by Christine Howe, Sara Hennessy, myself and other colleagues at Cambridge  has provided evidence from the analysis of substantially larger sets of classroom data than used in previous studies to swing the argument more strongly in favour of the dialogic position. For example, in our research we found that teachers of Year 6 (children aged 11) who ensure that many members of their class participate in dialogue and encourage children to elaborate their ideas through talk gain better SATs results in Maths and English for their classes than teachers whose classroom interactions have fewer of those features. The York study showed similar and other benefits for children’s attainment in Year 5 when their teachers were trained to be more ‘dialogic’. In contrast, there have been no systematic studies of teaching, either small or large scale, which support the view that maintaining a traditional, didactic, instructional approach gets the best results in British primary schools.
However, my main aim here is not to explain or justify dialogic teaching. Instead, I want to achieve something more specific, which is to distinguish it clearly from the other topic with which I began this blog; the teaching of oracy. I feel that confusion between them may be hindering some potentially valuable educational reforms, as I can explain from my own experience. When I was part of a lobbying group trying to influence the outcome of the most recent rewrites of the National Curriculum for English primary schools, we met with significant opposition from Conservative politicians and others in our attempts to maintain and enhance the place of Speaking and Listening in the curriculum for English (i.e., we were arguing that talk skills should be required to be taught, as well as those for reading and writing). Although in the end we were reasonably successful, it was only with hindsight that I realised that a substantial aspect of the opposition arose from the misconception that we were arguing for dialogic teaching rather than oracy education. This became apparent when I remembered that our opponents had repeatedly claimed that we were talking about pedagogy (which is not covered by the National Curriculum) rather than curriculum content. They thought we were arguing for certain ways of teaching, not for what should be taught. This was perhaps understandable, given that some oracy advocates like myself also argue for dialogic teaching. But we should be clear: they are not the same thing. Oracy education is the direct, explicit teaching of speaking and listening skills as part of the language and literacy curriculum, comparable to the direct, explicit teaching of algebra as part of maths. Dialogic teaching is a set of talk-based strategies for teaching any subject, whether it be maths, history, English or whatever. Of course, the case for each gives a special emphasis to the educational importance of talk which is lacking in both traditional English curricula and traditional pedagogies; and dialogic teaching certainly requires teachers to have good oracy skills. It may be that they go well together. But the case for each depends on a different evidence base and expects different changes in policy and practice. Promoting either may be less likely to be successful if they are confused.
I recently had a discussion with a fellow speech and language therapist about Oracy. They were worried that a focus on Oracy is hugely challenging for children with speech, language and communication needs (SLCN). And on those grounds, they felt a focus on Oracy disadvantaged children with SLCN.
Food for thought…
Clearly, children with SLCN struggle with the underlying skills needed for Oracy – they may have unclear speech, an inability to construct a sentence, poor vocabulary or difficulties understanding language. They may struggle to verbally structure a narrative or understand inference. They may have a stammer, or maybe social interaction difficulties. The list goes on.
On the surface, I guess it does seem that children with SLCN could be excluded from activities if there is a focus on Oracy, maybe it would make their lives more difficult – but, here’s the thing!
Their lives are already difficult.
For some children, just listening to the amount of language used in the school day can be exhausting, never mind processing it, understanding it and responding to it. I genuinely don’t know how some children get through the day…
Often, they are surrounded by a sea of words overwhelmingly difficult for them to follow. And of course, if they struggle to talk and understand, reading and writing is often even more challenging. Recent research has found the most important factor in reaching the expected levels in English and maths at age seven was children’s language skills at age five, greater than the link to poverty or parental education. (1) Still, the current education system doesn’t prioritise these crucial skills… baffling!
So, can a focus on Oracy help?
Lots of children with SLCN are being missed or misinterpreted. (2) The focus in schools on reading and writing means when children struggle, the perceived solution is often more literacy – phonics, reading intervention, writing practice – rather than a focus on the spoken language that sits beneath.
I’ve worked in an awful lot of schools – probably thousands if I were to add them all up. It’s very rare to work with a school that is accurately identifying all children with SLCN. These children are difficult to spot – even more so because most teachers don’t have the necessary training in typical language development – how are they expected to identify difficulties when they have no training on what typical development looks like.
If there was a systematic focus on spoken language, with teachers being supported and trained to understand language development, we would be identifying SLCN more accurately.
If Oracy was part of the curriculum, with equal status to the written word, used every day to support learning, we would immediately see the children who were struggling with these skills.
We wouldn’t need to wait for their behaviour to deteriorate or their mental health to suffer. We wouldn’t need to wait until their reading and writing was years behind – we’d see them. A focus on Oracy (with appropriately trained teachers), could therefore mean better identification!
So Oracy can help us identify children with SLCN – but how can it help support them? There’s a pretty long list in my mind, but the top three would be…
Children need to practise to get better – having no opportunity to talk really doesn’t help if you’re not good at talking. Children with SLCN often have lots to say – and often interesting, insightful things to say! They might need more time, careful interaction to ensure they can process information… we might need to make adaptations to give them a voice, but surely this is what we would want as an inclusive society…
Some of the structured approaches of Oracy practice actually support all children, including those with SLCN; group roles for example – it’s much easier to take part in a discussion if you know exactly what your role is. Children with SLCN might need training to take specific roles, or to know how and when to join in, but this is a totally doable feast.
The focus in Oracy on metalinguistic/metacognitive skills – these are also vital skills for pupils with SLCN to identify when they do and do not understand, to support skills in clarifying when they are unsure – explicitly teaching these skills can make a huge difference. Speech and language therapists call this comprehension monitoring – very important skills for children with difficulties understanding language.
Children with SLCN will need more – we need to fill them up with language as well as giving them the practice they can gain through giving Oracy a greater focus. Some will need specific specialist input or targeted approaches to support their acquisition and development of speech, language and communication skills. All will need adaptation of approaches to support their access to the curriculum. All need greater understanding of their needs… and a greater understanding of Oracy could go some way to supporting this.
Last Friday the University of Cambridge and Oracy Cambridge and AQA hosted a conference on Assessing Collaboration at Hughes Hall, Cambridge. Following the recent publication of results from the PISA ‘collaborative problem solving’ test (in which the UK performed pretty well, to not very much fanfare) this was a timely opportunity to reflect on the thorny issue of how to assess collaboration. Here are my potted recollections of the day, bolstered by the insights of Ayesha Ahmed, the conference organiser and host.
The grip of groupthink
I kicked off the day with a short talk on The Importance of Collaboration. One thing that is worth repeating here is the importance of using ground rules to avoid groupthink. The word groupthink was coined by Irving Janis (1972), to describe the fascinating phenomenon whereby a group of people make bad decisions because of weird group dynamics. Janis’s research focused on “policy decisions and fiascos” such as the Bay of Pigs, Pearl Harbour and the Vietnam War. Janis identified a number of practical steps that can be undertaken to prevent groupthink. These include:
Leaders should assign each member the role of “critical evaluator”. This allows each member to freely air objections and doubts.
Leaders should not express an opinion when assigning a task to a group.
Leaders should absent themselves from many of the group meetings to avoid excessively influencing the outcome.
The organization should set up several independent groups, working on the same problem.
All effective alternatives should be examined.
Each member should discuss the group’s ideas with trusted people outside of the group.
The group should invite outside experts into meetings. Group members should be allowed to discuss with and question the outside experts.
At least one group member should be assigned the role of Devil’s advocate. This should be a different person for each meeting. (Janis, 1972)
There are strong parallels here with the use of ground rules for group talk, a methodology developed by the Thinking Together research group here at Cambridge (see here for some excellent resources and links to publications).
99 problems and perfection ain’t one
I then pondered some of the practical problems with assessing collaboration – problems I know well, having wrestled with them for a number of years as a teacher and evaluator of Learning to Learn. Perhaps the most obvious issue is logistics. If you’re a class teacher and you’re assessing a group discussion among 4 students, which takes 5-10 minutes say – what are all your other students doing during that time? Recording group discussions in a busy classroom environment is also not easy, and then you have to have someone filming / recording it, and then you have to find the time to watch it. Another issue is the subjective nature of judgment, and the associated problems of reliability, validity and moderation. These relate to the limitations of attentional capacity: when observing and making notes on a group discussion, it’s not possible to pay attention to everything that is going on, since there are so many aspects to group interactions. None of these problems are easy to overcome, and when it comes to assessment, perhaps perfection is something to strive for, rather than ever really expect to achieve.
I concluded by setting out the case for how this conference might just save the world. The argument runs as follows:
Humanity is faced with a number of existential threats (global warming, artificial intelligence, nuclear war, clash of civilisations, bioterrorism, environmental meltdown, economic meltdown, running out of stuff, topsoil erosion etc)…
Our ability to overcome many of these threats depends on our ability to:
Communicate with one another
Collaborate in determining and executing solutions
Humans are pretty amazing, and there are loads of examples of us being really good at collaborative problem solving. However, a glance at your average news bulletin would suggest that there is also some room for improvement in this area.
We need to explicitly teach people
How to speak and listen effectively
How to get along with one another, and resolve conflict where it arises
How to collaborate effectively – internalising and culturally embedding the kinds of rules for productive collaboration outlined by Janis and the Thinking Together team
How to interthink and interact in productive ways
that this can be done in schools, to a very significant degree; and
that this does not happen in schools to the extent that it should.
The word oracy has been around for 50 years. However:
Many teachers haven’t heard of it
Even those that have – and who value oracy – often don’t make time for it, for a range of reasons.
That which is assessed is that which gets done. For examples, league tables incentivise schools to “game the system”.
We need to come up with reliable ways to assess collaboration. The survival of our species – and others – depends on it!
When I first wrote this argument, I intended it as a kind of joke – “no pressure, but the survival of the species depends on what we come up with today”. But as I read it back now, it doesn’t strike me as particularly funny – only pressing.
The internet of things is watching you…
Several of the talks focused on ways to use technology to overcome some of the problems outlined above. For example, Dr Mutlu Cukurova from the UCL IoE Knowledge Lab shared some findings from his fascinating research, which focuses on assessing collaboration using the Internet of Things. Essentially, Mutlu’s research seeks to automate some aspects of assessing collaboration using cameras embedded in objects to assess nonverbal behaviours, and provide real-time visual metrics as to how well students are collaborating. You can read a recent article on the topic by Mutlu and colleagues here (no paywall!).
One task, multiple uses…
Fazilat Siddiq from the Nordic Institute for Studies in Innovation, Research and Education, Oslo spoke about the development of a novel task for collaborative problem solving in a digital environment. Students read a poem and did an open and creative task in which they drew their interpretations of the poem on screens by collaborating digitally using chat boxes to communicate. Fazilat collected scores and also Think Aloud Protocol data to understand more about the collaborative problem solving processes in this task. A selection of Fazilat’s recent publications can be found here.
Assessing individual participation in collaborative tasks
Ayesha Ahmed from the University of Cambridge and Ruth Johnson from AQA described their current study investigating the features of good participation in collaborative tasks: what sort of talk happens during episodes of progress and success in the problem-solving, and what sort of talk happens when the group is stuck? Ruth and Ayesha are developing resources to help teachers and learners to assess these skills in a formative way in the classroom – watch this space!
Ashley Small from Cambridge Assessment International Education shared the findings from a small-scale study of teacher perceptions of the iGCSE Global Perspectives. This international qualification includes a teacher assessment of a collaborative project in which students are awarded individual marks and team marks. Ashley explored how three of the teachers who assess this make judgements about the quality of collaboration, using hypothetical scenarios to investigate their approaches to difficult assessment decisions. A clear message to emerge from this session was the importance of sharing clear guidance on how to assess collaboration.
Group thinking and mathematical thinking: Japan vs UK
Taro Fujita from the University of Exeter and colleagues have developed a test to assess group thinking skills using non-verbal reasoning questions – these are graphical puzzles requiring logical inferences to solve them. Eleven year olds in both the UK and Japan had a go at these tests individually and in groups. Taro showed us some extracts from the group talk from the UK and Japan which gave us a fascinating insight into the different approaches to the tasks. Interestingly, when tested individually the UK and Japanese students performed similarly on the task. However in the group setting, the Japanese students significantly outperformed their UK counterparts. This was a small-scale study, and further research is needed to determine the reasons as to why this may have been the case.
Summary and final discussion
Stuart Shaw from Cambridge Assessment International Education rounded off the day with an impressive summary of the day’s talks and left us with some questions to guide our final discussion session. At the start of the day, I had assumed that collaborative problem solving is something that sits almost entirely within the realm of spoken communication. However, during the conference and in this final discussion, a consensus emerged that there are many unspoken features of collaboration, such as nonverbal cues – and indeed that collaborative problem-solving can be done entirely in the absence, as with Fazilat Siddiq’s work involving collaborations on artwork via the internet, using chat rooms as the basis for communication. There was a consensus that assessing collaboration:
Is never easy
Can be done well in a range of ways, and across a range of contexts
Is worth pursuing, for the reasons outlined above.
This reminded me of a phrase I read in a recent piece by Lauren Ballaera from the Brilliant Club: “don’t let the perfect become the enemy of the good”. When it comes to assessing collaboration, that seems to be a useful adage to bear in mind.