Considerations for 21^st century pedagogy?

The Future of Teaching is, as posited on the cover, ‘a timely tour de force.’ It is, however, marred by Claxton’s (2021) vituperative railing across ten chapters that incites regression to the ‘vitriolic battle’ (5) between ‘trads’ and ‘progs’. Stoking the embers of an antiquated dichotomy arguably negates decades of pedagogical cross-pollination along with his synthesis. From the outset, the erudite cognitive scientist and self-proclaimed progressivist list his academic credentials on a page adjacent to an acknowledgement to those whose work he has contemptuously scrutinised. He concludes, ‘there are no bad people here … we are all on a path from novice to expert in our understanding of education … [however] it is only fools who won’t change their minds …’ (xv), or be persuaded ‘to take a more enlightened path’ (xxi). In the prologue, he profiles a divisive effigy of these contemporary scholars, thus rendered ignorant, in the image of neo-traditionalism. They constitute, he claims, an influential lobby-group espousing Hirsch-inspired ‘half-truths’ (xxix) and an outdated architecture of the mind to buttress myths of ‘Best Practice’ (xx), and of ‘Right and Wrong’ (xxi), which resonate with right-wing politicians. Subtly suggestive, ‘DIKRists’ (31), is the acronym he ascribes to this ‘tight-knit bubble of mutual appreciation’ (12), which he holds exclusively responsible for legitimating the one-size-fits-all paradigm of grammar schooling. It is derived from their advocacy of Direct Instruction and a Knowledge-Rich (DIKR) curriculum as an objectivist absolute for realising social equality and mobility through education.

Far from sophistry, however, the political sway, myopic scholarship, and policy-narrowing implications, which Claxton’s polemic imputes to the echo chambers of DIKRists, find explicit credence in the same month as his publication through Gavin Williamson’s address to the Foundation for Education Development at the National Education Summit. There, the secretary of state sought to validate a post-pandemic vision for school-recovery redolent of the Victorian era through a neo-traditionalist rhetoric that interpenetrated moral, scientific and pedagogical discourses. He declared,

We know much more now about what works best: evidence-backed, traditional teacher-led lessons with children seated facing the expert at the front of the class are powerful tools for enabling a structured learning environment where everyone flourishes (Williamson 2021).

It follows that Claxton (2021), in Chapter Three, brings into question the value, source and purpose of ‘Knowledge’, and more broadly, of state-education in the light of 21^st Century life-fulfilment and labour. Contrary to DIKR dogma, he avers that it does not suffice to know, rather, to understand, which is contingent upon the transmutation of knowledge into understanding – defined as ‘knowledge that has become embedded in a mesh of ideas and purposes in your mind that have personal meaning and relevance’ (34). The ‘preparation’ of students for the ‘rigour of life’ (xxii), therefore, requires a germane experiential and therapeutic curriculum focused on ‘cultural literacy’ (42) while accounting for individuals’ introspective dynamics in the development of ‘mental skill’ (31), and ‘epistemic character’ (xxiii, 15) – the general attitude to learning constituted of habits and beliefs.

In Chapter Four, Claxton expands on ‘Thinking’ and all things epistemic. He conceptualises 21^st Century learning as a ‘cognitive apprenticeship’ (58) for the development of expertise that offers value, has purpose and is transferable beyond the classroom context, with teachers engaging in ‘meta-cognitive coaching’ (65) not merely the conveyance of information. For Claxton, cognitive intellect is insufficient in the absence of other forms of knowing including aesthetic, practical, emotional, intuitive, and imaginative forms, amongst others, which make up an individual’s intelligence. Combined with skills (ability to) and dispositions (inclination to), such an ‘epistemic apprenticeship’ (59) adds up, Claxton claims, to more than the sum of its parts. The long-term objectives are thus to nurture in students an ‘epistemic mentality’ – cross-disciplinary thinking, and an ‘epistemic identity’ – self-awareness of being increasingly adept (or inept) thinkers or learners.

In Chapter Five, ‘Learning (and learning to learn)’, Claxton posits that children are ‘natural-born learners’ (90), yet through traditional schooling they ‘learn to become incurious’ (71). Denouncing performative classrooms as problematic, ‘dangerous and anti-epistemic’, he claims they portray a ‘bright student’ as the one who succeeds on the first attempt with little effort, while those who struggle and make mistakes are portrayed as ‘stupid’ (84). He maintains, only recognising learning on the surface of the river, as DIKRists do, risks creating a ‘cultural undertow’ (91) that neglects to develop the ‘learning echoniche’ (78) – constituted of students’ skills and dispositions, and therefore, undermines their potential ‘learning power’ (91). This, he insists, is neither possible to teach didactically nor assimilate rapidly. While there are ‘tricks of the trade’ (91) that superficially improve school performance, meaningful progress, he alludes, requires constructivist and therapeutic approaches, as well as the educational outcomes advocated by the learning to learn (L2L) literature currently in its post-pseudoscience, fourth generation. Indeed, irrespective of a student’s transient position along the spectrum of expertise, bringing prior knowledge to bear upon a problem before instruction, developing understanding through ‘productive failure’ and ‘invention’ are shown to garner gains in retention, transferable competencies (procedural & analytic), and specialist insight (Loibl, Roll, and Rummel 2017, 693).

In the prologue, however, Claxton reasons that such progressivism appears invariably tokenistic in practice and is seldom sustained, since notions of autonomy and agency remain ‘countercultural’, and that the ‘apparatus’ of schooling, which is ‘designed for compliance’ (xxix) necessarily prevails. The ostensibly uncritical normalisation and fleeting reference to the materialisation of institutional violence is befitting of Claxton’s subscription to ‘good old-fashioned behaviourism’ (163), made explicit in Chapter Eight. His rejection of negative education and the ‘noble savage’ (9) is noted earlier in the implication of Rousseau as a contributor to a flawed extreme of progressive thinking. Claxton’s notions of discipline and tough love engendered through ‘consistent cultures of expectations, explanations and consequences’ (163) are reminiscent of Foucault’s (1991) conception of the psychosocial substitution of physical discipline, punishment and control through the revocation of identity, the rendering of bodies ‘docile,’ and similarly, Foucault’s portrayal of the school as an ‘apparatus of uninterrupted examination’ (186, 136). Indeed, Claxton (2021) insists that ‘character forming’ (23) is the business of education and that ‘school learning is not off-the-job’ (62). Laudably, he considers it a deviant and malevolent act to systematically undermine dispositions of curiosity, resilience and critical thinking, or to ‘turn a blind eye to the damage wrought’ (190). This argument is underpinned by the problematic idea, however, especially with regard to ‘students from low-income or marginal families and communities’ (p.85), that schools are responsible for their redemption from moral, social or emotional ruin. Claxton asserts that ‘thought-patterns of the family can be affirmed, developed or maybe overwritten by those of formal education’ (24) given the significant proportion of childhood spent at school.

Contrary to this portrayal of working-class children as vulnerable victims, Willis, Dolby, and Dimitriadis (2004) revealed that their perceived failures are consequent to a conscious rejection of the political and cultural implications of acceding to a curriculum, or are manifestations of agency and autonomy against the imposition of school authority. Against a purportedly Hirschian claim that holds dominant cultural knowledge should replace all else so as to ameliorate disadvantage, Claxton juxtaposes a selective reading of Willis’ thesis arguing that school resistance occurs when children’s ‘own knowledge is deemed insignificant’ (44). This reductive framing arguably absolves the brutal imposition of schooling. Little progress, it seems, since Godwin (1823) asserted that ‘all education is despotism. It is perhaps impossible for the young to be conducted without introducing in many cases the tyranny of implicit obedience’ (53). Moreover, as Ball (2018) argues, ‘educational apparatus’, is synonymous with social and structural inequality attributed to neoliberal policy discourses of ‘deliverology’ (208), public-management, standardisation, performativity, accountability, quasi-market choice and competition. Francis and Mills (2012) seminal paper unequivocally exposed the mainstream school, in its predominate structuring and normative practices, as a ‘damaging, injurious and oppressive’ organisation (253). These authors attributed the ‘brutalisation’ of pupils to ‘poisonous pedagogies’ (260) that, crucially, burgeoned under authoritarian cultures.

Claxton (2021), however, circumvents discussion of the problems raised by this literature. By analogy to Procrustes’ bed of brutality (in Greek mythology) (xxi), in which limbs are severed and bodies quartered to fit anyone perfectly into the ridged structure, he evokes a similar sense of inhumane violation and injustice. Then, he casts the DIKRist effigy as the culpable executioner. This strategy is consistently applied throughout the book. Noting that professional occupations are limited, qualifications necessarily ‘competitive and have market value only because hundreds of thousands of children have failed to get them’ (29), Claxton avers that funnelling students down the conduit of a compulsory DIKR curriculum is, by design, ‘condemning large numbers to relative failure’ (47). Though plausible, this statement speaks of an unsubstantiated extreme. It conflates pedagogy and curriculum, conveying DIKR as an undifferentiated central mandate, and neglects to consider the causal complexity of the purportedly prevalent adoption of DIKR regimes by schools at a local level, and how they manifest or vary.

Returning to Chapter One. The ‘Punch and Judy’ show and its ‘Hit or Myth’ sequel, in which ‘progs,’ personified as an inferior female in character as in type (italicised font, text indentation and hollow bullet points), retort to dominant DIKR assumptions, merely serve to caricature Claxton’s contribution as reactionary. Having perhaps derived a sense of self-realisation from this distasteful analogy, he concludes that ‘bashing cartoon images of each other is unprofitable and unedifying’ (16). Acknowledging the fads and failed efforts to engender a ‘genuinely empowering education’ (17), he maintains that progress made is visible to those willing to see. The search for a synthesis of ‘Trad’ and ‘Prog’ thinking in the development of 21^st Century pedagogy, therefore, must persist against the blockade of ‘the DIKR cabal’ (17).

Similarly, albeit more dignified in delivery, the 20^th Century pragmatist, John Dewey, criticised the human tendency to construct value systems as isms at either-or extremes. He argued that New Education (progressivism) had failed to establish a philosophical foundation as a countercultural movement perpetually reactive to, and consequently controlled by, the old which it protested. Thus, he cautioned against a complete departure from customs and tradition. He asserted,

It is the business of an intelligent theory of education to ascertain the causes for the conflicts that exist and then, instead of taking one side or the other, to indicate a plan of operations proceeding from a level deeper and more inclusive than is represented by the practices and ideas of the contending parties (Dewey 1986, 241).

Indeed, Claxton intimates that the notion of social justice in education, defined by ‘trads’ and ‘progs’ in accordance with their distinct interpretations of ‘what it means to be fully human’ (5) across cultural and socioeconomic divides, is problematic for enactment. At one extreme, education that is concerned with non-intellectual matters (emotion as opposed to reason), is believed to render children, particularly those disadvantaged, marginalised or from low-income households, perpetually vulnerable or incapable, thus preventing them from ever becoming so as to overcome their supposed disadvantages. At the other, failing to acknowledge contextual diversity and the holistic needs of children in favour of systematic acquisition of abstract knowledge is equally debilitating and dehumanising. Though he identifies to some extent with both interpretations, the progressivism he is most familiar with is neither that which nurtures ‘the illiterate snowflake’ (7) nor indulges ‘untamed savagery’ (9), rather, one which seeks to raise a ‘well-rounded’ (7) child by rebalancing the lopsided paradigm of education. He concedes, however, that his clarion call for compromise threatens to undermine DIKRists’ core principles and is thus vehemently resisted. They, allegedly, prefer to weaponise extremes as typically progressive in order to defame child-centred approaches as an abrogation of children’s rights to core cultural capital and ‘powerful knowledge’ (44), going so far as to denounce project-based learning as a means of oppressing the working class.

Titled ‘Values’, chapter two, presents the ‘river of learning and teaching’ (p.20), as an extendable metaphor that underpins Claxton’s thinking. It arguably flows through the schism between ‘trads’ and ‘progs’, subsequently outlined, as once did Dewey’s continuum of experience. It constitutes a third-space philosophy of education that holds parity in contrasted inculcations but seeks to determine outcomes and pedagogy on the basis of what best prepares young people for the ‘unprecedented challenges of life in the mid- to late 21^st century’ (30). The river, as he explains in reference to a cross-section illustration, comprises three horizontal layers representing interdependent types of learning that occur simultaneously, the pace of which decreases with depth. On the surface of the water, boats laden with subject-knowledge sail downstream with the expectation that pupils will grasp and retain the fast-moving cargo. The onus is placed on teachers to possess three interrelated skillsets, which include:

1. A firm subject knowledge; an ability to explain and question in accordance with age, ability and aptitude; and effective use of drill and repetition.

2. The assumption of a coaching role; design achievable and challenging training exercises for each individual; apply meta-cognition, provide feedback and support.

3. Their cultivation of a set of predefined ‘cultural ingredients’ to facilitate the formation of students’ broader dispositions. Most notably – indicate explicitly whether a ‘learning mode’ or a ‘performance mode’ is required from the child (22).

Below the surface, the body of water holds the skills and literacies that require ongoing development so as to master and manipulate the new knowledge above; while on the river bed, habits, attitudes and dispositions are slowly (trans)formed. These hybrid waters emphasise the moral and technical synergies in the development of ‘intellectual stamina’ (19). Just as Claxton later notes, however, regarding the misrepresentation of memory, ‘metaphors kick-start thinking … and go on to reveal the limitations of the metaphor itself’ and perhaps ironically, ‘science often proceeds by using metaphors and analogies to try and get an explanatory handle on things that are not yet understood’ (100). Indeed, taken literally, his exposition of the river falls short of considering its conditions, not least by way of tides, direction, pace, and level of the water; as well as the whereabouts of the students (passively waiting by the jetty, or in manual/motorised dinghies fighting against the current) and their readiness to navigate the river, to intercept or moor moving boats or salvage those capsized, and much more besides. Nonetheless, it offers ample scope for further development given his acknowledgement that ‘schools and classrooms are complex systems’ (182).

On to Chapter Six, where yet another of Claxton’s worthy contributions is compromised in favour of DIKRist bashing. He reveals that contemporary neuroscience is transcending the rigid capacity-orientated concepts of ‘cognitive architecture’ (92), towards an organic neural-network that is dynamically reconfigured in real time. He renders obsolete the computer-based metaphor of the mind, reminiscent of 1960/70s’ psychology, which conceived of a declarative memory and a temporary prepositional store (processor). This antiquated ‘boxology’ (101) of human cognition, he asserts, has long been used to uphold DIKR thinking, and arguably other pedagogical approaches consistent with the ‘banking concept’ of education (Freire 2005, 72), which legitimate transmission by way of ‘chunking’ (Claxton, 2021, 121) to reduce ‘cognitive load’ (96), and relentless summative testing to ensure retention as best practice.

Contrarily and perhaps most promising for future curriculum design and the development of pedagogy, is that rather than the bottleneck through which all sensory information must travel, working memory (WM) is reconceived as ‘an emergency strategy’ (107), an operation not a place; a verb, not a noun. Seldom required, it enables the mind to separate, prioritise, and temporarily hold (juggle) information when input is too fast or fragmented for instant integration (sequencing) within coherent ‘soft assemblages’ (101) of ‘neural wetware’ (104); or when it presents competing demands or distractions; or bears irreconcilable ideas, or is counterintuitive to pre-existing schemas. Explicated in this way, the conditions of WM seem to map onto the three layers of learning and further rationalise the mainstream integration of problem- and project-based learning approaches. Claxton supports this argument by briefly drawing on ‘4E Cognition … a model of the mind which is enactive, embodied, embedded and extended, as opposed to the computational model which is rational, cerebral, isolated and self-sufficient’ (112). The emotional, emergent, and entangled are other models which further emphasise the distributed yet interwoven complexities of extracranial cognition. Claxton concludes that brains vary extensively from the neuroscientific composite of ‘normal’ derived from the average. Each with a unique ‘signature of activation’ (181) develops differently and at a varying rate.

In Chapter Seven on ‘Teaching’, Claxton avers that this art is thus multidimensional, contingent, and requires a ‘blended approach’ (128). He concedes that ‘casting DI and discovery learning as polar opposites is naïve and counterproductive’ (143). His two-tier approach promotes the use of an extended project as a hook to incentivise learning, develop skills and gain insight into the process of discovery and disciplined enquiry; and the teaching of thinking skills by way of four types of delivery: general, immersed, infusion or mixed. It is important to note that through the river of learning, Claxton offers disposition in addition to ability as a variable shaped by external forces (social environmental and institutional), which can become a barrier to learning in unconducive cultures. This subtle distinction transcends the medical deficit model, innateness, and individualisation strategies that discriminate on the basis of (dis)ability. It implicates inequitable practice, pedagogy and provisions as opposed to the person and should thus empower marginalised groups to stand against the ‘brutal pessimism’ (152), which holds there is no use in trying with those who purportedly lack ability or are low-attaining.

Onwards from here, however, are three remaining chapters that evoke in title far more substance than they deliver beyond what has already been discussed, and are over-peppered with more sweeping criticism of DIKR. They comprise ‘Reality – getting out more’, (144), ‘Research – but what kind?’ (170), and finally, ‘The Future of Teaching’ (185).