Oct 09

“Moving towards board diversity”, not “Giving into political correctness”

I have been mulling over this blog for a couple of weeks now, and I would be interested to hear what people think. It stems from an experience I had at a recent conference, where I attended a session about which I shall be deliberately vague: I don’t want to appear to be ‘naming and shaming’, but instead would rather have space to explore the issues which emerged, and reflect upon what happened and its wider significance.

The conference session was in the form of a panel of around 8 participants from the same company, and the first curious aspect about the contributors were that they were all men. Perhaps this might not have mattered in some contexts, but this session was about global economic perspectives, and it seemed rather odd not to have at least a female voice, as the female economic experience in many settings globally can be starkly different from the male. Digging deeper, a quick online search revealed that the Board of the company represented were almost all men, with a single female voice whose background and role description seemed to suggest that she was secretary to the Board rather than an integral part of it (I fully accept that I may be entirely wrong on this point; nonetheless, there was certainly only one actual woman on their Board).

As the moment for questions arrived, I realised that I was not the only person to feel a sense of discomfort at an emerging picture of lack of diversity. Before even the managing director had asked for questions from the floor, a host of female hands shot up, and the first to speak noted carefully and with emphasis that she was the first woman to be heard that day. This prompted a range of rebuttals from the panel – there were of course female Heads of Section, and it was just chance that they weren’t there. In fact, what a surprise it was to everyone on the panel that there weren’t any women there – they hadn’t really noticed. And they all knew women, of course, who were very good chaps really (I may be using a little artistic licence in that last statement, but it nonetheless communicates accurately the rather unfortunate, although obviously well-meaning, sentiment that was exhibited).

What really took me aback, however, was a conversation I had with the Chairman of the Board immediately after the session. I approached him to say that I was sure that he felt that diversity was really important, and that I knew a charity that could help him (Changing the Chemistry, that is, for readers who don’t know all my affiliations; I also talked about Women on Boards). His response was quite blunt: he did not believe in “giving into political correctness” and wasn’t interested in being “pushed into appointing women for the sake of it”.

Our conversation took place rather comically, now that I reflect on it. I am 1m 60 tall on a (very) good day; he was closer to 2m and was also still perched on the stage while I stood on the floor, which meant that he towered over me and has to reach down to take the cards I proffered. An onlooker could read all sorts of symbolism into the tableau, I am sure. At the time, however, I was more struck and unsettled by his antagonism, although I smiled cheerfully and departed, leaving him, I hoped, with as positive impression as possible of the words ‘diversity’ and ‘help’.

As I reflected further and discussed this conversation with other attendees, my sense of unease grew. Maybe, I thought, I had phrased my introduction badly, so as to elicit a bad-tempered response, but when I ran it over again in my head, I didn’t think I had. I certainly didn’t mean to be aggressive in any way – on the contrary. When I thought further about it, what really made me uneasy was the lack of openness to gender diversity and potentially therefore to diversity in its wider sense – ethnic, geographical etc, and, most importantly perhaps, diversity of thought. It was the sense that a growing social awareness of, and focus on, diversity in companies and on boards was an annoyance, an irritation, a distraction from the successful work of successful organisations, who have worked out how to operate in long-established and – so far – relatively successful ways. And it was the realisation that unless powerful leaders of companies open their minds to what diversity could bring to their business, nothing will change, or will change only very slowly.

We know that diversity on boards pays off – as Lord Davies put it in the introduction to his report on Women on Boards in 2011, boards perform better “when they include the best people who come from a range of perspectives and backgrounds”. Fundamentally, in fact, it is a question of how we believe we should treat other human beings in our world. If we subscribe to the core values of respect for others, of equality, of acceptance of difference, and an acknowledgement that truth may lie in how others view the world, then we have to recognise too the immense value in drawing on the voices of others as we engage in all our activities. After all, we can’t know what we don’t know – and arguably the only way to develop our knowledge (and our wisdom) is to turn to more diverse perspectives, and to learn to listen to them without prejudice.

So – what more do we need to do to in order to provoke a positive rather than a defensive reaction to an suggestion to help increase diversity? Who do we need to act as advocates for diversity? What do we need to do to sustain the amazing efforts already underway in the UK and further afield to spread an understanding of the tremendous value of diversity of thought?

And why is it important that we address and seek to answer these questions? Because one thing I learned at that conference was that we really have a lot still to do to ensure that diversity is welcomed – indeed, actively sought out – in some of our leading business spheres. And while there are people at the top who still dismiss diversity as mere “political correctness”, we can’t keep relying on blind hope that it will change.

 

Sep 20

‘Periodic tales’: what the chemical elements remind us about education

As part of this year’s uplifting Oxford University Alumni Weekend, a panel of speakers led an engaging session inspired by Hugh Aldersey-Williams’ new book, ‘Periodic Tales: The Curious Lives of the Elements’. The author himself spoke, and explored how artists, sculptors and poets across the ages have used the elements, imbuing them with meaning and significance. This meaning, it became fascinatingly clear, has not been attributed arbitrarily, and the talk highlighted how intrinsically linked this meaning was with the scientific properties of the chemicals themselves: their scarcity or abundance, for instance, as well as their reactivity and their origins.

These links run strong and deep: the scientific qualities of elements enhance the cultural, and vice versa. This is why, for instance, Anthony Gormley’s sculpture, Fuse 2011, speaks to us so powerfully: cast in iron – a component of human blood – and rusted red, this image of a man lying face down is striking and visceral. His faceless, largely featureless contours are marked by the flat, angular facets of a metallic element which circulates within us and upon which we depend – in this sculpture, the hidden element is exposed, and magnified so that the form is no longer human and yet still recognisably so very human. This is science and art fused in a single, meaningful whole, which is undeniably greater than the sum of the individual parts.

In essence, the talk served to introduce a holistic perspective of the chemical elements, and the audience was encouraged to see the chemical elements through the lens of art and literature, and as an integrated part of our cultural understanding. The book sits behind an imminent curated exhibition at Compton Verney, near Stratford-upon-Avon; with pieces by Anthony Gormley, John Constable, Thomas Heatherwick and Eduardo Paolozzi, amongst many others, this intriguing exhibition sounds as though it will be well worth the effort to visit it.

What was so interesting about the talk – and the concept behind both book and exhibition – is a process of thinking which we would be wise to apply to other contexts where we seek learning and enlightenment. The session took place in a lecture theatre dominated by a large printed copy of the periodic table as we are used to seeing it, with the elements neatly separated out into rows and columns. By drawing them out and categorising them over years of work, we have understood them better; the words and pictures of the talk being conducted in the shadow of this table, however, encouraged us to think about fusing these understandings back into the complex and integrated worlds which we inhabit – physical, psychological, emotional, spiritual. It is as if we were witnessing the extraction of an element from its source, followed by its examination and finally its reintegration into a functioning, living role. As a result of this process, we were better able to understand, appreciate and fundamentally to know the element – and its scope and potential. Each element may have an identifiable individual existence of its own, but it has a greater existence as part of a larger and more complex whole. When we realise and embrace this, we gain new insights and our understanding grows and deepens – sometimes immeasurably.

Education systems are generally very good at the extraction and examination of substances, thoughts, ideas, events, processes; school and university examinations and assessments depend on this forensic dissection. Education systems are sometimes less good at the process of reintegration, of recognising that individual elements have a greater purpose as part of a larger universe. As the ‘Periodic Tales’ remind us, we miss out – and may indeed miss the point entirely – when we overlook this.

 

Sep 08

Learning from ants: the power of social connection

Standing on the upper concourse of London Waterloo station this morning, looking down at all the people moving purposefully to and from the platforms, I was reminded very strongly of something I had spotted earlier in the summer while on holiday. One afternoon, sitting outside in the sun, I noticed movement on the paving stones beneath my chair; on closer inspection this proved to be a piece of food, being transported by a group of ants. While there was an apparent (and probably deceptive) lack of coordination in the movements of other ants, who were scurrying backwards and forward around the ants who were doing the heavy lifting, the actions of the main body of ants were unmistakably deliberate and focused. There was no doubt about it: the piece of food was being transported in a determined and efficient manner, and as directly as possible, it was clear, towards what I assumed must be the ants’ home base – their nest.

It was not an insubstantial piece of food. In fact, if scaled up to stand alongside a human, it would likely balloon to an object that was a good few metres tall, long and wide. A single ant could not have carried it; together, however, around 15 ants were managing the task. A quick delve into the habits of ants reveals that – in as far as we have been able to identify this – ants achieve these feats of weightlifting because of the high proportion of muscle mass in their very small bodies. An Asian Weaver ant can reportedly carry up to 100 times its body weight. Moreover, scientists have discovered that an ant’s neck joint is able to withstand pressures of up to 5,000 times the ant’s weight. When the weight of an even heavier object is distributed amongst several ants, the amount that can be transported collectively is astonishingly high.

Human beings may lack some of these physiological features (and in any case usually have neither the opportunity nor, thankfully, the need to transport super-enormous chunks of food). As manifested at Waterloo station, however, the similarities between human behaviour and the behaviour of ants are striking. All the people at Waterloo were travelling somewhere, moving together in groups, with a purpose that was almost certainly, in most cases, linked to personal need and to the need of others – travelling to work in order to support a family, for instance. They were all using shared infrastructure (trains, taxis, roads) and shared services (shops, cash machines, cafes) that have been designed and made and staffed by other human beings in order to facilitate communal movement and/or respond to communal needs for sustenance of all kinds, from the physical to the intellectual. When we step back and look at the world around us, seeing afresh, in moments of enlightenment, how so much of what we take for granted has come into being, then we can gain a deeper and much more powerful appreciation of what human society means in practice. It is really quite remarkable.

So – just a reminder: when we think we are doing things alone, we aren’t. We are surrounded by, and are benefiting from, the efforts of other human beings – those around us and those who have gone before.

Oh … and like the ants, let us not forget that in everything we do, together we are stronger.

 

Sep 01

Singing out for a bright – and shared – future: the Dloko High School Choir

The annual Edinburgh International Festival came to an end last night with a bang – literally, in fact, as explosions of fireworks rained down on the castle, watched by thousands. The night before, however, there were explosions of a different kind, as the Dloko High School Choir gave the last of its vibrant and powerful performances at the Festival Fringe. With foot-stamping and glass-breakingly strong vocals, the choir left an indelible impression on the audience at the Assembly Rooms, and sent them utterly joyous on their way.

The story of the choir is a moving and an inspiring one, not least because the astonishing power of their music belies the poverty from which its members hail. Aged 16-21, the choir members all come from schools in and around the township of Umlazi, outside Durban, South Africa. Apartheid may have been officially dismantled over 25 years ago, but the scars of separation remain deeply embedded, and Umlazi is a case in point in this respect.

Umlazi is the third largest township in South Africa, after Soweto and Tenbisa, and life in the township – a life where crime offers perhaps the most seductive route to any form of success – was captured in Sifiso Mzobe’s award-winning debut novel, Young Blood (Mzobe was himself a speaker at the 2015 Edinburgh International Book Festival). Despite investment in infrastructure and increasingly in education, the township remains incredibly poor, and when the Dloko High School choir made their Edinburgh debut last summer, part of the money raised by Edinburgh charity Iris Initiative to bring them to Scotland was used to buy all the young people basics such as proper shoes.

Last year’s performances brought enough money back to the Umlazi community to fund 7 scholarships to university, and this year the choir has hopes of making an even greater difference on their return. Their determination was palpable, as was their openness, evident in the strength of the relationships they had built with their host families over the course of their stay in the country. Scratch beneath the surface, too, and there were glimpses of the huge effort needed to bring this visit to fruition – the vision, focus and sheer hard work of the people working for and with the charity behind the venture was almost incomprehensible impressive.

Sunday’s final performance was electrifying from start to finish – the sounds challenged and enveloped the audience, lifting them up and inspiring them, too, to believe in the power of the human spirit. The choir have raised funds, and will continue to do so; they are also raising hopes, sharing joy and humanity, and bringing us all together.

If they can make a difference in the world, so can any one of us.

 

Aug 17

Marie Curie, the Edinburgh Fringe, and the Women of America

Playing now at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival is the final instalment in Tangram Theatre’s ‘Scientrilogy’ – a series of three one-man plays about the lives of great scientists. Charles Darwin and Albert Einstein have debuted in previous years; 2015 has marked the appearance of the great female scientist, Marie Curie. If you have the opportunity to see it, do – it is a vibrant, funny, informative and slightly irreverent (but also profoundly serious) production, and you will be singing about radium all the way home … (yes, really).

There is much in the life of Marie Curie that was remarkable, not least her scientific prowess and her commitment – with her husband – to making her findings publicly available, so that she did not become rich on the outcomes of her research, but rather contributed astonishingly to the development of medical science in the 20th century. One particular part of her story, however, caught my attention.

In 1920, an American journalist – Marie Mattingley Meloney, who was also a pioneer in her field, succeeded in obtaining an interview with the notably reticent Marie Curie in Paris. During the course of their discussions, Mrs Meloney realised that all Marie Curie’s philanthropic efforts had taken their toll on her store of radium, which had dwindled to the point of zero. What Marie Curie wanted more than anything at that point was more radium, so that she could continue her research, and Mrs Meloney decided that she would help her achieve this.

Raising the $100,000 needed to purchase a single gram of radium was never going to be an easy task, but Mrs Meloney set about it with vigour, and put out a call to the ‘Women of America’, asking for their help in female solidarity. The women of America responded, and contributed funds in varying amounts; amazingly, in an early example of successful crowd-funding, the sum was raised and Marie Curie’s visit to collect her new gram of radium from the President in 1921 was triumphant.

History tells us who we are, if only we let it, and sometimes the forgotten moments of history can be the most telling. Female solidarity is an immensely powerful movement. The Marie Curies of the future should take note – they need only reach out, and they may be both humbled and surprised by the help they will find.

It is good to remind ourselves of the potential of humanity to do good, to share, and to help others. Oh, and – if you are free and have an hour spare in Edinburgh – do see the show!

 

Jul 21

Why we need the Arts in a STEM world

I am a great believer in the power of technology – in its broadest sense – to take the human race forward. I appreciate the power of innovation and creativity in science, technology, engineering and maths, and I know that we must invest in teaching our young people about the value of these subjects, because they have not received enough attention or focus in recent years, and as a result the balance in our world of employment is out of kilter, with not enough scientists, technology experts, engineers and mathematicians to fulfil the requirements we have to maintain and develop the progress we need to make the world cleaner, safer, more productive and perhaps even happier and more balanced.

I therefore had a lot of sympathy with Nicky Morgan, UK Government Secretary of State for Education, when she said recently that encouraging more young people – especially girls – to study STEM subjects was a vital part of the UK education plan. It would be wrong, however, to see this as an exclusive edict – STEM subjects are of course incredibly valuable, and there is no doubt whatsoever that girls and women are underrepresented in the field, which is (at best) a heinous waste of resource and opportunity. To make STEM the focus of all attention to the exclusion of the arts, however, would be foolish and ultimately self-limiting.

I am currently immersed in Richard Flanagan’s 2014 Man Booker Prize Winner, ‘The Narrow Road to the Deep North’. It tells the story of Dorrigo Evans, an Australian doctor and almost accidental hero in WWII, struggling to keep himself – and his fellow men – alive in the (beyond) terrible conditions of the building of the Burma-Siam railway. In describing an early scene in the book, the author writes: “there was around them so much that was incomprehensible, incommunicable, unintelligible, undivinable, indescribable” … and the power of these words, which explicitly do not communicate or describe, communicates and describes more accurately than almost anything else the horror of the circumstances in which the Diggers found themselves. The power of the chosen word, the authored word, is immense: it conveys us back in time to places where we are glad never to have gone, but which we know we must recreate in our memories so as to be repelled and to speak out against them in the  future, should the need arise. To such an end, the power of science bows to the power of the arts.

Later in the novel, in a flashback to 1940, when Dorrigo finds himself in a bookshop in Adelaide, looking for an old copy of Virgil’s Aeneid, the author writes that it wasn’t really Virgil’s great poem that Dorrigo Evans wanted, but rather the ‘aura’ of such books – “an aura that both radiated outwards and took him inwards to another world that said to him that he was not alone”. In fact, this feeling was so powerful that at such times, as the author describes it, “he had the sensation that there was only one book in the universe, and that all books were simply portals into this greater ongoing work – an inexhaustible, beautiful world that was not imaginary but the world as it truly was, a book without beginning or end”.

The beauty of human literary creation, contrasted with the horrors of the inhumanity of the war, which in terrible irony are communicated with force and impact through the very same literary beauty by the author, is breathtaking. Science may explain the horrors of the Burma-Siam project – the engineering of the railway itself, the biology of the human body as it faced intolerable strain, the psychology of the captors and the prisoners … but the art of the writer is needed to bring this home to us.

Do read Richard Flanagan’s ‘The Narrow Road to the Deep North’ if you haven’t already done so – and as it drags you into an understanding of the horror that human beings can inflict on one another, and connects you with our human past, and reinvigorates you in your determination to do your bit to ensure that this never happens again, take a moment too to be thankful to the author and to his literary education and experience. Above all, allow it to remind you why we should never, ever, lose sight of the importance of the arts in our world in addition to the sciences. Without them working in tandem – and no matter how much we elevate STEM in national education plans – we will not make progress.

 

Jun 28

It IS rocket science – and we CAN all do it

I am very proud of my new felt bookmark. It is a visible and tangible reminder of the recent NCGS conference I attended in the U.S., and I have taken great delight in the past few days in showing it to friends, family, acquaintances and, in my enthusiasm, sometimes complete strangers. It consists of two pieces of felt – one purple, one green, held together by a central machine stitch, on to which I – as part of a hands-on session at the conference – stitched a flower design around two LEDs linked in series to a battery with conductive thread.

When you switch the battery on, the lights – which I placed at the centre of the two flowers – come on; when you switch the battery off, the lights go off. Simple as we may think it, it is a thing of wonder. Switch on and the light illuminates; switch off and the light disappears. How this happens is, of course, through a combination of materials (invented by humans) and human logic. A battery, conductive thread and two small LEDs are lined up in order so that the thread connects positive output to positive output and avoids crossing over itself so as to keep the integrity of the connection … simple circuitry that we learn in school.

And yet that too is a thing of wonder – that at some point in the not-too-distant past, human beings used their logic and creativity not only to work out how to make electricity flow, and to then to design the materials that would replicate this many, many times over, for other human beings to use, and then to extend its use so that rockets could go to the moon, amongst other things; but also to identify that this was something that young human beings should learn in the places – schools – that yet more human beings had collectively decided were essential for teaching human beings how to engage their own innate logic and creativity to allow them to build on the discoveries and inventions of previous eras and to take the knowledge of the world forward, so that even more people can benefit in the future.

We take so much of what is around us for granted. In fact, sometimes we take it so much for granted that we forget that it is ordinary people who have invented, built and developed so much of what we have and use. And if they could do it, so can we, and so can our children. As we teach our children about the knowledge we have garnered over centuries, we also need to teach them that these inventions prove that they absolutely have it within themselves to invent, create, develop and build.

Electronics, technology and computers – real ‘rocket science’ – are not too complex or beyond the grasp of the normal child or adult. They are all built on simple human logic and creativity, and we can all understand and develop them further. Teaching coding in schools is not something to be afraid of or to resist as difficult and unusual – it just reminds us that computers would not exist without us, and that we have entirely within our grasp the capacity to build the next steps in the future of technology that will help make a difference in our world.

And that truly is a thing of wonder.

 

Jun 23

“You can’t be what you can’t see”

Richmond, Virginia, USA is beautiful at this time of the year. Warm, green, relaxed … and, currently, host to several hundred passionate educators of girls who are attending the annual conference of the National Coalition of Girls’ Schools, the theme of which this year is ‘From STEM to STEAM: Girls’ Schools Leading the Way’. A host of keynote speakers and presenters have been running sessions on a huge variety of inspiring topics related to STEM and STEAM learning and careers, and the messages are strong, and upbeat. After all, technology continues to evolve and develop at a phenomenal rate, but it doesn’t do this of its own accord – people are needed to make this happen, and to invent, create, solve problems, innovate, run, organise. A plethora of opportunities, careers and roles in this area of human endeavour await all of our young people.

Young women, however, continue to be underrepresented in STEM and STEAM tertiary education courses and careers. In fact, according to the inspiring Maria Klawe from Harvey Mudd College, in the case of Computer Science courses in U.S. universities, female representation has in fact dropped over the past 30 years, from more than 30% to less than 15%. Yet Computer Science graduates are predicted to have the best job (and therefore financial) prospects over the next two decades … this, as Reshma Saujani, CEO of Girls Who Code pointed out, is actually a serious issue of gender equality and pay equity.

So how can we really, really address this situation? Well, starting by implementing even some of the strategies highlighted at the conference would help; one powerful and common theme to emerge, however, was that girls absolutely need more role models in STEM or STEAM subjects – and especially in computer science / coding / digital technologies. “You can’t be what you can’t see” – this message has resonated throughout the conference, in presentations and discussions. Essentially, we need to find ways in which to introduce girls to older girls and women who are comfortable and working already in STEM and STEAM areas. From introducing pupil-led creative coding projects into the curriculum, to planning and running aspirational careers conferences, or organising work experience in the tech industry … all and every strategy can help girls to see that this is an exciting area in which they could excel.

What was also clear is that there are two other key messages we must take away and act on: first, that as adults (parents as well as educators), we need to shed our own inhibitions and fears about technology – we don’t know everything, nor should we, and we nonetheless bring our wisdom and understandings to the new knowledge and experiences that young people develop as they explore the world of STEM and STEAM. If we fear this new world, we inhibit and undermine our girls; one of the worst messages we can give girls, as female role models, is that we were no good at Maths, or we don’t approve of gaming, or that science, computers and engineering are somehow messy and undesirable. We have to embrace and explicitly approve of all of this, as well as encouraging our girls just to go for it (the message of my session on girls and online gaming).

Secondly – and perhaps most importantly – this is urgent. There is no time to waste – every day that passes without action is a lost opportunity. If we want to facilitate change, then every day we need actively to encourage our girls to enjoy playing with computers, to be creative with technology and to come into contact with other girls and women who are enjoying and being creative in this area.

So … no time to lose! And I can pretty much guarantee that there will be several hundred educators headed out from Richmond tomorrow, back to their schools all over the world, from the US to Australia to the UK, who are not planning to sit back and wait.

 

Jun 21

Computer coding: definitely women’s work

The movie choice on BA0067 from Heathrow to Phildelphia on Saturday was very apt for educators who were headed to the conference of the National Coalition of Girls’ Schools in Richmond Virginia, which takes place from 22 June to 24 June. The theme of the conference is ‘From STEM to STEAM – Girls’ Schools Leading the Way’, and the airborne film selection included the Oscar and BAFTA award-winning ‘The Imitation Game’.

Starring Benedict Cumberbatch as Alan Turing, ‘The Imitation Game’ tells the story of the cryptoanalysts at Bletchley Park in WWII, who built the machine that was to break the German Enigma code and end the war an estimated 2 years earlier than might otherwise have been the case. The story was of the triumph of mathematics over physical force, and of the groundbreaking innovation that lead to the invention of computers; the story also exposed threads of direct relevance to those of us travelling to a conference whose main focus is to demonstrate the work that still needs to be done – the ground that still needs to be broken – in order to ensure that the creativity of all humankind can be brought to bear on the development of technology that has the potential still to have enormously positive effects on our lives.

It was fascinating to watch unfold on screen the (now breathtakingly embarrassing) way in which Joan Clarke’s achievements were underplayed simply because she was a woman. Clarke, Alan Turing’s one-time fiancée, played slightly implausibly in the film by Keira Knightley, was in real-life an alumna of a girls’ school and of Newnham College Cambridge, where despite gaining a double-first, she was denied a full degree, as Cambridge did not award degrees to women until 1948. It behoves us to remember that this is very recent history, as it helps us to understand why so much prejudice remains embedded in our social perceptions of gender; nonetheless, we can quite rightly also be horrified at how differently her mental agility was appreciated at the time.

It was equally fascinating to see on screen, however, the suspicions and prejudices against technology and the battle of the physical versus the cerebral – again, a tension with which many will be familiar. Bring both prejudices together – that of gender and of intellect – and it is not hard to see why, in the years after the war, computer work was seen (degradingly) as low-skilled ‘women’s work’, and more computer programmers were female than male. It had a positive benefit – this is why women had such an impact on important advances in technology, and the photo circulated widely in recent months of the Apollo engineer Margaret Hamilton, standing next to the code which took Apollo 11 to the moon, is a powerful symbol of this. (The photo and an interview with Margaret Hamilton can be seen here.)

The benefit was unintended, and was not to last. If you haven’t already read it, read this article which refers to the work of Professor Nathan Ensmenger in exposing the shifts in gender perception in computer programming. To summarise his findings: as computer programming began to rise in status, women – who had been leading the way in the field – were effectively demoted, and it became a male-dominated career. It is ironic that women – who once dominated in the industry – now only make up around 10% of it. There is ground to be made up.

Great movies – especially watched in-flight – prompt us to take the time to reflect. Flying is of itself a feat of technical and electronic engineering. So too are all the airport and airline systems which enable the transportation of luggage and people halfway around the world and bring them together in one piece at the end. And so too are the communications technologies which allow us to speak with family at a distance, make connections and live and work across different time zones. There is so much more that technology can do for us, however, and it is just waiting to be created. Our children will invent, imagine and do all of this; as educators we just need to release them all – and definitely girls as well as boys – and to show them that they are no longer limited by the bounds of history.

Women’s work, indeed.

 

Jun 19

Recruiting great teachers: the role of ambitious school leaders

Sir Michael Wilshaw is rarely uncontroversial, and at times his talk on teacher recruitment at the Wellington College Festival of Education, true to form, ruffled more than a few feathers. However, it was hard to argue with his key message, namely that we need to recruit more great teachers, and we need to think creatively about how we do this.

As Sir Michael pointed out, school teacher recruitment has always been an issue – ever since schools were invented. More and more children in the world mean more and more schools are needed, which in turn means that more and more teachers are always needed. How can we do this effectively?

Research that will be published later this year by HMI into teacher recruitment will indicate – so Sir Michael reliably informed us – that there is a challenge to be met in our society around the perceived status of teachers, which has come under threat in a media-driven world which delights in exaggerating the unusual and difficult. “Patronising caricatures” of teachers, and the inexorable rise of gritty reality TV, have painted a picture of teachers which does not reflect the high standards and excellence of so many of the profession. No new entrant to the profession wants to be tarred with negativity; part of the answer to renewing teacher recruitment is for public figures and outlets to be aware of their responsibility in this regard.

A further part of the answer lies in local teacher training. It is perhaps a self-evident truth that many would-be teachers are keen to train in the geographical areas where they currently reside, or where they intend to set up home. Yet the choice of teacher-training institutions is limited, and while the argument for solely school-based teacher training is a fraught one, some creative thinking around how to bring teacher training into all areas of cities and countries would be welcome.

Finally, however, Sir Michael spoke up for the role of Heads and senior leaders in recruiting teachers, both in encouraging young people to respect and appreciate their teachers, and in supporting new teachers so that they remain in the profession. Heads can make a huge difference to the career progression of young and new teachers, through mentoring, giving advice, providing opportunities and developing their professional skills and abilities. The more that this becomes the norm – and it is already significantly the case, although not widely reported – the more resilient in its approach to wider recruitment the teaching profession can be. Perhaps the commitment on the part of the Head actively to support new teachers, with a view to impacting positively on the wider goal of teacher recruitment, should be an integral part of the selection criteria for new Heads.

Being a Head is not always (if ever!) easy. When asked by a member of the audience why he thought that more deputy heads did not want to become Heads, Sir Michael was typically blunt and said they should just have the courage to move into Headship; those of us who have been Heads and who help to recruit Heads know that it takes more than courage to be able to be an excellent Head. One prerequisite for Headship, however, is that of ambition for the education sector and the education profession. The more that Heads can do to support new and aspiring teachers, the sooner that ambition will be fulfilled.

 

I attended the Wellington College Festival of Education in my capacity as an Associate of LSC Education, which supports schools and education organisations, globally, to attract and recruit outstanding leaders.