This weekend, I was reading around the last comments from the Twitter community Ukedchat having mostly missed the live event on Thursday. The talk this week was all about differentiation, something about which I know I have strong but indistinct thoughts.
As I slipped in and out of the chat, the phrase 'no differentiation' caught my eye. In the modern climate, this is educational sacrilege. Along with the three part lesson, interactive displays, phonics, the use of the interactive whiteboard and teacher modelling, differentiation has a status amongst the powers in education of an unjustified and unevidenced sacred cow. You cannot choose not to do it if you are being observed; the observer would assume that children will not progress without the deployment of a couple of dozen learning styles along with about nine different worksheets (targetted to a level predetermined by AfL) and a teacher guided group. In the shadows a TA may be navigating an IEP or administering a support programme. 'Everyone is learning because there has been differentiation' is the maxim.
But as I thought about it, I saw that instead of leaving children exposed to not learning, the idea of no differentiation offered a clear outcome for the lesson. Children could have a task and try to get on with it. As they worked through, there would be mistakes and errors. There might be some tension or upset. But there would certainly be learning.
The disconnect that I have experienced over the last few years is that the more I differentiate (i.e. try to manage the learning) the less learning happens. This is worst in maths, where a 'correctly' differentiated lesson results in such smooth progress that little meaning is made by the pupils. So, effectively their skills and knowledge increase well but they are unable to reapply these in any meaningful way. Without the need to discover, to explore, to try and to fail, no-one really learns anything.
On Friday, I gave my class a few challenges. They proved to be adventurous, reflective, imaginative and thoughtful. Then, when we started the maths in a more formal way this dissolved for some pupils. We then talked about why this could be (in a positive and supportive way of course!). The discussion was certainly rewarding for me. One member of the class gave an eloquent explanation of learning styles. Others talked about emotions in a clear and mature way. What became clear was that they wanted to play games, work outside and so on. They argued with inexcapable logic that they would progress if we did fun stuff every day. I would love to deliver informal work every day. But the SATs won't be like that.
So, I planned for the week using differentiation. I shall continue to work with groups. My colleagues are poised to unleash support programmes. I will, however, experiment with different ways of managing learning, hopefully involving less managing and more learning. Instead, I shall be sure to concentrate on teaching, talking and feeding back. As Terry Pratchett once put it, through the mouth of a character of course, "I might just let you learn."
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