This week on the Guardian Teacher Network there are resources based on the stories of men who survived prisoner-of-war camps in the Far East
By secondary school, most pupils will have heard of the concentration camps of the second world war. They will certainly know of the Holocaust, Anne Frank and what happened to children who were evacuated from London.
But what do they know of the British men who went to fight in the Far East and were captured and subjected to years of neglect, near-starvation, disease and slave labour? Probably very little. These men's stories have remained largely unheard – until now.
In a unique project Meg Parkes, a researcher from the Liverpool School of Tropical Medicine (LSTM), has been recording the memories of 62 Far East prisoners of war (FEPoWs) to put on a website for secondary school pupils.
Of the 50,000 men who became Far East prisoners of war, only 37,500 were finally liberated from the labour camps. Many of those who returned in late 1945 became patients at LSTM.
The numbers of these men are now dwindling and many are in their 90s.
The stories of their imprisonment, forced labour and transportation remained repressed for many years after liberation, because many simply could not revisit such painful memories. But now they want their stories to be heard by future generations.
A selection of the interviews is available on the Guardian Teacher Network, our new resource website, for teachers to download and share with pupils.
They range from the tale of Fergus Anckhorn, who discovered how his magic tricks with a tin of fish or a banana became an essential tool in his battle to survive, to the compelling words of Cyril Jones who, injured and stranded in the jungle, was befriended by a monkey who showed him how to eat bamboo shoots – and stay alive.
Maurice Naylor, 90, was captured in Singapore. He says: "The war in the Far East tends to be overlooked, especially the thousands upon thousands of young men who, as PoWs, suffered and died from overwork, starvation and disease.
"When I was released, I didn't want to know; I pushed it to the back of my mind. I couldn't talk about it. I had nightmares. But I had to get on with my life."
When he retired, Maurice visited Thailand and saw his fellow soldiers' graves. He decided it was time to speak.
"At first it was difficult to talk. It set me back, dredging up old memories. But it is important – I want to do my bit. We all lost our youth there."
With the help of the Heritage Lottery Fund, LSTM set up the website www.captivememories.org.uk to catalogue and provide some background to the men's interviews.
At Pensby high school for girls in The Wirral, year 7 girls were prompted to imagine they were animals witnessing the imprisonment of these men, and they came up with pieces of creative writing showing deep understanding of the prisoners' plight. Some of that creative writing has, in turn, become part of a booklet for Ness Botanic Gardens, which has a bamboo-themed garden designed in collaboration with the girls. Ness also has a free educational audio trail, also available on the Guardian Teacher Network. For more details see www.liv.ac.uk/nessgardens.
You can hear the prisoners of war tell their stories.
• The Guardian Teacher Network offers more than 70,000 pages of lesson plans and interactive materials. This is being added to every day by teachers and specialists; 35,000 teachers have already registered. To see (and share) for yourself, go to teachers.guardian.co.uk. There are also nearly 2,000 jobs and schools can advertise free: schoolsjobs. guardian.co.uk.
This week on the Guardian Teacher Network there are resources based on the stories of men who survived prisoner-of-war camps in the Far East
By secondary school, most pupils will have heard of the concentration camps of the second world war. They will certainly know of the Holocaust, Anne Frank and what happened to children who were evacuated from London.
But what do they know of the British men who went to fight in the Far East and were captured and subjected to years of neglect, near-starvation, disease and slave labour? Probably very little. These men's stories have remained largely unheard – until now.
In a unique project Meg Parkes, a researcher from the Liverpool School of Tropical Medicine (LSTM), has been recording the memories of 62 Far East prisoners of war (FEPoWs) to put on a website for secondary school pupils.
Of the 50,000 men who became Far East prisoners of war, only 37,500 were finally liberated from the labour camps. Many of those who returned in late 1945 became patients at LSTM.
The numbers of these men are now dwindling and many are in their 90s.
The stories of their imprisonment, forced labour and transportation remained repressed for many years after liberation, because many simply could not revisit such painful memories. But now they want their stories to be heard by future generations.
A selection of the interviews is available on the Guardian Teacher Network, our new resource website, for teachers to download and share with pupils.
They range from the tale of Fergus Anckhorn, who discovered how his magic tricks with a tin of fish or a banana became an essential tool in his battle to survive, to the compelling words of Cyril Jones who, injured and stranded in the jungle, was befriended by a monkey who showed him how to eat bamboo shoots – and stay alive.
Maurice Naylor, 90, was captured in Singapore. He says: "The war in the Far East tends to be overlooked, especially the thousands upon thousands of young men who, as PoWs, suffered and died from overwork, starvation and disease.
"When I was released, I didn't want to know; I pushed it to the back of my mind. I couldn't talk about it. I had nightmares. But I had to get on with my life."
When he retired, Maurice visited Thailand and saw his fellow soldiers' graves. He decided it was time to speak.
"At first it was difficult to talk. It set me back, dredging up old memories. But it is important – I want to do my bit. We all lost our youth there."
With the help of the Heritage Lottery Fund, LSTM set up the website www.captivememories.org.uk to catalogue and provide some background to the men's interviews.
At Pensby high school for girls in The Wirral, year 7 girls were prompted to imagine they were animals witnessing the imprisonment of these men, and they came up with pieces of creative writing showing deep understanding of the prisoners' plight. Some of that creative writing has, in turn, become part of a booklet for Ness Botanic Gardens, which has a bamboo-themed garden designed in collaboration with the girls. Ness also has a free educational audio trail, also available on the Guardian Teacher Network. For more details see www.liv.ac.uk/nessgardens.
You can hear the prisoners of war tell their stories.
• The Guardian Teacher Network offers more than 70,000 pages of lesson plans and interactive materials. This is being added to every day by teachers and specialists; 35,000 teachers have already registered. To see (and share) for yourself, go to teachers.guardian.co.uk. There are also nearly 2,000 jobs and schools can advertise free: schoolsjobs. guardian.co.uk.
A week after the white paper, its implications for students and for universities are sinking in
'Places will be taken away and given to private providers'
Bahram Bekhradnia, director, Higher Education Policy Institute
I had thought that the 20,000 places a year being auctioned would increase only if the government continued to find itself over-budget. But clearly they will increase steadily as a matter of policy. What is going on is that these are the numbers that will be made available to private providers. Unless total student numbers are increased, then places are going to be taken away from public universities and given to private universities. I am in favour of private universities, but not at the expense of public.
Nevertheless, it is good that private universities will have to be subject to the same information and accountability requirements if they are to access public funds.
Students will benefit from the better information that universities are being required to provide.
However, mid-ranking Russell Group and 94 Group universities will come off worse, as will most public universities and some students.
Vulnerable institutions will be those unable to hold on to their A-grade students because of increased competition. There will be an unseemly scrap among Russell and 94 Group universities for these students, with increasingly generous inducements to students. These inducements may be worth much more than what they gain in terms of funding, but it will partly be driven by positioning. There will be losers among what are inaccurately called the "top" universities, some of which are fairly mediocre, but which attract top students because of historic reputations.
But all public universities will lose as they have numbers steadily removed from their core and they are forced either to bid for them cheaply or lose them to private universities.
And students will be losers as they will have to repay fees three times greater than at present.
'It's terribly unfair on the widening participation agenda'
Claire Callender, professor of higher education, Birkbeck and Institute of Education
The winners potentially are FE colleges. But there's a big question over the extent to which they can produce higher-quality undergraduate degrees for students. In the National Student Survey, one enormous difference between students at FE colleges and those at HE institutions is that they are far less content with things such as library facilities. Historically, higher education hasn't been the main business of FE colleges, so they aren't necessarily as well equipped as HE institutions.
Social mobility will be hit though, and students who don't understand that statistics on graduate salaries and employability can be misleading.
We have to remember that the white paper is not offering more student places; it is just re-allocating the existing places to certain types of HE institutions, and in the process it will polarise the HE sector. So some applicants still will not get a place at university, even if they are qualified. And these are most likely to be "non-traditional" students.
The white paper re-iterates the importance of the fair access agenda. But the new policy of reserved places for students with AAB grades at A-level undermines the policies used by universities to meet this agenda. Some universities offer lower A-level entry grades to bright students with potential who come from areas or schools with low higher educ ation participation. How will such students fare under this new regime?
The AAB policy also presupposes that entrants to universities come in with A-levels. In fact, the biggest growth in applications and enrolments recently has been among those with no Ucas points. It's terribly unfair on the widening participation agenda because those with qualifications not recognised for whatever reason by Ucas, or seriously bright people returning to university with professional or other experience, for example, won't get in under the AAB criteria.
It's fantastic that students are being given more information, but it is well recognised that data on employment six months after graduation is very unreliable. It takes time for graduates to get into jobs that will become their long-term careers. For example, the average salaries for graduates after six months are nearly identical at two particular universities in London – one a post-92, the other a pre-92 university. Both have completely different academic reputations, but salaries are similar because the post-92 university has a huge number of part-time students and older students who already have jobs. How is a young person going to interpret the difference in salaries unless they understand what contributes to different levels of pay on graduation? Also, there is tremendous inequality in terms of access to information between students from private and more clued-up schools, and others.
'Those who are complacent will lose out'
Carl Lygo, chief executive, BPP Holdings and principal of BPP University College of Professional Studies
Those who believe in stronger consumer rights are the winners from this white paper. There is nothing in the paper that's new, but the consumer protection angle is stronger than I thought it would be, which is welcome.
I'm pretty sure the "flexible margin" of places at universities charging an average fee of £7,500 or less will go to existing providers. I'm not entirely sure that private providers will be sucking up those numbers, and I'm certainly not planning the future of BPP around competition for these 20,000 places. If Offa is taking account of discounts in the fees that average students are going to pay, there will be a lot of universities charging close to £7,500 and a lot that can compete.
Some universities are going to expand – I don't buy this idea that so-called good universities won't want to increase in size. That's not what I've heard.
But those who are complacent, inflexible and don't see the need to change won't fare well at all.
If there is a contest for 85,000 places each year, there are going to be winners and losers. Some are going to expand and some contract, and it will depend how well they can cope with contraction. If they have an inflexible cost base and if they are complacent, they will lose out.
My overall verdict is that four out of five for a masterful piece of political manoeuvring, because there is nothing we didn't know beforehand and all of the contentious issues have been sent out for further consultation.
"There's going to be more choice for students'
Michele Sutton, principal and chief executive, Bradford College
Students, further education colleges and private providers all stand to gain from the white paper.
The biggest winners are students, because there's going to be more choice, potentially better quality of provision and more student input.
There will be opportunities for us, too, and for private providers.
Losers: institutions charging more than £7,500, but making low grade offers.
I would give the paper four out of five, but the devil is in the detail.
'It makes admissions much more complex'
Matthew Andrews, academic registrar, Oxford Brookes University and chair of Admissions Practitioner Group
Some arts and humanities courses may benefit from the measures in the paper. It potentially allows universities to increase recruitment to arts and humanities subjects on a funded basis. Those areas haven't been funded through previous allocations of additional student numbers, which have focused on science and employer-funded courses. But we aren't talking large numbers.
But clarity will be one of the losers. It makes admissions much more complex, because it will need to be placed in the context of what the different student number controls are going to be. It also looks muddled. Universities are being told they can have as many AAB students as they want, but we know that more of those students are not going to be from poorer backgrounds, so the more we take, the worse we will do on widening participation.
I think an opportunity has been lost, however, to implement real reforms. It is more about continuing previous activities, which might be a response to the reaction over increased tuition fees. That was the big change.
'Those taking widening participation students are screwed'
Roger Brown, co-director for the Centre of Higher Education Research Development at Liverpool Hope University
The Russell Group have got everything they wanted, if you look at their submission to the Browne report. They are the very clear beneficiaries. Nine thousand pounds is about the highest amount anywhere outside America that anyone spends on HE, and they are not being held to the widening participation benchmarks given to them by Hefce [the Higher Education Funding Council for England]. They are going to be very well off, and may even benefit from the crackpot idea that certain institutions will have light-touch inspection based on past track record.
Those institutions that take the most students from non-traditional backgrounds in a bid to widen access will be the losers here.
The government wants to screw down the unit of resource for teaching and that will mean the majority of institutions taking widening participation students are going to find themselves screwed, too. The whole thing is an unconvincing mixture of ideology and pragmatism. These institutions are mostly in London or in conurbations of the north-west or north-east, and those are areas suffering anyway. Now they are going to find themselves very heavily squeezed.
education.letters@guardian.co.uk
A week after the white paper, its implications for students and for universities are sinking in
'Places will be taken away and given to private providers'
Bahram Bekhradnia, director, Higher Education Policy Institute
I had thought that the 20,000 places a year being auctioned would increase only if the government continued to find itself over-budget. But clearly they will increase steadily as a matter of policy. What is going on is that these are the numbers that will be made available to private providers. Unless total student numbers are increased, then places are going to be taken away from public universities and given to private universities. I am in favour of private universities, but not at the expense of public.
Nevertheless, it is good that private universities will have to be subject to the same information and accountability requirements if they are to access public funds.
Students will benefit from the better information that universities are being required to provide.
However, mid-ranking Russell Group and 94 Group universities will come off worse, as will most public universities and some students.
Vulnerable institutions will be those unable to hold on to their A-grade students because of increased competition. There will be an unseemly scrap among Russell and 94 Group universities for these students, with increasingly generous inducements to students. These inducements may be worth much more than what they gain in terms of funding, but it will partly be driven by positioning. There will be losers among what are inaccurately called the "top" universities, some of which are fairly mediocre, but which attract top students because of historic reputations.
But all public universities will lose as they have numbers steadily removed from their core and they are forced either to bid for them cheaply or lose them to private universities.
And students will be losers as they will have to repay fees three times greater than at present.
'It's terribly unfair on the widening participation agenda'
Claire Callender, professor of higher education, Birkbeck and Institute of Education
The winners potentially are FE colleges. But there's a big question over the extent to which they can produce higher-quality undergraduate degrees for students. In the National Student Survey, one enormous difference between students at FE colleges and those at HE institutions is that they are far less content with things such as library facilities. Historically, higher education hasn't been the main business of FE colleges, so they aren't necessarily as well equipped as HE institutions.
Social mobility will be hit though, and students who don't understand that statistics on graduate salaries and employability can be misleading.
We have to remember that the white paper is not offering more student places; it is just re-allocating the existing places to certain types of HE institutions, and in the process it will polarise the HE sector. So some applicants still will not get a place at university, even if they are qualified. And these are most likely to be "non-traditional" students.
The white paper re-iterates the importance of the fair access agenda. But the new policy of reserved places for students with AAB grades at A-level undermines the policies used by universities to meet this agenda. Some universities offer lower A-level entry grades to bright students with potential who come from areas or schools with low higher educ ation participation. How will such students fare under this new regime?
The AAB policy also presupposes that entrants to universities come in with A-levels. In fact, the biggest growth in applications and enrolments recently has been among those with no Ucas points. It's terribly unfair on the widening participation agenda because those with qualifications not recognised for whatever reason by Ucas, or seriously bright people returning to university with professional or other experience, for example, won't get in under the AAB criteria.
It's fantastic that students are being given more information, but it is well recognised that data on employment six months after graduation is very unreliable. It takes time for graduates to get into jobs that will become their long-term careers. For example, the average salaries for graduates after six months are nearly identical at two particular universities in London – one a post-92, the other a pre-92 university. Both have completely different academic reputations, but salaries are similar because the post-92 university has a huge number of part-time students and older students who already have jobs. How is a young person going to interpret the difference in salaries unless they understand what contributes to different levels of pay on graduation? Also, there is tremendous inequality in terms of access to information between students from private and more clued-up schools, and others.
'Those who are complacent will lose out'
Carl Lygo, chief executive, BPP Holdings and principal of BPP University College of Professional Studies
Those who believe in stronger consumer rights are the winners from this white paper. There is nothing in the paper that's new, but the consumer protection angle is stronger than I thought it would be, which is welcome.
I'm pretty sure the "flexible margin" of places at universities charging an average fee of £7,500 or less will go to existing providers. I'm not entirely sure that private providers will be sucking up those numbers, and I'm certainly not planning the future of BPP around competition for these 20,000 places. If Offa is taking account of discounts in the fees that average students are going to pay, there will be a lot of universities charging close to £7,500 and a lot that can compete.
Some universities are going to expand – I don't buy this idea that so-called good universities won't want to increase in size. That's not what I've heard.
But those who are complacent, inflexible and don't see the need to change won't fare well at all.
If there is a contest for 85,000 places each year, there are going to be winners and losers. Some are going to expand and some contract, and it will depend how well they can cope with contraction. If they have an inflexible cost base and if they are complacent, they will lose out.
My overall verdict is that four out of five for a masterful piece of political manoeuvring, because there is nothing we didn't know beforehand and all of the contentious issues have been sent out for further consultation.
"There's going to be more choice for students'
Michele Sutton, principal and chief executive, Bradford College
Students, further education colleges and private providers all stand to gain from the white paper.
The biggest winners are students, because there's going to be more choice, potentially better quality of provision and more student input.
There will be opportunities for us, too, and for private providers.
Losers: institutions charging more than £7,500, but making low grade offers.
I would give the paper four out of five, but the devil is in the detail.
'It makes admissions much more complex'
Matthew Andrews, academic registrar, Oxford Brookes University and chair of Admissions Practitioner Group
Some arts and humanities courses may benefit from the measures in the paper. It potentially allows universities to increase recruitment to arts and humanities subjects on a funded basis. Those areas haven't been funded through previous allocations of additional student numbers, which have focused on science and employer-funded courses. But we aren't talking large numbers.
But clarity will be one of the losers. It makes admissions much more complex, because it will need to be placed in the context of what the different student number controls are going to be. It also looks muddled. Universities are being told they can have as many AAB students as they want, but we know that more of those students are not going to be from poorer backgrounds, so the more we take, the worse we will do on widening participation.
I think an opportunity has been lost, however, to implement real reforms. It is more about continuing previous activities, which might be a response to the reaction over increased tuition fees. That was the big change.
'Those taking widening participation students are screwed'
Roger Brown, co-director for the Centre of Higher Education Research Development at Liverpool Hope University
The Russell Group have got everything they wanted, if you look at their submission to the Browne report. They are the very clear beneficiaries. Nine thousand pounds is about the highest amount anywhere outside America that anyone spends on HE, and they are not being held to the widening participation benchmarks given to them by Hefce [the Higher Education Funding Council for England]. They are going to be very well off, and may even benefit from the crackpot idea that certain institutions will have light-touch inspection based on past track record.
Those institutions that take the most students from non-traditional backgrounds in a bid to widen access will be the losers here.
The government wants to screw down the unit of resource for teaching and that will mean the majority of institutions taking widening participation students are going to find themselves screwed, too. The whole thing is an unconvincing mixture of ideology and pragmatism. These institutions are mostly in London or in conurbations of the north-west or north-east, and those are areas suffering anyway. Now they are going to find themselves very heavily squeezed.
education.letters@guardian.co.uk
A vocational version of the International Baccalaureate is being trialled, but there are fears for its prospects
The International Baccalaureate has traditionally been seen as an elite qualification taken by brainy students at independent or selective sixth forms. But a new "vocational bacc" could be about to change that.
The IB Career-Related Certificate (IBCC) currently being trialled in a number of UK schools combines the academic rigour of the IB with vocational study.
Over a two-year period, IB students take six subjects (including a language), a philosophy-based course and 60 hours of community service. Students doing the new "pick and mix" IBCC qualification take a minimum of two IB subjects, a vocational qualification (such as a BTec or Applied A-level – a more practical, work-based qualification) and a number of "core" programmes that include community service and critical thinking skills. IBCC students also have to study a language, although this could be basic conversation skills or GCSE standard.
The idea behind the new qualification is to increase access to the IB, which is generally seen as more demanding than A-levels. "There are many students who are academically able, but for a variety of reasons – for example, confidence or organisational skills – are not able to manage six full IB courses," says Theresa Forbes, IB head of regional development for Africa, Europe and the Middle East. "It's still a very challenging course, but this makes it far more accessible."
She also points out that the IBCC is a good fit with the recent Wolf review of vocational education, which placed a strong emphasis on the value of maintaining academic rigour in post-16 study.
It is a bold step for the International Baccalaureate Organisation, the not-for-profit education foundation behind both the IB and the new IBCC, which has never included non-IB qualifications such as BTecs or Applied A-levels in any of its programmes.
The Anglo-European school in Ingatestone, Essex was the first state school to offer the IB back in 1977 and the first to offer the IBCC. "We felt it was a great opportunity to open up the programme to a wider range of students," says the headteacher, David Barrs. "The idea of this traditional, august body offering this kind of qualification is quite exciting." The school has 10 students about to complete their first year of the programme and hopes to double this number for the second cohort, due to start in September.
Before schools can offer the IB, they have to be authorised as an "IB world school". This means being vetted by the IBO, a process that can take up to three years. After that, they are inspected on a regular basis.
But three of the Kent schools piloting the new qualification – King Ethelbert school in Broadstairs, Hartsdown Technology school in Margate and Northfleet school for girls near Gravesend – are high schools in an area where the highest-achieving students are "creamed off" to go to grammar schools at 11, meaning they are unlikely ever to offer the IB. So by offering this to those that are not IB world schools, the IBO is really breaking new ground.
But it has been a contentious issue for some, says Paul Luxmoore, headteacher of Dane Court Grammar school in Broadstairs, which is also involved in the pilot. "There have been fears – which have largely been overcome – that the new qualification could dilute the IB brand," he says.
The requirement to study a language – which underpins the IB's mission to develop socially skilled young people who see themselves as global citizens – is another thorny issue. Expecting IBCC students to take an IB-level course in a language could, potentially, alienate students, says Luxmoore. "Some students arrive in the sixth form having been at a school where there isn't a requirement to take a language at GCSE at all, so if you made an IB language a requirement, I think the IBCC would quickly be dead in the water."
Michael Going has just finished his first year of the IBCC at the Anglo-European school. He is combining IB courses in history and Spanish with an A-level in sociology and an Applied A-level in travel and tourism. While the IB suits high flyers, until now there has not been an attractive alternative for students who are "good, but not brilliantly academically," he says.
Before starting the IBCC course, Going didn't really see himself as academic, but the "core" components of the course – approaches to learning, community service and a reflective project – have helped to develop his critical thinking skills. He is now hoping to apply for a degree course in economics and global development.
But is there a danger that this qualification could be seen as a second-rate IB? Absolutely not, says Forbes. "It's still a very challenging course, but we see it as an alternative pathway, which retains the breadth and rigour of the IB and prepares students – in the broader sense – for university."
Forbes says that universities have been largely positive about the new qualification. Because most of the different components of the IBCC (for example IB diplomas or BTecs) already have a Ucas tariff attached to them, students should have no problem securing a place at university. But as Amanda Lee, head of 14-19 education at Hartsdown Technology College, points out, because the students are generally taking a combination of subjects that attract fewer Ucas points, "they are less likely to be accepted by Russell Group universities".
But cuts to sixth-form funding could threaten the new IBCC before it even gets going, warns Luxmoore. Funding for the IB has been capped at the equivalent of four and a half A-levels per student, but schools say the IB is equivalent to more than six A-levels in terms of staffing and resources. To make matters worse, the government has also slashed entitlement funding (which covers the cost of pastoral care, tutorials and extracurricular activities for 16- to 19-year-olds) from 114 to 30 hours per student. Sixth forms offering the IB have typically relied on this cash to fund the community service strand of the qualification.
In the UK, 139 state schools offer the IB, but with many wondering how they will make up the funding shortfall, heads are concerned that it could once again become the preserve of independent schools. If that happens, the future for the IBCC could be gloomy, too, says Luxmoore. "The majority of schools offering it are those already offering the IB, so with that under threat, there's a real danger it will never get off the ground."
A vocational version of the International Baccalaureate is being trialled, but there are fears for its prospects
The International Baccalaureate has traditionally been seen as an elite qualification taken by brainy students at independent or selective sixth forms. But a new "vocational bacc" could be about to change that.
The IB Career-Related Certificate (IBCC) currently being trialled in a number of UK schools combines the academic rigour of the IB with vocational study.
Over a two-year period, IB students take six subjects (including a language), a philosophy-based course and 60 hours of community service. Students doing the new "pick and mix" IBCC qualification take a minimum of two IB subjects, a vocational qualification (such as a BTec or Applied A-level – a more practical, work-based qualification) and a number of "core" programmes that include community service and critical thinking skills. IBCC students also have to study a language, although this could be basic conversation skills or GCSE standard.
The idea behind the new qualification is to increase access to the IB, which is generally seen as more demanding than A-levels. "There are many students who are academically able, but for a variety of reasons – for example, confidence or organisational skills – are not able to manage six full IB courses," says Theresa Forbes, IB head of regional development for Africa, Europe and the Middle East. "It's still a very challenging course, but this makes it far more accessible."
She also points out that the IBCC is a good fit with the recent Wolf review of vocational education, which placed a strong emphasis on the value of maintaining academic rigour in post-16 study.
It is a bold step for the International Baccalaureate Organisation, the not-for-profit education foundation behind both the IB and the new IBCC, which has never included non-IB qualifications such as BTecs or Applied A-levels in any of its programmes.
The Anglo-European school in Ingatestone, Essex was the first state school to offer the IB back in 1977 and the first to offer the IBCC. "We felt it was a great opportunity to open up the programme to a wider range of students," says the headteacher, David Barrs. "The idea of this traditional, august body offering this kind of qualification is quite exciting." The school has 10 students about to complete their first year of the programme and hopes to double this number for the second cohort, due to start in September.
Before schools can offer the IB, they have to be authorised as an "IB world school". This means being vetted by the IBO, a process that can take up to three years. After that, they are inspected on a regular basis.
But three of the Kent schools piloting the new qualification – King Ethelbert school in Broadstairs, Hartsdown Technology school in Margate and Northfleet school for girls near Gravesend – are high schools in an area where the highest-achieving students are "creamed off" to go to grammar schools at 11, meaning they are unlikely ever to offer the IB. So by offering this to those that are not IB world schools, the IBO is really breaking new ground.
But it has been a contentious issue for some, says Paul Luxmoore, headteacher of Dane Court Grammar school in Broadstairs, which is also involved in the pilot. "There have been fears – which have largely been overcome – that the new qualification could dilute the IB brand," he says.
The requirement to study a language – which underpins the IB's mission to develop socially skilled young people who see themselves as global citizens – is another thorny issue. Expecting IBCC students to take an IB-level course in a language could, potentially, alienate students, says Luxmoore. "Some students arrive in the sixth form having been at a school where there isn't a requirement to take a language at GCSE at all, so if you made an IB language a requirement, I think the IBCC would quickly be dead in the water."
Michael Going has just finished his first year of the IBCC at the Anglo-European school. He is combining IB courses in history and Spanish with an A-level in sociology and an Applied A-level in travel and tourism. While the IB suits high flyers, until now there has not been an attractive alternative for students who are "good, but not brilliantly academically," he says.
Before starting the IBCC course, Going didn't really see himself as academic, but the "core" components of the course – approaches to learning, community service and a reflective project – have helped to develop his critical thinking skills. He is now hoping to apply for a degree course in economics and global development.
But is there a danger that this qualification could be seen as a second-rate IB? Absolutely not, says Forbes. "It's still a very challenging course, but we see it as an alternative pathway, which retains the breadth and rigour of the IB and prepares students – in the broader sense – for university."
Forbes says that universities have been largely positive about the new qualification. Because most of the different components of the IBCC (for example IB diplomas or BTecs) already have a Ucas tariff attached to them, students should have no problem securing a place at university. But as Amanda Lee, head of 14-19 education at Hartsdown Technology College, points out, because the students are generally taking a combination of subjects that attract fewer Ucas points, "they are less likely to be accepted by Russell Group universities".
But cuts to sixth-form funding could threaten the new IBCC before it even gets going, warns Luxmoore. Funding for the IB has been capped at the equivalent of four and a half A-levels per student, but schools say the IB is equivalent to more than six A-levels in terms of staffing and resources. To make matters worse, the government has also slashed entitlement funding (which covers the cost of pastoral care, tutorials and extracurricular activities for 16- to 19-year-olds) from 114 to 30 hours per student. Sixth forms offering the IB have typically relied on this cash to fund the community service strand of the qualification.
In the UK, 139 state schools offer the IB, but with many wondering how they will make up the funding shortfall, heads are concerned that it could once again become the preserve of independent schools. If that happens, the future for the IBCC could be gloomy, too, says Luxmoore. "The majority of schools offering it are those already offering the IB, so with that under threat, there's a real danger it will never get off the ground."
Literacy experts have written to the education secretary, pleading with him to do a U-turn on his plan for phonics testing for six-year-olds
This time next year, every year 1 pupil in England is likely to encounter a new national test assessing a central aspect of their ability to read.
The children, aged five and six, will be presented with 40 individual words on paper, and asked to sound them out to their teachers or to another adult. Some words will be familiar to most, while others will be made-up or "non" words such as "mip" or "glimp", designed only to assess the child's ability to follow the pronunciation rules, such as they exist, of written English.
The results of this test, or "screening check", will then be collected, given to the child's parents and also used to produce statistics on national and local performance and to inform Ofsted inspection judgments on schools.
Yet the test, which a survey in May found most parents have no idea is going to happen, is proving hugely controversial, with only 28% of the 1,071 respondents to a government consultation exercise backing its introduction, and several influential organisations fulminating against its potential impact and cost.
One leading literacy figure has described the new test as potentially "disastrous", while another told this newspaper it was an "abomination" and likely to be a major waste of taxpayers' money. A petition with more than 1,000 signatures against it has been collected.
Now Education Guardian has learned that the United Kingdom Literacy Association (UKLA), backed by 13 other organisations with interests in primary and reading education, has written to Michael Gove, education secretary, in a last-ditch effort to get him to abandon the test.
The dispute centres on the teaching of phonics, and wider reading, in primary schools. Phonics, the teaching method favoured by ministers, required to be taught in schools and accepted as a central part of reading by many organisations including the UKLA, involves children sounding out words from their constituent letters.
In the classic example, children sound out the letters c-a-t to make the word "cat". Ministers say this new phonics test, taken at the end of year 1, will identify pupils needing reading support while encouraging "rigorous" phonics teaching.
In it, pupils will be faced with many words they are likely to know, including some such as "cow" or "blow" where the correct pronunciation depends partly on simply knowing how the word sounds. The made-up words will be designed to follow simpler rules of pronunciation, with children given credit for sounding them out in any way that makes sense, given the phonetic rules followed by other words in English.
Launching the consultation on the test in November, Gove said: "Parents want to know how their children are reading and this will tell them."
No it will not, say the UKLA and other critics. This is, they say, because phonic recognition, though important, is only a part of learning to read English.
The new test, in emphasising only one aspect of what research shows is a complex process of reading for understanding, will both lead to some children being wrongly identified as poor or good readers and potentially narrow the curriculum by encouraging schools to teach to the assessment at the expense of teaching reading for understanding or enjoyment, the critics claim.
In an article in the latest edition of the journal Education Review, Henrietta Dombey, a former president of the United Kingdom Reading (now Literacy) Association, points out that unlike some languages, such as Italian, Finnish or Spanish, children learning to read in English have to go much further than simply being able to sound out words phonetically.
For example, in English, letters such as 'a' can have five or more different sounds – as in "matt", "mall", "make", "mast" and "many" – while a single sound can be spelt many ways. Phonics gives children some of the tools they need to read well, but they need other knowledge to be able to read all words. Dombey accuses the government of "extreme arrogance" in, she says, neglecting decades of research into how children learn to read.
She warns that the test will become "high-stakes" for teachers, some of whom will narrow the curriculum towards test preparation. Children with reading problems and those without books at home stand to be particularly hard hit by this potentially "disastrous" approach, she writes, in that reading for understanding and pleasure will be downgraded.
The government is not planning to introduce school league tables of the results, with 88% of consultees saying this would be a bad idea.
And, Claire Axten, head of Brookside primary school in Street, Somerset, whose school took part in a pilot of the new test taken by around 10,000 pupils last month, says it passed off smoothly, lasting only about two minutes for each child. Children were not put off by the made-up words and there was no teaching to the test, she adds.
However, Axten, head of Brookside primary school in Street, Somerset, says she would feel differently about the tests if her school were being "judged" on the results.
This, though, is a live issue for the test's critics: although data collected in the pilot is not being passed to Ofsted inspectors, it will be used in this way when the test comes in nationally. A government document on the pilot admits that "an accurate evaluation of the potential impacts of the phonics screening check will not be possible" during the trial, for this reason. Some 68% of consultees were against the use of the results in data systems passed to Ofsted.
For Greg Brooks, emeritus professor of education at the University of Sheffield, and an advocate of phonics whose research is cited by the government, the test is an "abomination", partly because it would occur too late in year 1 for teachers to identify pupils who need help as problems develop. Much better, he said, would be to get teachers to identify the minority of pupils needing help by the middle of year 1, and direct resources to these children.
He says: "This is a huge sledgehammer approach: what's the point of testing 600,000 six-year-olds in order to identify the 100,000 pupils or fewer who need help, when these pupils should be obvious to their classroom teachers much earlier anyway?"
Brooks says the technical work needed to develop and standardise the test makes it potentially expensive, the UKLA describing it as "enormously costly [and] exceptionally hard to justify in a period of financial restrictions".
The government has disclosed the cost of the pilot - £250,000 – but not the likely full cost of the test.
Other organisations that are criticising it include the National Association of Head Teachers, the Cambridge Primary Review and the National Association for Special Educational Needs, which said: "Is this just another stick to beat schools with?"
The government points to a survey conducted in January for the National Confederation of Parent Teacher Associations, which found three quarters of parents supported a test in year 1. However, they were asked if they supported a "reading" test, not specifically about a phonics test.
Phonics as a subject is highly contentious, and the test does have some strong advocates. Chris Jolly, a publisher who produces the most widely used phonics resources in primary schools, says: "I think it's a good thing, because it puts more emphasis on pupils' ability to read, early in their schooling."
The evidence shows that the systematic teaching of phonics at the start of pupils' schooling provides the best foundation for their reading, he says, and he feels it's right that this should be checked through a test.
A Department for Education spokesman said primary school test results – 15% of pupils did not reach the expected reading standard at age seven in 2010, and 16% at age 11 did not do so – meant it was right to introduce the check.
Possible costs would not be known and released until the pilot had been evaluated in the autumn.
"It is vital that we can gauge standards at as early an age as is appropriate and a light-touch screening check in year 1 will allow us to do this," he added and said children involved with trials of the tests had not been put off by the "non-words".
Asked to point to supporters of the check, the government highlighted another headteacher, Shahed Ahmed, involved in trials of the tests, who said they would encourage good phonics teaching, and Ruth Miskin, the literacy expert who this year has been sitting on its national curriculum and assessment reviews. She said: "This reading check will help all headteachers focus their efforts upon the children who are most likely to slip through the net."
If the test is introduced, however, it will be in the face of opposition among many reading specialists and teachers.
Literacy experts have written to the education secretary, pleading with him to do a U-turn on his plan for phonics testing for six-year-olds
This time next year, every year 1 pupil in England is likely to encounter a new national test assessing a central aspect of their ability to read.
The children, aged five and six, will be presented with 40 individual words on paper, and asked to sound them out to their teachers or to another adult. Some words will be familiar to most, while others will be made-up or "non" words such as "mip" or "glimp", designed only to assess the child's ability to follow the pronunciation rules, such as they exist, of written English.
The results of this test, or "screening check", will then be collected, given to the child's parents and also used to produce statistics on national and local performance and to inform Ofsted inspection judgments on schools.
Yet the test, which a survey in May found most parents have no idea is going to happen, is proving hugely controversial, with only 28% of the 1,071 respondents to a government consultation exercise backing its introduction, and several influential organisations fulminating against its potential impact and cost.
One leading literacy figure has described the new test as potentially "disastrous", while another told this newspaper it was an "abomination" and likely to be a major waste of taxpayers' money. A petition with more than 1,000 signatures against it has been collected.
Now Education Guardian has learned that the United Kingdom Literacy Association (UKLA), backed by 13 other organisations with interests in primary and reading education, has written to Michael Gove, education secretary, in a last-ditch effort to get him to abandon the test.
The dispute centres on the teaching of phonics, and wider reading, in primary schools. Phonics, the teaching method favoured by ministers, required to be taught in schools and accepted as a central part of reading by many organisations including the UKLA, involves children sounding out words from their constituent letters.
In the classic example, children sound out the letters c-a-t to make the word "cat". Ministers say this new phonics test, taken at the end of year 1, will identify pupils needing reading support while encouraging "rigorous" phonics teaching.
In it, pupils will be faced with many words they are likely to know, including some such as "cow" or "blow" where the correct pronunciation depends partly on simply knowing how the word sounds. The made-up words will be designed to follow simpler rules of pronunciation, with children given credit for sounding them out in any way that makes sense, given the phonetic rules followed by other words in English.
Launching the consultation on the test in November, Gove said: "Parents want to know how their children are reading and this will tell them."
No it will not, say the UKLA and other critics. This is, they say, because phonic recognition, though important, is only a part of learning to read English.
The new test, in emphasising only one aspect of what research shows is a complex process of reading for understanding, will both lead to some children being wrongly identified as poor or good readers and potentially narrow the curriculum by encouraging schools to teach to the assessment at the expense of teaching reading for understanding or enjoyment, the critics claim.
In an article in the latest edition of the journal Education Review, Henrietta Dombey, a former president of the United Kingdom Reading (now Literacy) Association, points out that unlike some languages, such as Italian, Finnish or Spanish, children learning to read in English have to go much further than simply being able to sound out words phonetically.
For example, in English, letters such as 'a' can have five or more different sounds – as in "matt", "mall", "make", "mast" and "many" – while a single sound can be spelt many ways. Phonics gives children some of the tools they need to read well, but they need other knowledge to be able to read all words. Dombey accuses the government of "extreme arrogance" in, she says, neglecting decades of research into how children learn to read.
She warns that the test will become "high-stakes" for teachers, some of whom will narrow the curriculum towards test preparation. Children with reading problems and those without books at home stand to be particularly hard hit by this potentially "disastrous" approach, she writes, in that reading for understanding and pleasure will be downgraded.
The government is not planning to introduce school league tables of the results, with 88% of consultees saying this would be a bad idea.
And, Claire Axten, head of Brookside primary school in Street, Somerset, whose school took part in a pilot of the new test taken by around 10,000 pupils last month, says it passed off smoothly, lasting only about two minutes for each child. Children were not put off by the made-up words and there was no teaching to the test, she adds.
However, Axten, head of Brookside primary school in Street, Somerset, says she would feel differently about the tests if her school were being "judged" on the results.
This, though, is a live issue for the test's critics: although data collected in the pilot is not being passed to Ofsted inspectors, it will be used in this way when the test comes in nationally. A government document on the pilot admits that "an accurate evaluation of the potential impacts of the phonics screening check will not be possible" during the trial, for this reason. Some 68% of consultees were against the use of the results in data systems passed to Ofsted.
For Greg Brooks, emeritus professor of education at the University of Sheffield, and an advocate of phonics whose research is cited by the government, the test is an "abomination", partly because it would occur too late in year 1 for teachers to identify pupils who need help as problems develop. Much better, he said, would be to get teachers to identify the minority of pupils needing help by the middle of year 1, and direct resources to these children.
He says: "This is a huge sledgehammer approach: what's the point of testing 600,000 six-year-olds in order to identify the 100,000 pupils or fewer who need help, when these pupils should be obvious to their classroom teachers much earlier anyway?"
Brooks says the technical work needed to develop and standardise the test makes it potentially expensive, the UKLA describing it as "enormously costly [and] exceptionally hard to justify in a period of financial restrictions".
The government has disclosed the cost of the pilot - £250,000 – but not the likely full cost of the test.
Other organisations that are criticising it include the National Association of Head Teachers, the Cambridge Primary Review and the National Association for Special Educational Needs, which said: "Is this just another stick to beat schools with?"
The government points to a survey conducted in January for the National Confederation of Parent Teacher Associations, which found three quarters of parents supported a test in year 1. However, they were asked if they supported a "reading" test, not specifically about a phonics test.
Phonics as a subject is highly contentious, and the test does have some strong advocates. Chris Jolly, a publisher who produces the most widely used phonics resources in primary schools, says: "I think it's a good thing, because it puts more emphasis on pupils' ability to read, early in their schooling."
The evidence shows that the systematic teaching of phonics at the start of pupils' schooling provides the best foundation for their reading, he says, and he feels it's right that this should be checked through a test.
A Department for Education spokesman said primary school test results – 15% of pupils did not reach the expected reading standard at age seven in 2010, and 16% at age 11 did not do so – meant it was right to introduce the check.
Possible costs would not be known and released until the pilot had been evaluated in the autumn.
"It is vital that we can gauge standards at as early an age as is appropriate and a light-touch screening check in year 1 will allow us to do this," he added and said children involved with trials of the tests had not been put off by the "non-words".
Asked to point to supporters of the check, the government highlighted another headteacher, Shahed Ahmed, involved in trials of the tests, who said they would encourage good phonics teaching, and Ruth Miskin, the literacy expert who this year has been sitting on its national curriculum and assessment reviews. She said: "This reading check will help all headteachers focus their efforts upon the children who are most likely to slip through the net."
If the test is introduced, however, it will be in the face of opposition among many reading specialists and teachers.
There is little difference between an academies group and a local authority, says Fiona Millar, apart from a lack of accountability
The recent flurry of government announcements about academies and free schools was accompanied by the trumpeting of now familiar themes – autonomy, liberation, devolution of funds to the front line and the banishment of bureaucracy.
A few weeks before Michael Gove issued his latest call to arms, Sir Bruce Liddington, schools commissioner in the last Labour government, now director general of the academy chain E-ACT and one of the movers and shakers in the academy world, made a speech in which he set out his vision for a "world-class education system".
The words freedom and empowerment didn't appear much. Instead, the emphasis was on government grants to charitable trusts running chains of schools, operating in networks, with centralised back-office services, and the possibility of making a profit in the longer term. In one particularly revealing passage, Liddington unveiled his organisation's five-year business plan. From a low base – 11 academies in 2010 – the group has big ambitions. By 2015, it hopes to have 40 academies, 21 free schools and 65 "converter" academies. Elsewhere, he has been reported as speculating that E-ACT might one day run more than 250 schools.
The vision of an education system in which thousands of autonomous institutions bloom, nourished by total control of their budgets has, superficially at least, been the holy grail for politicians on the right for almost 20 years.
But scratch the surface and an alternative vision of the future emerges, one in which a patchwork of government-funded chains, each with a distinct brand, run thousands of schools, top-slicing revenue in the same way that local authorities have been doing for years, and so protected from the public gaze that the outgoing Ofsted chief, Christine Gilbert, recently urged ministers to bring them within the inspection framework.
As you walk into the atrium of the King Solomon academy, a new 3-18 school in north London run by the education charity Ark Schools, the most notable feature is a large overhead banner that proclaims: "Climbing the Mountain to University".
The Ark chain has high expectations of the schools it has been slowly acquiring since Labour's academy programme was unveiled over a decade ago. Its secondaries are expected to achieve 80% five A*-C grades including English and maths in five years. Last year, there was a 12% rise in the number of pupils achieving this benchmark.
Lucy Heller, Ark managing director, and Venessa Willms, headteacher of the King Solomon primary phase, are clear. Academy status has brought valuable freedoms, notably the ability to lengthen the school day in areas of high deprivation. But the Ark brand is less about individual school autonomy than a strong corporate vision, close relationships between head office and schools, and very tight quality control managed from the centre.
Its "six pillars" – high expectations, good behaviour, depth before breadth, small schools, excellent teaching, and longer school days – are rolled out meticulously from the heart of the Ark operation. Every school receives a termly or bi-termly monitoring visit from either of its two directors of education, one of whom is Sir Michael Wilshaw, also headteacher of the Mossbourne academy in Hackney, east London. The directors then feed back direct to the governing body (the majority of whom are appointed by the trust), often without the headteacher present.
The Ark Trust claws back 4.5 % of the schools budget for central services such as HR, procurement, finance, school improvement and research into pedagogy. Heller describes the Ark approach as one of "stewardship" rather than control. "Every school has its own very distinctive character, but all share an Ark vision and ethos. We see our schools as a shared social good for which we currently have responsibility. I am happy that academy chains recognise their accountability for results. There needs to be something, apart from Ofsted, standing between schools and outright failure."
A similar approach is being followed by other large academy groups, although the Reverend Steve Chalke, of Oasis Community Learning, which also retains 4.5% of its schools' funding to provide central services, dislikes the term "chain".
"It isn't a word we would use," he explains. "We prefer to see ourselves as a family of academies. Our aim is to give opportunities to young people who don't currently have them and we believe we do that better if we belong to a family. We started with one school, but realised that we could bring more value by adding more schools. If you build a cluster, you share expertise, costs, procurement and can move teachers around. Each school is better than it would have been by itself."
So what is the difference between an academy chain and a local authority? Heller suggests that many local authorities are too big to permit the relationships and monitoring on which Ark insists, and may lack high enough expectations, although listening to her describe the Ark model I found myself wondering whether many councils would be brave enough to exercise such extensive influence at a time when they are being publicly demonised for bureaucratic control.
The amount councils retain from school budgets varies hugely. Some take as little as 3%, others up to 10%, and some have found new ways to bring about dramatic school improvement. The Learning Trust, a social enterprise that has run education on behalf of Hackney Council for 10 years, has seen GCSE results shoot up in a once-demonised London authority where schools have now regained the confidence of many local parents.
Alan Wood, director of children's services in Hackney, says: "A partnership of local authority, parents and schools can work together to embrace a diversity of autonomous schools, including academies, and still raise standards for children and young people in our communities."
Moreover, the moral purpose articulated by chains such as Ark and Oasis may risk being compromised if other more hard-headed and entrepreneurial groups enter the field. The accounts of the bigger chains, published on the Charity Commission website, reveal how much funding is at stake, and how little transparency exists about the flow of money between the governing trust and the schools, many of whose budgets are not publicly available.
Both Ark and Oasis saw their central budgets increase from around £3m in 2006 to £117m and £70m respectively in 2010, as they acquired more schools. The income of E-ACT increased from £15.5m to almost £60m between 2009 and 2010. And the United Learning Trust, which the Labour government had decreed was not fit to take on more academies, saw its income rise from £60m to £138m between 2006 and 2010.
Even if 95% of the central grant is passported to schools – no more than an efficient local authority might devolve – that leaves a handsome sum in the hands of the trust, with scant detail about how the central funds are spent. Eyebrows were raised when it emerged that Liddington's own salary had risen from £154,000 in 2009 to £280,000 last year (thought to be over £300,000 when pensions and bonuses are included). The E-ACT director general now earns more for running 11 schools than many council chief executives receive for overseeing multibillion-pound budgets, and almost double that of his paymaster, the education secretary, Michael Gove. The accounts of E-ACT, which retains 5% of its schools' budgets, also reveal that it pays trustees for consultancy work and is now setting up a for-profit arm, E-ACT Enterprises, to sell services back to schools, althought profit will be ploughed back into the charitable arm. Even without the potential to make a profit, the financial returns to those involved in school chains can be considerable.
For some, the discreet Department for Education brokering of deals between academies, free schools and chains is the clearest sign yet of a long-term goal to allow profit-making schools. Martin Johnson, deputy general secretary of the Association of Teachers and Lecturers, says: "We've argued for some time that many academies would struggle to go it alone and would turn to a new friend. We also predict a tendency for these friends to be swallowed up by large organisations, and ultimately by the private sector. A relaxation of the prohibition on profit is sure to follow."
According to a DfE spokesman, there is "no limit" to the number of schools that can be taken on by a chain if it is perceived to be doing a good job. "The secretary of state would also say it is up to the chain how they manage their funds and how much they retain for central use," he adds.
But Heller is more guarded about how the policy should develop over the longer term: "There need to be tough decisions about who the schools are given to," she says. "And Ark would always balance the desire to take on more schools against the risk of losing the personal relationships that are crucial to our success."
Only time will tell how many academies will end up in the hands of the chains and whether that will have a transformational effect on school standards. In the meantime, it is worth asking whether it is really autonomy that schools need, or smarter forms of local accountability, and who will hold the new breed of chains to account for the large amount of public money that may flow through their hands in years to come.
There is little difference between an academies group and a local authority, says Fiona Millar, apart from a lack of accountability
The recent flurry of government announcements about academies and free schools was accompanied by the trumpeting of now familiar themes – autonomy, liberation, devolution of funds to the front line and the banishment of bureaucracy.
A few weeks before Michael Gove issued his latest call to arms, Sir Bruce Liddington, schools commissioner in the last Labour government, now director general of the academy chain E-ACT and one of the movers and shakers in the academy world, made a speech in which he set out his vision for a "world-class education system".
The words freedom and empowerment didn't appear much. Instead, the emphasis was on government grants to charitable trusts running chains of schools, operating in networks, with centralised back-office services, and the possibility of making a profit in the longer term. In one particularly revealing passage, Liddington unveiled his organisation's five-year business plan. From a low base – 11 academies in 2010 – the group has big ambitions. By 2015, it hopes to have 40 academies, 21 free schools and 65 "converter" academies. Elsewhere, he has been reported as speculating that E-ACT might one day run more than 250 schools.
The vision of an education system in which thousands of autonomous institutions bloom, nourished by total control of their budgets has, superficially at least, been the holy grail for politicians on the right for almost 20 years.
But scratch the surface and an alternative vision of the future emerges, one in which a patchwork of government-funded chains, each with a distinct brand, run thousands of schools, top-slicing revenue in the same way that local authorities have been doing for years, and so protected from the public gaze that the outgoing Ofsted chief, Christine Gilbert, recently urged ministers to bring them within the inspection framework.
As you walk into the atrium of the King Solomon academy, a new 3-18 school in north London run by the education charity Ark Schools, the most notable feature is a large overhead banner that proclaims: "Climbing the Mountain to University".
The Ark chain has high expectations of the schools it has been slowly acquiring since Labour's academy programme was unveiled over a decade ago. Its secondaries are expected to achieve 80% five A*-C grades including English and maths in five years. Last year, there was a 12% rise in the number of pupils achieving this benchmark.
Lucy Heller, Ark managing director, and Venessa Willms, headteacher of the King Solomon primary phase, are clear. Academy status has brought valuable freedoms, notably the ability to lengthen the school day in areas of high deprivation. But the Ark brand is less about individual school autonomy than a strong corporate vision, close relationships between head office and schools, and very tight quality control managed from the centre.
Its "six pillars" – high expectations, good behaviour, depth before breadth, small schools, excellent teaching, and longer school days – are rolled out meticulously from the heart of the Ark operation. Every school receives a termly or bi-termly monitoring visit from either of its two directors of education, one of whom is Sir Michael Wilshaw, also headteacher of the Mossbourne academy in Hackney, east London. The directors then feed back direct to the governing body (the majority of whom are appointed by the trust), often without the headteacher present.
The Ark Trust claws back 4.5 % of the schools budget for central services such as HR, procurement, finance, school improvement and research into pedagogy. Heller describes the Ark approach as one of "stewardship" rather than control. "Every school has its own very distinctive character, but all share an Ark vision and ethos. We see our schools as a shared social good for which we currently have responsibility. I am happy that academy chains recognise their accountability for results. There needs to be something, apart from Ofsted, standing between schools and outright failure."
A similar approach is being followed by other large academy groups, although the Reverend Steve Chalke, of Oasis Community Learning, which also retains 4.5% of its schools' funding to provide central services, dislikes the term "chain".
"It isn't a word we would use," he explains. "We prefer to see ourselves as a family of academies. Our aim is to give opportunities to young people who don't currently have them and we believe we do that better if we belong to a family. We started with one school, but realised that we could bring more value by adding more schools. If you build a cluster, you share expertise, costs, procurement and can move teachers around. Each school is better than it would have been by itself."
So what is the difference between an academy chain and a local authority? Heller suggests that many local authorities are too big to permit the relationships and monitoring on which Ark insists, and may lack high enough expectations, although listening to her describe the Ark model I found myself wondering whether many councils would be brave enough to exercise such extensive influence at a time when they are being publicly demonised for bureaucratic control.
The amount councils retain from school budgets varies hugely. Some take as little as 3%, others up to 10%, and some have found new ways to bring about dramatic school improvement. The Learning Trust, a social enterprise that has run education on behalf of Hackney Council for 10 years, has seen GCSE results shoot up in a once-demonised London authority where schools have now regained the confidence of many local parents.
Alan Wood, director of children's services in Hackney, says: "A partnership of local authority, parents and schools can work together to embrace a diversity of autonomous schools, including academies, and still raise standards for children and young people in our communities."
Moreover, the moral purpose articulated by chains such as Ark and Oasis may risk being compromised if other more hard-headed and entrepreneurial groups enter the field. The accounts of the bigger chains, published on the Charity Commission website, reveal how much funding is at stake, and how little transparency exists about the flow of money between the governing trust and the schools, many of whose budgets are not publicly available.
Both Ark and Oasis saw their central budgets increase from around £3m in 2006 to £117m and £70m respectively in 2010, as they acquired more schools. The income of E-ACT increased from £15.5m to almost £60m between 2009 and 2010. And the United Learning Trust, which the Labour government had decreed was not fit to take on more academies, saw its income rise from £60m to £138m between 2006 and 2010.
Even if 95% of the central grant is passported to schools – no more than an efficient local authority might devolve – that leaves a handsome sum in the hands of the trust, with scant detail about how the central funds are spent. Eyebrows were raised when it emerged that Liddington's own salary had risen from £154,000 in 2009 to £280,000 last year (thought to be over £300,000 when pensions and bonuses are included). The E-ACT director general now earns more for running 11 schools than many council chief executives receive for overseeing multibillion-pound budgets, and almost double that of his paymaster, the education secretary, Michael Gove. The accounts of E-ACT, which retains 5% of its schools' budgets, also reveal that it pays trustees for consultancy work and is now setting up a for-profit arm, E-ACT Enterprises, to sell services back to schools, althought profit will be ploughed back into the charitable arm. Even without the potential to make a profit, the financial returns to those involved in school chains can be considerable.
For some, the discreet Department for Education brokering of deals between academies, free schools and chains is the clearest sign yet of a long-term goal to allow profit-making schools. Martin Johnson, deputy general secretary of the Association of Teachers and Lecturers, says: "We've argued for some time that many academies would struggle to go it alone and would turn to a new friend. We also predict a tendency for these friends to be swallowed up by large organisations, and ultimately by the private sector. A relaxation of the prohibition on profit is sure to follow."
According to a DfE spokesman, there is "no limit" to the number of schools that can be taken on by a chain if it is perceived to be doing a good job. "The secretary of state would also say it is up to the chain how they manage their funds and how much they retain for central use," he adds.
But Heller is more guarded about how the policy should develop over the longer term: "There need to be tough decisions about who the schools are given to," she says. "And Ark would always balance the desire to take on more schools against the risk of losing the personal relationships that are crucial to our success."
Only time will tell how many academies will end up in the hands of the chains and whether that will have a transformational effect on school standards. In the meantime, it is worth asking whether it is really autonomy that schools need, or smarter forms of local accountability, and who will hold the new breed of chains to account for the large amount of public money that may flow through their hands in years to come.
The white paper promises a free market in higher education, deregulation and to put students first. It does none of these things, argues Peter Scott
When Lord Browne published his report on student fees and funding, he claimed it amounted to a "paradigm shift". Rioting students agreed. Fazed by the backlash to Browne, the government gutted his report's key recommendations. But now it has now come up with a "paradigm shift" of its own in the form of a long-delayed white paper.
"Bring back Browne, all is forgiven", one is tempted to cry. At least the Browne report offered a coherent package, however objectionable its treatment of higher education as a commodity. It could have worked. The white paper is just a mess. It won't.
It promises a free market in higher education. It delivers the opposite. Instead of one simple limit on overall student numbers, there will be three caps. One will cover "top" students, those with AAB grades at A-level. This cap will be determined by the vagaries of A-level marking and the willingness of "top" universities to expand (for which there is only limited evidence, because in the Russell Group only the big civics have been interested in growth, and for many universities in the 1994 Group, big has never been beautiful).
The second cap will cover "cheap" students – in other words, those who happen to apply to institutions that charge less than £7,000. But it will only cover some of them, because the government proposes to set a quota – 20,000 places initially. The third cap will apply to all the rest. It will have to be screwed down much more tightly.
The white paper promises deregulation. Again, it delivers the opposite. Reading through the document, it is difficult to discover any significant relaxation of bureaucratic controls – apart from a vague promise to revise the Higher Education Funding Council for England (Hefce) financial memorandum and the rather desperate exemption of universities from the "accommodation offset", something to do with the minimum wage apparently (full marks to the civil servant who discovered that one).
The truth is that, to implement the proposals in the white paper, the government will have to give itself (or Hefce) new legal powers over universities. The triple student number cap will have to be policed; access agreements will have to be submitted for approval, with more than a hint that the Office for Fair Access will need greater powers; universities will be obliged to provide detailed information on everything under the sun; far from disappearing, Hefce is to become the lead regulator. This is nationalisation with a vengeance.
The white paper promises that it puts students first. It does the opposite. What about the student with a conditional offer of AAB who gets AAC? In the past, an admissions tutor would have taken a simple decision based on academic grounds. Now, a juggernaut of calculating managers will be needed to grind the numbers to balance off-quota and on-quota students.
Or what about students who want to attend university X charging £8,500 rather than college Y charging £6,000? The Department for Business, Innovation and Skills will put obstacles in their way. As the canny majority of students immediately realised, the white paper's real aim is to drive down fees – and so reduce the funding universities have to meet their needs. Cutting the unit of resource is hardly in the best interests of students.
The white paper promises it promotes social mobility. Again, it does the opposite. The effect of the AAB proposal may well be "dynamic". But it will not increase the total number of places available. It will simply lead to a further polarisation of students with "top" universities crowded even more with "good" students – in other words, those who by and large are socially privileged enough to have attended "good" schools (many of them private).
The plan to allow institutions charging low fees to recruit more students, up to 20,000 extra, will not provide any more places; just worse-funded places. Finally, the suggestion that the government will allow early repayment of loans will overwhelmingly favour the rich and fortunate. Whatever became of Simon Hughes's mission to make higher education fairer?
Of course, the white paper is facilely clever. Who can object to better information for students or a come-back if their teaching is poor – any more than to motherhood and apple pie? So critics start on the back foot. But the real purpose of the white paper is to cut higher education's coat to the Treasury's tight cloth.
More white paper views, p6
The white paper promises a free market in higher education, deregulation and to put students first. It does none of these things, argues Peter Scott
When Lord Browne published his report on student fees and funding, he claimed it amounted to a "paradigm shift". Rioting students agreed. Fazed by the backlash to Browne, the government gutted his report's key recommendations. But now it has now come up with a "paradigm shift" of its own in the form of a long-delayed white paper.
"Bring back Browne, all is forgiven", one is tempted to cry. At least the Browne report offered a coherent package, however objectionable its treatment of higher education as a commodity. It could have worked. The white paper is just a mess. It won't.
It promises a free market in higher education. It delivers the opposite. Instead of one simple limit on overall student numbers, there will be three caps. One will cover "top" students, those with AAB grades at A-level. This cap will be determined by the vagaries of A-level marking and the willingness of "top" universities to expand (for which there is only limited evidence, because in the Russell Group only the big civics have been interested in growth, and for many universities in the 1994 Group, big has never been beautiful).
The second cap will cover "cheap" students – in other words, those who happen to apply to institutions that charge less than £7,000. But it will only cover some of them, because the government proposes to set a quota – 20,000 places initially. The third cap will apply to all the rest. It will have to be screwed down much more tightly.
The white paper promises deregulation. Again, it delivers the opposite. Reading through the document, it is difficult to discover any significant relaxation of bureaucratic controls – apart from a vague promise to revise the Higher Education Funding Council for England (Hefce) financial memorandum and the rather desperate exemption of universities from the "accommodation offset", something to do with the minimum wage apparently (full marks to the civil servant who discovered that one).
The truth is that, to implement the proposals in the white paper, the government will have to give itself (or Hefce) new legal powers over universities. The triple student number cap will have to be policed; access agreements will have to be submitted for approval, with more than a hint that the Office for Fair Access will need greater powers; universities will be obliged to provide detailed information on everything under the sun; far from disappearing, Hefce is to become the lead regulator. This is nationalisation with a vengeance.
The white paper promises that it puts students first. It does the opposite. What about the student with a conditional offer of AAB who gets AAC? In the past, an admissions tutor would have taken a simple decision based on academic grounds. Now, a juggernaut of calculating managers will be needed to grind the numbers to balance off-quota and on-quota students.
Or what about students who want to attend university X charging £8,500 rather than college Y charging £6,000? The Department for Business, Innovation and Skills will put obstacles in their way. As the canny majority of students immediately realised, the white paper's real aim is to drive down fees – and so reduce the funding universities have to meet their needs. Cutting the unit of resource is hardly in the best interests of students.
The white paper promises it promotes social mobility. Again, it does the opposite. The effect of the AAB proposal may well be "dynamic". But it will not increase the total number of places available. It will simply lead to a further polarisation of students with "top" universities crowded even more with "good" students – in other words, those who by and large are socially privileged enough to have attended "good" schools (many of them private).
The plan to allow institutions charging low fees to recruit more students, up to 20,000 extra, will not provide any more places; just worse-funded places. Finally, the suggestion that the government will allow early repayment of loans will overwhelmingly favour the rich and fortunate. Whatever became of Simon Hughes's mission to make higher education fairer?
Of course, the white paper is facilely clever. Who can object to better information for students or a come-back if their teaching is poor – any more than to motherhood and apple pie? So critics start on the back foot. But the real purpose of the white paper is to cut higher education's coat to the Treasury's tight cloth.
More white paper views, p6
Phil Beadle reflects on his columns over the past seven years, and how education has changed in that time
'As long as you've got a trumpet you may as well give it a blow." So says Mrs Beadle, hands on the wheel of the motor, as we attempt to weave through the sweating Saturday traffic. "It doesn't mean that it's going to make a nice noise, though."
I have presented her with the problem that this particular column represents, ie, how to say something column-like while also telling readers about my new book, and her advice is to be brazen. "Besides … people can wear earplugs. What I mean is, they don't have to read it. That's what I do when you start going on: I stop listening."
This "column that celebrates" itself presents a quandary. As ever, my wife – who writes much of the column in any case – has solved the issue. "Just confess to all the times you've got things wrong. It is difficult to give someone a kicking who's already got their Dr Martens pointed at their own head." So, here we go, a list of sins committed over the seven years I've been writing it.
First, the punctuation: I've put a colon in this sentence in order to demonstrate that I don't really know where they go. Semicolons: a mystery, too. This lack of knowledge has not prevented me from qualifying as an English teacher, or from overusing them, particularly during the whole of 2005, when every column featured a minimum of two semicolons per sentence. And I'm sorry for starting so many sentences with conjunctions, too.
Second, the many factual inaccuracies. In a column about mind maps in 2006, I made the mistake of saying that felt pens were not to be used. This was rubbish. Felt pens are very good indeed for mind maps, I just have a prejudice against them caused by a childhood incident, and will never play any part in their promotion. In the same column, I also claimed that lateralisation of brain function was fallacy. This, too, was complete rubbish.
In 2007, the column cleverly annoyed some followers of the Catholic Church by wrongly claiming that the assumption of the Virgin Mary into heaven wasn't invented until 1950. (I was wrong. It was invented long before that). And in 2008, I wrote a series of pieces designed to wind up the ICT evangelists, which were successful in their intent.
More recently, it has evolved into the sour throwing of blunt satirical buns at the current education secretary: these have compared him, entirely unfairly, to a toad and a malfunctioning super computer; accused him of having the sole intention of replicating his own experience of school and foisting it on the rest of Britain, and of looking like Noddy on Acid. These pieces were immature, badly written pieces of pub bore tribalism. I stand by them.
Over those seven years, the educational landscape has changed considerably. In 2004, there was an optimism surrounding education, a sense that things were getting better, and there appeared to be a palpable sense of a returning respect for teachers and for the job they did. The times? They are different now.
The management culture in schools has changed radically, and, like the policemen before them, headteachers appear to be getting younger. Seven years ago, any headteacher you'd ever encounter had served a long apprenticeship in the classroom, and understood intimately the fundamental importance of the core business; they were also human and empathetic enough to understand that when a teacher required support, it should not be "support" (a euphemism for loading up with so much work they are forced to resign).
Now, we are instructed to dig the new breed: suits, MBAs and unconvincing patter about "the kids": the naked intent of which seems to be to convince governing bodies of their imminent and urgent need to upgrade to a Ferrari. Their desire to upgrade has meant that the top-down culture of institutionalised overwork has become so entrenched that people who get up after 4.30am and regard eating as important are now seen as being somehow beyond the pale.
Furthermore, and most important, we have been forced to see the children in our classrooms not as being young humans, for whom a nurturing education will grow them into nuanced adults, but as "results": green for "certain to contribute to the league tables", amber for "intervention required", red for "don't bother educating this child".
Consequently, while the numbers of schools at the bottom that are providing a woeful experience has certainly diminished as a direct result of policy, the drive for results, running two-year courses in two terms in order to bank the results, means that education, to borrow a phrase from Frank Furedi, isn't educating. What many children are now receiving is a sheep-dip version of education and, sadly, the dystopic vision that Anthony Seldon has satirised as "the factory school" has become the norm.
Bad Education: the Guardian columns by Phil Beadle is out now (Crown House, £16.99). To order a copy for £14.99 with free UK p&p, go to guardian.co.uk/bookshop or call 0330 333 6846
Phil Beadle reflects on his columns over the past seven years, and how education has changed in that time
'As long as you've got a trumpet you may as well give it a blow." So says Mrs Beadle, hands on the wheel of the motor, as we attempt to weave through the sweating Saturday traffic. "It doesn't mean that it's going to make a nice noise, though."
I have presented her with the problem that this particular column represents, ie, how to say something column-like while also telling readers about my new book, and her advice is to be brazen. "Besides … people can wear earplugs. What I mean is, they don't have to read it. That's what I do when you start going on: I stop listening."
This "column that celebrates" itself presents a quandary. As ever, my wife – who writes much of the column in any case – has solved the issue. "Just confess to all the times you've got things wrong. It is difficult to give someone a kicking who's already got their Dr Martens pointed at their own head." So, here we go, a list of sins committed over the seven years I've been writing it.
First, the punctuation: I've put a colon in this sentence in order to demonstrate that I don't really know where they go. Semicolons: a mystery, too. This lack of knowledge has not prevented me from qualifying as an English teacher, or from overusing them, particularly during the whole of 2005, when every column featured a minimum of two semicolons per sentence. And I'm sorry for starting so many sentences with conjunctions, too.
Second, the many factual inaccuracies. In a column about mind maps in 2006, I made the mistake of saying that felt pens were not to be used. This was rubbish. Felt pens are very good indeed for mind maps, I just have a prejudice against them caused by a childhood incident, and will never play any part in their promotion. In the same column, I also claimed that lateralisation of brain function was fallacy. This, too, was complete rubbish.
In 2007, the column cleverly annoyed some followers of the Catholic Church by wrongly claiming that the assumption of the Virgin Mary into heaven wasn't invented until 1950. (I was wrong. It was invented long before that). And in 2008, I wrote a series of pieces designed to wind up the ICT evangelists, which were successful in their intent.
More recently, it has evolved into the sour throwing of blunt satirical buns at the current education secretary: these have compared him, entirely unfairly, to a toad and a malfunctioning super computer; accused him of having the sole intention of replicating his own experience of school and foisting it on the rest of Britain, and of looking like Noddy on Acid. These pieces were immature, badly written pieces of pub bore tribalism. I stand by them.
Over those seven years, the educational landscape has changed considerably. In 2004, there was an optimism surrounding education, a sense that things were getting better, and there appeared to be a palpable sense of a returning respect for teachers and for the job they did. The times? They are different now.
The management culture in schools has changed radically, and, like the policemen before them, headteachers appear to be getting younger. Seven years ago, any headteacher you'd ever encounter had served a long apprenticeship in the classroom, and understood intimately the fundamental importance of the core business; they were also human and empathetic enough to understand that when a teacher required support, it should not be "support" (a euphemism for loading up with so much work they are forced to resign).
Now, we are instructed to dig the new breed: suits, MBAs and unconvincing patter about "the kids": the naked intent of which seems to be to convince governing bodies of their imminent and urgent need to upgrade to a Ferrari. Their desire to upgrade has meant that the top-down culture of institutionalised overwork has become so entrenched that people who get up after 4.30am and regard eating as important are now seen as being somehow beyond the pale.
Furthermore, and most important, we have been forced to see the children in our classrooms not as being young humans, for whom a nurturing education will grow them into nuanced adults, but as "results": green for "certain to contribute to the league tables", amber for "intervention required", red for "don't bother educating this child".
Consequently, while the numbers of schools at the bottom that are providing a woeful experience has certainly diminished as a direct result of policy, the drive for results, running two-year courses in two terms in order to bank the results, means that education, to borrow a phrase from Frank Furedi, isn't educating. What many children are now receiving is a sheep-dip version of education and, sadly, the dystopic vision that Anthony Seldon has satirised as "the factory school" has become the norm.
Bad Education: the Guardian columns by Phil Beadle is out now (Crown House, £16.99). To order a copy for £14.99 with free UK p&p, go to guardian.co.uk/bookshop or call 0330 333 6846
Students should be able to apply for 10 courses, argues Jonathan Wolff, or even to every university in the UK
Even in this age of the intrusion of market discipline into higher education, one area has remained remarkably resistant to close scrutiny. University admissions. Surprised I say this? After all, we will shortly be entering that bit of the year where it's the only news story in town. But bear with me. It is about time for the Office of Fair Trading to start sniffing around.
The Ucas system allows students to apply for up to five courses. From the point of the view of the universities, this is a sensible number. It keeps total numbers of applications down, while giving admissions tutors a bit of choice, at least for popular courses. But are the interests of applicants equally well served? How is it different from the Chamber of Commerce telling shoppers that they mustn't pop into more than five shops on their next visit to the high street? Why shouldn't an applicant apply for 10 courses, or, for that matter, to every university in the country?
Even more anomalous is the cosy little arrangement whereby a high-flying applicant has to choose between Oxford and Cambridge. The system simply will not allow an application to both, unless, apparently, you are a would-be organ scholar. Again, it is easy to see why Oxford and Cambridge like it, but really, there are lots of things in life one would like but can't have. Shouldn't our membership of the EU rule out this sort of cartel?
Despite Ucas's valiant but limited attempts, the admissions system is still stacked in favour of the university sector's convenience. And, to paraphrase Rousseau, the use we make of this convenience shows you how undeserving we are to have it.
As last week's white paper on higher education acknowledges, the admissions system is ripe for reform, although, as the white paper also demonstrates, reform can be for the worse as well as for the better. Here, the way to go is to change the power relationship so that the candidates make the final and most important decision. We could set up "post-qualification admissions" so that each candidate is given a national rank ordering on the basis of their exam results, test scores and other relevant factors. Universities can set out their minimum pre-requisites for each course in terms of subjects previously studied and necessary level of achievement. Then the applicant coming first on the national list has first pick of university and course, subject to meeting the special conditions, and then we go down the list until we run out of places.
Yes, I know this could be problematic for art school and so on, but we could work round that. And it would take a lot of effort to get the scoring right, if it were even possible. But a lot of arbitrary factors – such as whether your application arrived on the admissions tutor's desk on a sunny day, or whether you had brushed your teeth before interview – would disappear. And we might even find that we are compliant with competition law.
Years ago, if this had been suggested to me, I would have been appalled. The only way we could tell whether someone was suitable for my subject, I would have said with great confidence and authority, is by interviewing them. But increasingly I came to think that essentially an interview tests preparedness for interview. That tells you something, but not everything, and certainly not the main thing. I started meeting people I personally had rejected as undergraduates who had excelled elsewhere and gone on to do postgraduate work, and even to academic posts.
How can we tell whether the current system really selects the best candidates? Only by tracing the equally well qualified applicants we reject and see what happened to them. But of course, no university has access to that information. And even if we did, it would be hard to know how to interpret the figures.
For a while I have had the view that the undergraduate admissions system is a lottery masquerading as forensic science. But if it is a lottery, why not make it a fairer one, and, to declare my own interest, one that will be a lot less work for academics and university administrators?
• Jonathan Wolff is professor of philosophy at University College London. His column appears monthly
Students should be able to apply for 10 courses, argues Jonathan Wolff, or even to every university in the UK
Even in this age of the intrusion of market discipline into higher education, one area has remained remarkably resistant to close scrutiny. University admissions. Surprised I say this? After all, we will shortly be entering that bit of the year where it's the only news story in town. But bear with me. It is about time for the Office of Fair Trading to start sniffing around.
The Ucas system allows students to apply for up to five courses. From the point of the view of the universities, this is a sensible number. It keeps total numbers of applications down, while giving admissions tutors a bit of choice, at least for popular courses. But are the interests of applicants equally well served? How is it different from the Chamber of Commerce telling shoppers that they mustn't pop into more than five shops on their next visit to the high street? Why shouldn't an applicant apply for 10 courses, or, for that matter, to every university in the country?
Even more anomalous is the cosy little arrangement whereby a high-flying applicant has to choose between Oxford and Cambridge. The system simply will not allow an application to both, unless, apparently, you are a would-be organ scholar. Again, it is easy to see why Oxford and Cambridge like it, but really, there are lots of things in life one would like but can't have. Shouldn't our membership of the EU rule out this sort of cartel?
Despite Ucas's valiant but limited attempts, the admissions system is still stacked in favour of the university sector's convenience. And, to paraphrase Rousseau, the use we make of this convenience shows you how undeserving we are to have it.
As last week's white paper on higher education acknowledges, the admissions system is ripe for reform, although, as the white paper also demonstrates, reform can be for the worse as well as for the better. Here, the way to go is to change the power relationship so that the candidates make the final and most important decision. We could set up "post-qualification admissions" so that each candidate is given a national rank ordering on the basis of their exam results, test scores and other relevant factors. Universities can set out their minimum pre-requisites for each course in terms of subjects previously studied and necessary level of achievement. Then the applicant coming first on the national list has first pick of university and course, subject to meeting the special conditions, and then we go down the list until we run out of places.
Yes, I know this could be problematic for art school and so on, but we could work round that. And it would take a lot of effort to get the scoring right, if it were even possible. But a lot of arbitrary factors – such as whether your application arrived on the admissions tutor's desk on a sunny day, or whether you had brushed your teeth before interview – would disappear. And we might even find that we are compliant with competition law.
Years ago, if this had been suggested to me, I would have been appalled. The only way we could tell whether someone was suitable for my subject, I would have said with great confidence and authority, is by interviewing them. But increasingly I came to think that essentially an interview tests preparedness for interview. That tells you something, but not everything, and certainly not the main thing. I started meeting people I personally had rejected as undergraduates who had excelled elsewhere and gone on to do postgraduate work, and even to academic posts.
How can we tell whether the current system really selects the best candidates? Only by tracing the equally well qualified applicants we reject and see what happened to them. But of course, no university has access to that information. And even if we did, it would be hard to know how to interpret the figures.
For a while I have had the view that the undergraduate admissions system is a lottery masquerading as forensic science. But if it is a lottery, why not make it a fairer one, and, to declare my own interest, one that will be a lot less work for academics and university administrators?
• Jonathan Wolff is professor of philosophy at University College London. His column appears monthly
For prisoners, the time and opportunity to get involved in something can bring back the real person
Inside prison, the education department is one of the spaces where men sometimes feel able to let down their defences a little and live, just briefly, an ordinary life. Our philosophy class is that sort of space and sometimes we just drift into whatever happens to interest us.
This week we were reading Chaucer. I was taken aback by the enthusiasm the guys showed. And then we drifted; I think Ade was telling us something about Africa. I began to fret that we had left philosophy far behind. The school teacher in me wanted to stay on task. And then we drifted some more.
"We're not really doing philosophy are we?" I said. Ade waved my anxiety away, reassured me that all they really wanted was a little bit of space: "where we can have this sort of conversation, let our hair down and be ourselves". He and Sam told me about the caution, the arm's length discretion that they practised back on the wing, not at all like the openness that we had in class. "When someone new shows up," said Sam, "he might be OK for the first couple of weeks and then he starts on you." "So you really take time to weigh people up," said Ade. Not unlike ordinary life, except that being in prison magnifies the consequences of getting it wrong.
Casey started to tell us about the Anne Frank exhibition, which was visiting the prison. "They've asked a bunch of us to present the exhibits." He and Ian had thrown themselves into it; they had learned the material, erected the stands, set out the chapel and found a space that was free. Later, I spoke to Mark, the officer attached to the project. "This has brought the men back to life," he said, "they've been themselves. This has been an oasis, given them back their humanity. Rules are easy; it's much more difficult to let men make decisions.'
One evening, I brought in my wife to see the exhibition and she shook her head, as people do, at the wire and the fences. We went inside, turned down a corridor and there were the men, waiting to get through a gate. I said hello to Casey and introduced him to my wife. He took her hand, smiled, and there was someone I hadn't spotted before. I'd always seen him as a man with a no-nonsense, head-on attitude to things, full of enthusiasm, and now here was someone who was a little bit reticent, genteel, and, yes, it cannot be denied, charming. I called Ian over and he was the same, more-so. It struck me for the first time that perhaps Ian was quite a shy person. These guys have to make a life inside the prison and it's not easy. It made me wonder what kind of a performance I would turn in if I had a few years to do.
The exhibition was a huge success, of course it was, and afterwards there were questions and comments from the audience. But it was getting on for half past seven and Mark had to bring things to a close. "I'm afraid ladies and gentlemen that this is all we have time for. I have to get these boys tucked up for the night." One lady looked a bit puzzled and she said: "Oh are they staying here then?" "Well, yes, they are." Mark told her, "I"m afraid they have to." "What, are they...?" She wasn't being silly; she was expressing the way we all felt. "You'd never think you were in a prison," my wife said. There were the guys in their best clothes, and there, around us all, the space that they had made.
For prisoners, the time and opportunity to get involved in something can bring back the real person
Inside prison, the education department is one of the spaces where men sometimes feel able to let down their defences a little and live, just briefly, an ordinary life. Our philosophy class is that sort of space and sometimes we just drift into whatever happens to interest us.
This week we were reading Chaucer. I was taken aback by the enthusiasm the guys showed. And then we drifted; I think Ade was telling us something about Africa. I began to fret that we had left philosophy far behind. The school teacher in me wanted to stay on task. And then we drifted some more.
"We're not really doing philosophy are we?" I said. Ade waved my anxiety away, reassured me that all they really wanted was a little bit of space: "where we can have this sort of conversation, let our hair down and be ourselves". He and Sam told me about the caution, the arm's length discretion that they practised back on the wing, not at all like the openness that we had in class. "When someone new shows up," said Sam, "he might be OK for the first couple of weeks and then he starts on you." "So you really take time to weigh people up," said Ade. Not unlike ordinary life, except that being in prison magnifies the consequences of getting it wrong.
Casey started to tell us about the Anne Frank exhibition, which was visiting the prison. "They've asked a bunch of us to present the exhibits." He and Ian had thrown themselves into it; they had learned the material, erected the stands, set out the chapel and found a space that was free. Later, I spoke to Mark, the officer attached to the project. "This has brought the men back to life," he said, "they've been themselves. This has been an oasis, given them back their humanity. Rules are easy; it's much more difficult to let men make decisions.'
One evening, I brought in my wife to see the exhibition and she shook her head, as people do, at the wire and the fences. We went inside, turned down a corridor and there were the men, waiting to get through a gate. I said hello to Casey and introduced him to my wife. He took her hand, smiled, and there was someone I hadn't spotted before. I'd always seen him as a man with a no-nonsense, head-on attitude to things, full of enthusiasm, and now here was someone who was a little bit reticent, genteel, and, yes, it cannot be denied, charming. I called Ian over and he was the same, more-so. It struck me for the first time that perhaps Ian was quite a shy person. These guys have to make a life inside the prison and it's not easy. It made me wonder what kind of a performance I would turn in if I had a few years to do.
The exhibition was a huge success, of course it was, and afterwards there were questions and comments from the audience. But it was getting on for half past seven and Mark had to bring things to a close. "I'm afraid ladies and gentlemen that this is all we have time for. I have to get these boys tucked up for the night." One lady looked a bit puzzled and she said: "Oh are they staying here then?" "Well, yes, they are." Mark told her, "I"m afraid they have to." "What, are they...?" She wasn't being silly; she was expressing the way we all felt. "You'd never think you were in a prison," my wife said. There were the guys in their best clothes, and there, around us all, the space that they had made.
Our university hopefuls are coming to the end of their exams and thinking about the future
With AS exams behind him, year 12 student Sam Jacobs is throwing himself into his passion for medicine in a bid to boost his uni chances this summer. He's already attended open days at Manchester and Nottingham universities, and is embarking on more work experience at hospitals. "I am more passionate about medicine than ever," says Sam, one of five students Education Guardian is following on the route to university. "At open days, I really enjoyed meeting the professors, they were so enthusiastic. It's definitely given me a taste of what I have to look forward to."
Seventeen-year-old Sam will be the first in his family to attend university, and is relying on work experience to inform his decision-making. "Having spent a week at the Homerton hospital in north London, and learned about all the different fields, I've realised that it's important to be open-minded when looking at university courses, and know that there is more than one road." The sixth-former has visited a range of universities, including St George's University of London and Birmingham, as well as Manchester and Nottingham, to look at their course options.
His school, JFS, a mixed comprehensive in Kenton, north London, has put on lectures and sessions to tell students about the Ucas process. "Last week, we had a higher education seminar where we found out more about academia, as well as the social aspects of university," Sam says. He's not sure whether he'll start university in 2012 or 2013 because he's currently considering a gap year, a top option being GapMedics, which organises work experience for students in India, Zambia and St Lucia.
Sam's summer is busy and includes acting in a performance of Othello at the Edinburgh fringe festival and spending time helping children with special needs and learning difficulties for the charity, Norwood. He's also booked to spend the last week of August working in the rehabilitation unit of Finchley Memorial hospital to get "a greater insight into geriatrics." And there's one other thing Sam's keen to squeeze in: "I'm looking forward to enjoying spending time with my friends," he adds.
Life is a little less exciting for year 13 student Josh Kay at Stourport school in Worcestershire, who only finished his A2 exams on Friday. He needs AAB to meet his offer from Manchester University. "My exams are going well – I think," he says. "I think I've done enough to get the grades I want in the exams that I have taken so far – history and sociology. I'm not too worried about my coming English exam, as I already have high A's in my AS English and A* in this year's coursework, so it highly likely I will get an A overall. German doesn't worry me too much either as my university entrance requirements do not depend on it."
Josh admits his bedroom was one of the first victims of exam fever. "I have been revising like mad over the last month, making reams of highlighted, colour-coded, annotated pieces of paper and revision cards, and one side of my bedroom is now stacked with papers, folders and books from different subjects," he says. "Mostly revision doesn't bother me too much as I know it will all be over soon — and worth it if I get the grades I want. But I do get a bit bored sometimes."
For his uni plans, Josh has organised his student finance and applied for accommodation at both Manchester and his back-
up choice, Birmingham, but hasn't yet heard back. "My main concern about university at the moment is whether I will get the accommodation I want, as I want an en-suite room," he says. "Otherwise I'm quite excited about going as all of my possible universities are in cities – I live on the edge of a small town which isn't particularly exiting – and have great facilities and courses."
This summer, Josh has a uni shopping list to purchase, including books, clothes, stationery, and a new laptop. Also on his to-do list is passing one more exam: not related to A-levels, but his driving test. "I hope to book it after my exams are over," he says. "Apart from that, I'm also going away camping with some friends for a week, as the last thing to do together before we all go off to our different universities. I might try and find a part-time job for a few weeks over the summer as well, so I have something to do."
The only thing blotting his plans is concern about results day. "I think everyone is having a little stress about it, and I don't like to be to over-confident as it could all still not go the way I want it to," Josh admits. "I'm just hoping that I've done enough work over the last two years to get the grades I want."
Our university hopefuls are coming to the end of their exams and thinking about the future
With AS exams behind him, year 12 student Sam Jacobs is throwing himself into his passion for medicine in a bid to boost his uni chances this summer. He's already attended open days at Manchester and Nottingham universities, and is embarking on more work experience at hospitals. "I am more passionate about medicine than ever," says Sam, one of five students Education Guardian is following on the route to university. "At open days, I really enjoyed meeting the professors, they were so enthusiastic. It's definitely given me a taste of what I have to look forward to."
Seventeen-year-old Sam will be the first in his family to attend university, and is relying on work experience to inform his decision-making. "Having spent a week at the Homerton hospital in north London, and learned about all the different fields, I've realised that it's important to be open-minded when looking at university courses, and know that there is more than one road." The sixth-former has visited a range of universities, including St George's University of London and Birmingham, as well as Manchester and Nottingham, to look at their course options.
His school, JFS, a mixed comprehensive in Kenton, north London, has put on lectures and sessions to tell students about the Ucas process. "Last week, we had a higher education seminar where we found out more about academia, as well as the social aspects of university," Sam says. He's not sure whether he'll start university in 2012 or 2013 because he's currently considering a gap year, a top option being GapMedics, which organises work experience for students in India, Zambia and St Lucia.
Sam's summer is busy and includes acting in a performance of Othello at the Edinburgh fringe festival and spending time helping children with special needs and learning difficulties for the charity, Norwood. He's also booked to spend the last week of August working in the rehabilitation unit of Finchley Memorial hospital to get "a greater insight into geriatrics." And there's one other thing Sam's keen to squeeze in: "I'm looking forward to enjoying spending time with my friends," he adds.
Life is a little less exciting for year 13 student Josh Kay at Stourport school in Worcestershire, who only finished his A2 exams on Friday. He needs AAB to meet his offer from Manchester University. "My exams are going well – I think," he says. "I think I've done enough to get the grades I want in the exams that I have taken so far – history and sociology. I'm not too worried about my coming English exam, as I already have high A's in my AS English and A* in this year's coursework, so it highly likely I will get an A overall. German doesn't worry me too much either as my university entrance requirements do not depend on it."
Josh admits his bedroom was one of the first victims of exam fever. "I have been revising like mad over the last month, making reams of highlighted, colour-coded, annotated pieces of paper and revision cards, and one side of my bedroom is now stacked with papers, folders and books from different subjects," he says. "Mostly revision doesn't bother me too much as I know it will all be over soon — and worth it if I get the grades I want. But I do get a bit bored sometimes."
For his uni plans, Josh has organised his student finance and applied for accommodation at both Manchester and his back-
up choice, Birmingham, but hasn't yet heard back. "My main concern about university at the moment is whether I will get the accommodation I want, as I want an en-suite room," he says. "Otherwise I'm quite excited about going as all of my possible universities are in cities – I live on the edge of a small town which isn't particularly exiting – and have great facilities and courses."
This summer, Josh has a uni shopping list to purchase, including books, clothes, stationery, and a new laptop. Also on his to-do list is passing one more exam: not related to A-levels, but his driving test. "I hope to book it after my exams are over," he says. "Apart from that, I'm also going away camping with some friends for a week, as the last thing to do together before we all go off to our different universities. I might try and find a part-time job for a few weeks over the summer as well, so I have something to do."
The only thing blotting his plans is concern about results day. "I think everyone is having a little stress about it, and I don't like to be to over-confident as it could all still not go the way I want it to," Josh admits. "I'm just hoping that I've done enough work over the last two years to get the grades I want."
Britain's famous Beefeaters have been helping academics with an oral history research project
Arrive at the Tower of London today, and a smiling Beefeater will guide you knowledgeably through centuries of grisly history. It wasn't always the way. If you'd fetched up as an 18th-century tourist, you'd have been well advised to hold your purse tight and watch out for your womenfolk, as the Beefeaters of yore, it seems, had earned themselves a rather unsavoury reputation.
Dr Janette Martin, of the University of Huddersfield's Centre for Oral History Research and The Arms and Armour Research Group, has recently completed a research project into the evolution of the role of Yeoman Warder of the Tower of London and an analysis of their place in the British identity.
Martin explains that, rather than being lauded as a national asset, for many years the Tower guards were infamous as a shocking bunch of scoundrels in urgent need of reform. Extortion was common, with hapless sightseers their usual prey.
As far back as 1598, she discovered, Sir John Peyton, Lieutenant of the Tower, complained that many warders were "unfitt for the place; some of them utterly neglectinge their duties in service, others given to drunckeness, disorders and quarrells".
It seems, says Martin, that the dissolution continued apace.
"John Bayley claimed in his History of the Tower of London that the warders were a disgrace," she says.
"Rather than guarding the Tower, he wrote, 'they have gradually assumed to themselves the more lucrative occupation of stopping every body who wishes to visit these objects of our national pride and glory and forcing themselves upon them as their guides...'"
Fortunately for today's tourists, once the Duke of Wellington stepped in as the Tower's new Constable in 1826, he whipped the warders into shape pretty smartish. This involved sacking the worst incumbents and abolishing the practice of Beefeaters selling on their position to anyone who had a spare 250 guineas.
The role is now restricted to those who can boast 22 years of military service, have reached at least the position of Warrant Officer and been awarded a good conduct medal. The post is salaried, and today's Beefeaters – the origin of the name is uncertain – are employed by the independent charity Historic Royal Palaces.
Though Martin doubts that democratising the role was at the forefront of Wellington's mind, the effect of his reforms, she says, resulted in "anyone, however low their origins, through long and exemplary service in the army, being able to obtain this prized position at the historic heart of the nation. And this transparency of appointment allowed the warder to become a popular symbol transcending class and region, because the British army attracted recruits from England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales and Yeoman Warders were thus drawn from all parts of the kingdom."
Martin's research has involved not only examination of the Tower's archives, but also recording the stories of working Yeoman Warders in the first oral history project to capture the characters and histories of those who choose to wear the iconic uniform today.
"And make sure you call it a uniform, not a costume," she warns. "They're a bit sensitive about that. And though they live in the Tower, it's not a grace and favour thing, they pay market rent – they'd want me to get that in!"
The Yeoman Warders' hierarchy and traditions reflect that of the military system they're drawn from. Around 40 are employed at any one time, with a Chief Yeoman Warder in overall charge. In a strict hierarchy, four Yeoman Serjeants report to him, with the other Beefeaters, including the famous Raven Master, working under them.
Somewhat unusually for academic research, Martin's interviews were recorded in the Yeoman Warders' drinking club at the Tower, surrounded by bottles of Beefeater Gin. New Yeoman Warders, it seems, take part in a unique welcoming ceremony on Tower Green.
"They're given a special goblet and go back to their club to make the toast 'May you never die a Yeoman Warder'." The sentiment, Martin explains, harks back to the time when the position could be sold on.
The fact that there is still only one female Beefeater is explained by the far smaller pool of women than men who can demonstrate the required 22 years of military service. Though numbers of women in the services are vastly higher now than two decades ago, the time lag before they're eligible to apply means it's likely to be a while before there'll be a large contingent of female Beefeaters welcoming tourists to the Tower.
What, then, draws an ex-serviceperson to a job in which the most frequently asked question is "where's the toilet?"
"When they leave the army," observes Martin, "they're still relatively young. It's security. And after you've had a career going round the world, the world comes to you."
There are odd quirks to being a Yeoman Warder, Martin discovered. Some of their apartments look out over Tower Green, and one Beefeater described in his testimony the strangeness of doing his washing-up looking out over the spot where Anne Boleyn, among other unfortunates, had her head chopped off.
Work doesn't finish when the tourists go home. Part of the job has always been to guard the Tower at night. Martin's delving through the archives revealed that there was a civil service dispute in the 1930s during which the Yeoman Warders went on strike. "However, they felt it was still vital to patrol the Tower at night," she explains, "and so they continued with that part of their job and then donated their pay to charity."
As well as a scholarly article and the creation of an oral history archive, Martin is working on an illustrated book showing how the Beefeaters have comprehensively rehabilitated themselves to become a popular and highly respected icon of Britishness. What goes on in London's oldest private drinking club once the Ceremony of the Keys is over at 10pm, however, the public will never know.
Britain's famous Beefeaters have been helping academics with an oral history research project
Arrive at the Tower of London today, and a smiling Beefeater will guide you knowledgeably through centuries of grisly history. It wasn't always the way. If you'd fetched up as an 18th-century tourist, you'd have been well advised to hold your purse tight and watch out for your womenfolk, as the Beefeaters of yore, it seems, had earned themselves a rather unsavoury reputation.
Dr Janette Martin, of the University of Huddersfield's Centre for Oral History Research and The Arms and Armour Research Group, has recently completed a research project into the evolution of the role of Yeoman Warder of the Tower of London and an analysis of their place in the British identity.
Martin explains that, rather than being lauded as a national asset, for many years the Tower guards were infamous as a shocking bunch of scoundrels in urgent need of reform. Extortion was common, with hapless sightseers their usual prey.
As far back as 1598, she discovered, Sir John Peyton, Lieutenant of the Tower, complained that many warders were "unfitt for the place; some of them utterly neglectinge their duties in service, others given to drunckeness, disorders and quarrells".
It seems, says Martin, that the dissolution continued apace.
"John Bayley claimed in his History of the Tower of London that the warders were a disgrace," she says.
"Rather than guarding the Tower, he wrote, 'they have gradually assumed to themselves the more lucrative occupation of stopping every body who wishes to visit these objects of our national pride and glory and forcing themselves upon them as their guides...'"
Fortunately for today's tourists, once the Duke of Wellington stepped in as the Tower's new Constable in 1826, he whipped the warders into shape pretty smartish. This involved sacking the worst incumbents and abolishing the practice of Beefeaters selling on their position to anyone who had a spare 250 guineas.
The role is now restricted to those who can boast 22 years of military service, have reached at least the position of Warrant Officer and been awarded a good conduct medal. The post is salaried, and today's Beefeaters – the origin of the name is uncertain – are employed by the independent charity Historic Royal Palaces.
Though Martin doubts that democratising the role was at the forefront of Wellington's mind, the effect of his reforms, she says, resulted in "anyone, however low their origins, through long and exemplary service in the army, being able to obtain this prized position at the historic heart of the nation. And this transparency of appointment allowed the warder to become a popular symbol transcending class and region, because the British army attracted recruits from England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales and Yeoman Warders were thus drawn from all parts of the kingdom."
Martin's research has involved not only examination of the Tower's archives, but also recording the stories of working Yeoman Warders in the first oral history project to capture the characters and histories of those who choose to wear the iconic uniform today.
"And make sure you call it a uniform, not a costume," she warns. "They're a bit sensitive about that. And though they live in the Tower, it's not a grace and favour thing, they pay market rent – they'd want me to get that in!"
The Yeoman Warders' hierarchy and traditions reflect that of the military system they're drawn from. Around 40 are employed at any one time, with a Chief Yeoman Warder in overall charge. In a strict hierarchy, four Yeoman Serjeants report to him, with the other Beefeaters, including the famous Raven Master, working under them.
Somewhat unusually for academic research, Martin's interviews were recorded in the Yeoman Warders' drinking club at the Tower, surrounded by bottles of Beefeater Gin. New Yeoman Warders, it seems, take part in a unique welcoming ceremony on Tower Green.
"They're given a special goblet and go back to their club to make the toast 'May you never die a Yeoman Warder'." The sentiment, Martin explains, harks back to the time when the position could be sold on.
The fact that there is still only one female Beefeater is explained by the far smaller pool of women than men who can demonstrate the required 22 years of military service. Though numbers of women in the services are vastly higher now than two decades ago, the time lag before they're eligible to apply means it's likely to be a while before there'll be a large contingent of female Beefeaters welcoming tourists to the Tower.
What, then, draws an ex-serviceperson to a job in which the most frequently asked question is "where's the toilet?"
"When they leave the army," observes Martin, "they're still relatively young. It's security. And after you've had a career going round the world, the world comes to you."
There are odd quirks to being a Yeoman Warder, Martin discovered. Some of their apartments look out over Tower Green, and one Beefeater described in his testimony the strangeness of doing his washing-up looking out over the spot where Anne Boleyn, among other unfortunates, had her head chopped off.
Work doesn't finish when the tourists go home. Part of the job has always been to guard the Tower at night. Martin's delving through the archives revealed that there was a civil service dispute in the 1930s during which the Yeoman Warders went on strike. "However, they felt it was still vital to patrol the Tower at night," she explains, "and so they continued with that part of their job and then donated their pay to charity."
As well as a scholarly article and the creation of an oral history archive, Martin is working on an illustrated book showing how the Beefeaters have comprehensively rehabilitated themselves to become a popular and highly respected icon of Britishness. What goes on in London's oldest private drinking club once the Ceremony of the Keys is over at 10pm, however, the public will never know.
If you swear at a referee, will you automatically get sent off? Scientific researchers have tackled the issue
Do swear words have predictable effects on football referees? A team of Austrian scientists tackles that question in a study called May I Curse a Referee? Swear Words and Consequences.
Stefan Stieger, of the University of Austria, together with Andrea Praschinger and Christine Pomikal, who describe themselves as "independent scientists", published their report in the Journal of Sports Science and Medicine.
Referees enforce the laws of the game set forth by the sport's governing organisation, Fifa. The pertinent regulation is Fifa's law 12 (Fouls and Misconduct), whose very last section – section 81 – simply says: "A player who is guilty of using offensive, insulting or abusive language or gestures must be sent off."
Stieger, Praschinger and Pomikal performed their research in two steps. First, they obtained some swear words. Then, obscenities in hand, they found some referees who were willing to answer a survey.
The team began by drawing up a list of 100 potential swear words. They pared the list by recruiting 13 German-speaking residents of Austria, six women and seven men. Each Deutsch-Lautsprecher evaluated each word, rating both its degree of insultingness and whether it could be properly applied to both men and women. "Participants [also] had to rate the insulting content of each swear word. Does the swear word concern the person's power of judgment (eg blind person), intelligence (eg fool), appearance (eg fatso), sexual orientation (eg bugger), or genitals (eg crap)?"
The researchers then found 113 game referees from across Austria, and posed the following situation to each of them:
During a stoppage in play, one team's captain comes up to you and suggests you make a particular ruling. You decline. "Hereupon the team captain says … (the swear word mentioned below), turns around and walks [away]." Do you, the referee, respond by issuing (1) a red card or (2) a yellow card or (3) an admonition, or do you (4) do nothing at all?
The referee was asked this for each of the 28 swear words.
Their answers showed a clear pattern. "Analysing all swear words independent of their offensive nature, it was found that 55.7% of the swear words would have received a red card, although law 12 would have prescribed a red card in all cases." Only a very few officials would always, automatically, eject the player.
Digging into the nitty-gritty of the data, the researchers gained two general, rule-of-thumb insights. First, "that the decision to assign any card was dependent on the insulting content of the swear word". Second, that "referees would have issued a red card for sexually inclined words or phrases rather than for terms insulting one's appearance".
• Marc Abrahams is editor of the bimonthly Annals of Improbable Research and organiser of the Ig Nobel prize
If you swear at a referee, will you automatically get sent off? Scientific researchers have tackled the issue
Do swear words have predictable effects on football referees? A team of Austrian scientists tackles that question in a study called May I Curse a Referee? Swear Words and Consequences.
Stefan Stieger, of the University of Austria, together with Andrea Praschinger and Christine Pomikal, who describe themselves as "independent scientists", published their report in the Journal of Sports Science and Medicine.
Referees enforce the laws of the game set forth by the sport's governing organisation, Fifa. The pertinent regulation is Fifa's law 12 (Fouls and Misconduct), whose very last section – section 81 – simply says: "A player who is guilty of using offensive, insulting or abusive language or gestures must be sent off."
Stieger, Praschinger and Pomikal performed their research in two steps. First, they obtained some swear words. Then, obscenities in hand, they found some referees who were willing to answer a survey.
The team began by drawing up a list of 100 potential swear words. They pared the list by recruiting 13 German-speaking residents of Austria, six women and seven men. Each Deutsch-Lautsprecher evaluated each word, rating both its degree of insultingness and whether it could be properly applied to both men and women. "Participants [also] had to rate the insulting content of each swear word. Does the swear word concern the person's power of judgment (eg blind person), intelligence (eg fool), appearance (eg fatso), sexual orientation (eg bugger), or genitals (eg crap)?"
The researchers then found 113 game referees from across Austria, and posed the following situation to each of them:
During a stoppage in play, one team's captain comes up to you and suggests you make a particular ruling. You decline. "Hereupon the team captain says … (the swear word mentioned below), turns around and walks [away]." Do you, the referee, respond by issuing (1) a red card or (2) a yellow card or (3) an admonition, or do you (4) do nothing at all?
The referee was asked this for each of the 28 swear words.
Their answers showed a clear pattern. "Analysing all swear words independent of their offensive nature, it was found that 55.7% of the swear words would have received a red card, although law 12 would have prescribed a red card in all cases." Only a very few officials would always, automatically, eject the player.
Digging into the nitty-gritty of the data, the researchers gained two general, rule-of-thumb insights. First, "that the decision to assign any card was dependent on the insulting content of the swear word". Second, that "referees would have issued a red card for sexually inclined words or phrases rather than for terms insulting one's appearance".
• Marc Abrahams is editor of the bimonthly Annals of Improbable Research and organiser of the Ig Nobel prize
Considering Oxbridge, digital skills and misleading labels
If I lean dangerously out of my office window, I can glimpse four or five university institutions whose academic standing is such that the Ministry of Education of any other European country would kill to have them on their patch (Ticket to the top? 21 June). Oxford and Cambridge together admit about 8,500 UK undergraduates each year, out of a total for all universities of about half a million. The great majority of clever and well-motivated young people are not going to end up at Oxbridge, and so the "half of state school teachers [who] wouldn't advise their brightest pupils to consider Oxbridge", and who probably know more than anyone about their students' abilities and personalities, may be doing them a service.
Dr Paul Temple
Institute of Education, University of London
• While universities have made attempts in outreach, schools aren't doing the same. There's a lot of talk about private-school grooming, but is this completely impossible for state schools to achieve?
aguers via EducationGuardian.co.uk
• I had to smile when I read your article about Oxbridge outreach schemes followed by a letter from Sally Tomlinson of Oxford referring to why Hackney Downs school was closed in 1995. The Hackney Downs I knew as a pupil in the 1950s did not need research-worshipping universities to intervene at all. It was inspired and inspiring teachers, moderate discipline, outstanding leadership and high values that led hundreds of working-class kids from deprived backgrounds to go to universities and polytechnics, and become leading academics, scientists, medics, lawyers, engineers and artists.
It is time governments concentrated on developing schools that are like Hackney Downs.
Mike Goldstein
Streetly, West Midlands
Martha Lane Fox gives some very persuasive arguments, but misses two quite important points (Could you help someone who really needs to learn? 21 June). I currently live in a homeless hostel, and even if I could afford some computer "kit", I wouldn't be able to get connected – I am only going to live here for six months or so, and no telecom company will offer a contract for so short a period of time. My position will be the same as tens of thousands of other people's in the country.
Second, there is a problem with the skills gap. Over four years ago, Microsoft launched its Office 2007 product, which has a completely different look and feel from previous products. My local further education colleges are only now beginning to teach the new version. This means that in skills terms I am way behind anyone who is currently in work and regularly using computers.
Andy Fidler
Southampton
Naming is a powerful vehicle for the promotion of understanding or, equally, for obfuscation. With this in mind, I'm pondering two of the labels being used in discussions about vocational education (A Bacc for the future, 21 June).
In what sense does a "university technical college" embody the traditions, mission and practices of a university? And does the label Professional Technical Baccalaureate imply that Ebacc will not be "professional" in all or some senses of the word? There's a surprising lack of comment from institutions and associations interested in preserving clarity about these labels. Absence of critique helps to ensure another political victory for Michael Gove in the shaping of public consciousness.
Gus Pennington
Faceby, North Yorkshire