## What Matters (Mathematically) the Most

Sometimes when maths teachers visit I feel frustrated that I can’t make suggestions to them of what they could change (or keep) to improve how their pupils do in maths, as the holistic approach of the school can make it feel as everything is inextricably tied together. However, there is one strategy that has made a big difference for us that can, crucially, be replicated in other settings:

• Identify ‘high leverage’ topics
• Teach them as early as possible in KS3
• Give them lots of time when they are initially taught
• Interleave them into every subsequent topic, whenever possible
• Frequently revisit and retest them as stand-alone topics

1. Identify high-leverage topics

These are the topics that:

• Can come up anywhere (e.g. fractions in a perimeter question)
• Can derail a lesson if they’re not in place (e.g. dividing by 10)
• Tend to terrify all but the strongest pupils (e.g. calculating -629 + 433)
• Are counter-intuitive (e.g. adding fractions)
• Are prone to ‘System 1’ (i.e. unthinking) errors (e.g. squaring, order of operations)
• Are the typical building-blocks we don’t have time for in KS5 and are the bane of A-level teachers’ lives (…..all of algebra?)
• Are easy ways to gain (and lose) simple, predictable marks in exams (e.g. rounding)
• Are easily confused: what Bruno Reddy describes as ‘minimally different topics’ (e.g. three measures of centrality (mode/median/mean), or perimeter and area)

The ones we’ve identified are:

• Automaticity with simple calculations (adding and subtracting small values, halving and doubling small values, times tables (including division), adding 10 to any value)
• Some aspects of place value (multiplying and dividing by powers of 10, in particular)
• Efficient and reliable written methods for the four operations, including with decimals
• Directed numbers (particularly the four operations)
• Fractions (pretty much everything about them: simplifying, forming equivalents, comparing, ordering, the four operations…)
• Simplifying expressions, especially when the variables look scary
• Rearranging expressions, especially when there are negative coefficients
• Solving equations (linear)
• Rearranging equations (both linear and polynomials)
• Substitution
• Order of operations, particularly the importance of leaving addition and subtraction to the end of the calculation
• Rounding (including to significant figures)
• Area and perimeter (simple cases, focus on not muddling procedures)
• The three averages (simple cases, as above)
• Simple proportional reasoning (e.g. in an equation, being able to multiply both sides by 5, or doing opposites to both parts in a product (e.g. 12.5 x 16 = 25 x 8), etc. Obvious cases are finding the ‘best value’ product when differently-sized packets have different prices, but it also comes into percentages of amounts, etc).
• ‘part + part = whole’ (e.g. in an L-shape, the two lengths on the right-hand side must have the same length as the height on the left-hand side), typically represented on blank number lines
• Key vocabulary (integer, associative, inverse, eliminate, variable, etc)
• Key number facts and relationships (the first 10 primes, 15 squares, 10 cubes, fraction-decimal conversions, the effect of dividing by 0.5 or 0.1, etc)

1. Teach them as early as possible in KS3

That list is a lot! It takes up almost all of Y7 and Y8. Even then, some are only covered to the extent that they allow us to continuously drill, quiz and probe how well they differentiate ideas. For example, our Y8s frequently do questions with perimeter and area, but haven’t been taught anything beyond area of rectangles and perimeter of ‘any shape’. Similarly, our Y8s and Y9s are pretty good at applying the three averages as procedures, but have few insights (yet) into what they measure. That will come in Year 10 (I am convinced it’s hard to meaningfully understand statistics before then, so am hoping the gamble of separating procedures and understanding will pay off).

We put directed numbers as early as possible in Year 7, once their written methods with decimals are sound. This is followed by ‘all of fractions’ and then…Year 7 is almost over! Angles are studied to a limited extent, but as a vehicle for practising written methods (e.g. practising subtracting by finding the missing angle on a straight line).

Year 8 could probably be summarised as ‘algebra, all year.’

In Year 9 we go a bit wild and do percentages and then shape until the end of the year (angles, with understanding what an angle actually is, then Pythagoras, trigonometry, transformations, etc).

1. Give them lots of time when they are initially taught

Teach every variation that you can think of

Take the simplest aspect of solving equations. 4a=12, or a+5=11 might spring to mind. That’s barely scratching the surface. These cases are relatively obvious to all but the weakest quartile. The examples below need to be shown to pupils.

2a + 2 = 12 (simplify first)

12 = a – 10 (unknown on the RHS)

7 = 3a (result is a fraction)

5.7 = a + 7.8 (decimals AND a negative solution)

3/4 + a = 9/10 (fractions requiring LCD)

10 – a = 20 (answer is a ‘surprise negative)

Failure to teach these explicitly disadvantages the vast majority of pupils. As teachers we frequently make the mistake of showing our pupils the classic examples of a case and thus never increasing the flexibility of their thinking. Inevitably, they freeze once the problem doesn’t take the form they’ve seen – it looks like a totally different problem!

Thinking of every variation is time-consuming, but also enjoyable. It forms the basis of fruitful and professional discussion with colleagues (and can be done via Twitter, I’ve discovered) and can be aided by trawling through very old textbooks and exams (enjoyable, if dusty, work!).

Plan for every misconception, and pre-empt problems by explicitly teaching about them

Many of us wait until the pupils say “but….why?” when we show them the procedure to add fractions. Inevitably, the explanation is messy and confusing, even for us. Sometimes we plan to ‘explain’ it by using diagrams. This might show it working, but still doesn’t give them the language to explain why one way makes sense and another way doesn’t. It should be planned for in advance, agreed with colleagues and scripted (to ensure clarity and economy of language). Some of my best explanations were in my PGCE year, when I used to rehearse the rationale for things; it should never have been dropped!

Include lessons that focus on addressing cases where pupils muddle concepts and are likely to make errors

In the past, I have finished each year thinking “I really should have done a lesson to get [class] to practise the difference between finding a percentage of an amount and reverse percentages” and then not done it. Because it is hard, and it is scary. The Y9 teachers are mentally preparing themselves for it: we’ve planned our percentages lessons in anticipation teaching what will undoubtedly be one of the toughest lessons (or 2 lessons…or 3 lessons…) of the year. It is really, really hard to help pupils see the difference between these two types of questions. This is why we have to force ourselves to do it; praying they’ll see the difference ‘on the day’ – what I’ve always done in the past – is to abdicate responsibility at the point we know they need us most.

There are many topics like this: order of operations questions with a negative result (e.g. 3 – 10 x 2) or questions that combine surface area and volume.

Do lots of drills, both on decision-making and on procedures

I was slowly losing my mind as I taught some of the weakest pupils to calculate with directed numbers. Showing them quick work-arounds for some questions (e.g. -4-5 = -9 can be quickly calculated because it is a total distance, or -3 + 7 can be quickly calculated by rewriting as +7 – 3 = 4) was causing as many problems as it solved as they were confusing when to apply them, even though they understood the ideas in principle. A teacher in the department asked me what drills I’d used to help them spot when to use them. It was a blinding flash of the bloody obvious: I hadn’t done any. I’d focused on calculation drills – completing those calculations – but not on decision-making drills – identifying the questions where those work-arounds are applicable. Drills aren’t mindless if they’re helping pupils to focus in on critical decisions, or improving pupils’ fluency and accuracy.

Do lots of extended and applied questions where they have to make decisions

Once they know what they’re doing with the basics, make the questions TOUGH! It’s no good learning to multiply two negatives if they can’t extrapolate to four negatives. It’s easy to simplify the signs in -2 x -3; it can quickly become mindless and ineffective to practise. A better test of application is -2 x -3 x 4 x 0.5 ÷ -10. Once the pupil has to think about other things – such as how to multiply by 0.5, or divide an integer by 10 – we can see how well they really recall and apply the rules of negatives.

1. Interleave them into every subsequent topic, wherever possible

Answering this question requires much more thought than “Expand 7(2a-3)”

“Form an expression for the perimeter of a regular heptagon with a side length of 2a-3.”

And

“Calculate the area and perimeter of a square with a side length of .”

Requires much more thought, recall and organisation than simply presenting the underlying calculations.

Simplifying expressions is relatively easy. Simplifying this expression is not:

7/8ab + 2/3a -1/2b + a/2 -ab

Interleaving in this manner, in every topic, communicates to pupils that everything they have been taught is relevant and important. They can’t decide “I’m bad at fractions, but that’s ok.” They’ll realise they have little choice but to improve and stay good. Similarly, their teacher will face the same reality: they can’t afford to give up on the topics that are most challenging to teach.

I have this checklist in my mind when I design questions for any lesson:

Could we include….

• decimals?
• fractions?
• directed numbers?
• the order of operations?
• perimeter, area or angles?
• averages?
• indices?
• more challenging language?
• Technical vocabulary (write ‘variable’ or ‘unknown’ instead of ‘letter’)
• Technical syntax (“A number is picked such that…” “Demonstrate that, for all integers…”)
• An opportunity to include some ‘scary’ generalist words (writing ‘nasturtium’ instead of ‘flower’ and ‘yacht’ instead of ‘boat’ is another way to bring valuable difficulty to routine practice and teaches them to be comfortable with not knowing every noun they see in questions)?

1. Frequently revisit and retest them as stand-alone topics

A third of our weekly quizzes is given over to explicitly testing pupils on these high-leverage topics. This gives us valuable information about their retention and growing misconceptions, and forces us (and our pupils) to give over regular revision time to them.

All of this takes a lot of planning up-front, unsurprisingly. It also demands a pretty rigorous mindset when planning. Thankfully, it can be introduced gradually and has a snowball effect as pupils become accustomed to regularly revising tough topics. Additionally, this strategy can be applied in almost any setting, regardless of your school’s meta-approach to teaching, learning and behaviour, so can be operated without too much interference.

Think this sounds interesting? Come visit! We love having guests. It challenges our thinking and it boosts the pupils’ confidence to have people come in to see them.

Think it sounds wonderful? Apply to join our team of enthusiastic maths nerds! We are advertising for a maths teacher, starting in September (or earlier, for the right candidate). Closing SOON: https://www.tes.com/jobs/vacancy/maths-teacher-brent-440947

For those who spotted it, the title is ripped off from one of those poems that we fall in love with aged 15 and meet again 15 years later…

Filed under curriculum design, lesson design, pedagogy

## Masses of Maths: what should pupils learn by rote?

Should maths be learned by rote?

Some of the most egregious pedagogy is born when the answer to that question is ‘100% yes’ or ‘100% no’.

“100% yes” conjures up – perhaps rightly – an image of maths as a joyless subject whereby pupils are learning algorithms without meaning. Although it can feel like an easy way to teach, pupils are unlikely to succeed with equations such as (4a+4)/3a = 17 if the approach to linear equations has simply been ‘change side, change sign’ and practise only the simplest problem types (e.g. 4a + 3 = 23). Automaticity with times tables, simple written calculation and being able to regurgitate the order of operations is of limited help if the pupils aren’t taught how to think flexibly (i.e. if they can’t see the deep structure of a question).

“100% no” is also problematic. Typecast as the progressive approach to maths, it is founded on exploring maths as a way to develop deep understanding (and an assumption that fluency and confidence arise from there). It is championed by academics such as Jo Boaler and many teachers (and maths consultants…), and the heart of much debate. This approach argues that relational facts needn’t – and shouldn’t – be taught as such and certainly don’t need to be explicitly memorised.

Relational facts are those that can be derived from a smaller field of arbitrary conventions (such as ‘angles in a straight line sum to 180o’ is derived from the convention that angles around a point sum to 360o) or easily understood and recalled relationships (e.g. I can calculate 3 x 8 by doubling a relationship I do recall – 3 x 4 = 12 – to get 3 x 8 = 24).

There is clear merit in an approach that builds relational understanding1. It is an important part of building the storage strength of concepts2 (how well a concept or fact connects to other memories and concepts) but, used alone, it ignores what is happening in pupils’ brains as they work.

Simplistically put: as pupils work on a new problem or idea, their working memory is gradually being ‘used up’ until there is little capacity for additional processing. Take this problem:

0.8 + 0.4 x 52 ÷ 0.01

A pupil has to think about all of the following:

• The order of operations (that they should complete the multiplication and division first AND that, within that, that they should work from left to right)
• What the notation []2 means
• The value of 52
• A strategy to multiply an integer by 0.4
• A strategy to divide by 0.01

That is a lot to think about! If trying to think about each idea from scratch, their working memory will soon overload, making the calculation seem more complex than it is.

In comparison, the problem is much simpler for a pupil who confidently knows the following facts by heart:

• 52 = 25
• ÷0.01 = x100
• To multiply an integer by a decimal, I can ignore the place value at first and adjust afterwards
• 4 x 25 = 100
• 4 x 25 = 4 x 2.5
• 4 x 2.5 = 10

0.8 + 0.4 x 52 ÷ 0.01 = 0.8 + (0.4 x 25 x 100) = 0.8 + (4 x 2.5 x 100)

A much less daunting calculation, and one where much less tricky processing or self-doubting thought has taken place.

What does a knowledge grid have to do with it?

In the Michaela maths department, we aim to identify all the facts and relationships that can be codified as a single nugget of knowledge (or set of clear steps) that will reduce pressure on pupils’ working memories. This frees them up to tackle more complex and interesting problems and allows them to feel confident in their reasoning and solutions.

This does NOT mean teaching without understanding. It is the opposite: we aim for pupils to understand why something works, or is the way it is, and then to be so confident of that fact or relationship that they can recall and use it with minimal effort and worry.

The purpose of a knowledge grid – explained in detail by Joe Kirby – is to set out what these facts and relationships are, and to support pupils in learning them by heart.

Take indices, which the Y7 pupils have just learned about:

This sets out what we expect pupils to know by heart if they are going to be able to tackle more complex or interesting problems involving indices (e.g. What is the final digit of 10100+999+598?). Knowing by heart that ab x ac = ab+c doesn’t replace knowing why this relationship is true. But, knowing it by heart – and practising explaining why it is true – frees pupils up to tackle problems like ‘evaluate 23 x 52 x 22 x 53′.

Here is the grid for Y8 pupils at the outset of learning to solve linear equations:

Here is an example for Y8s learning to substitute and use formulae:

Sometimes it is solely a collection of relationships, such as the grid Y7 are about to work from:

(shading in grey typically indicates ‘optional’ knowledge, in that it is possible to be successful in maths without knowing those facts by heart…at least not at their stage!).

A useful rule of thumb is: if we, as maths teachers, know these facts by heart because they help us work more efficiently and confidently, then the pupils should know it by heart too.

How is it used?

In lessons, the knowledge grid lays out the agreed definition and procedures that we want to share with pupils. The constraint of the definition means we teach to a higher technical standard, ensuring that we stick to language like ‘eliminate this operation’ (instead of saying ‘get rid of the 4’ in a bid to make the maths feel more accessible). Knowing that the pupils must understand and use a phrase like ‘isolate the unknown’ forces us to explain it with greater clarity, check they understand it precisely, and then use it constantly.

In most lessons, pupils are quizzed on the terms and facts in the knowledge grids. This can be cold calling (asking questions and picking students), checking everyone’s answer on mini-whiteboards, or giving a 1-minute quiz in books (e.g. “write the formula for the area of each of these shapes” or “rewrite each of these as a multiplication: ÷0.5, ÷0.1, ÷0.25, ÷0.125, ÷0.01, ÷0.2”).

Once a week, pupils ‘self-quiz’ at home on the definitions and facts the teacher has set for that week. Typically, this is 10-15 facts/definitions. Pupils first practise saying the facts to themselves, then cover the right-hand side and write the definitions based on the prompts on the left-hand side, and then correct their errors in green. They continue this until a page is filled. It is possible to game it by mindlessly copying, but it becomes obvious if they’re doing so because…

Once a week, pupils take a formal, but low-stakes, written quiz, of which half will be a knowledge grid test (the other half tests their ability to apply procedures and try unfamiliar problems).

The levels of scaffolding vary; these are the knowledge grid sections Y8 took recently:

Pitfalls We Fell Into

An easy temptation is to produce a ‘revision mat’ full of facts, examples, diagrams and mnemonics. Although this is close to a knowledge grid, it isn’t as useful. It must be REALLY EASY to test yourself from a knowledge grid without ‘accidentally’ seeing the answer, or having prompts. It must be really clear what they should know by heart (the definitions and terms and facts) and what is just useful for jogging their memories (examples, where appropriate).

Another easy error is to go overboard with how much you try to codify and write down. If you, as teachers, struggle to articulate the definition or steps for something, it probably isn’t useful or suitable. Make steps for a strategy (e.g. solving equations) as generalised as possible so that pupils aren’t learning multiple minimally different steps and becoming muddled and frustrated. The more generalised the steps, the more they can be used to illuminate the common features of varied problems (and thus help pupils see the underlying structure).

Pitfalls We’re Still Trying to Avoid

We are still struggling to decide which aspects of algebraic simplification can be listed as facts: here is the start of a debate I was having in my head this morning for updating the facts in the ‘expressions and simplification’ grid:

Any that are included are there because pupils had become faster by recalling them as facts (as opposed to working them out) or their work was slowed because they weren’t confident when simplifying a fundamentally identical expression.

I hope it goes without saying that we would love to know what you think and if you have tried anything similar. Do you have facts and rules, besides those set out in examination specifications, that make a big difference to your pupils when learned by heart?

Whether this fascinates or enrages you, get in touch and come see the pupils (and grids…!) in action. You’ll have a great time 🙂

1: See Skemp, R.R (1977) Relational Understanding and Instrumental Understanding, Mathematics Teaching, 77: 20-6

2: See https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1FQoGUCgb5w for Bjork discussing research in this field.

Filed under Interesting or Fun

## Long-Term Solutions (Or: Why Make a Textbook)

This is my sixth year of teaching and I think it’s the first time I have taught equations properly to a KS3 class. I was almost there last year, and thought I was doing it well, but I now know there are several topics where I completely let the pupils down. This post is about how I could have been better-prepared earlier in my career, and avoided leaving later teachers with a mess to clean up.

———

Naveen Rizvi’s piece yesterday in the TES caused a stir that surprised me. Many people had a negative reaction beyond what I would have expected (I won’t link to them) and was followed by some negativity – or at least concern and alarmed questions – when Bodil subsequently shared an example of two pages from the booklets we give to pupils.

As I see it, these are some of the main barriers preventing pupils from achieving their potential in maths that CAN’T be dealt with by better resourcing:

However, there are more issues than this that are – I think – relatively neglected outside of the rarefied atmosphere of online edu-chat and conferences.

Barriers created in lessons:

1. A capable but exhausted teacher who can’t prepare adequately for lessons (their department is under-resourced and teach a full and varied timetable)
2. Confusion about what they should be covering to prepare for the end of Y11 (it is unclear what the pupils covered in Y7-9, or in how much detail; there is uncertainty about what should *actually* be taught when they see ‘averages, 1 week’ on the SOW… Does it mean calculating the mean, median, mode and range only, or complex questions where some values are missing and then one value is changed?).
3. Painfully optimistic allocations of timing to teach topics (expressions – 1 week; fractions – 2 weeks), due to insufficient clarity about what should actually be taught.
4. A gap between what they cover in lessons (superficial) and the rigour of the exam (increasingly higher, hopefully). A recent example of this was the GCSE question: Solve for a: 2a + a + a = 18. This question is beyond trivial, but many teachers had not prepared their class for the possibility that simplifying and solving could be used in the same problem.
5. Unclear explanations, or rule-based explanations, that makes it difficult for pupils to use their knowledge flexibly or to ask useful questions (e.g. “change side, change sign” to solve linear equations because it seems quicker and easier, or convoluted steps to solve simultaneous equations).
6. Inadequately scaffolded and varied practice in lessons that doesn’t prepare them for the variety of forms maths can take in the real world (or in exams…) (We all suffer from textbooks that escalate the difficulty of questions too quickly, so that your weakest pupils get only 2-3 questions practising questions in the form a+3=10 before they’re moved onto the other three operations).
7. The practice gap (i.e. getting much less practice than pupils in other schools). Most textbooks DON’T HAVE ENOUGH QUESTIONS. At all. Most of the newest books boast how many more questions they have. It is not enough. If a pupil has only just begun to grasp a procedure, they need to do it many times to build their confidence and then begin very careful and gradual variations.
8. Pupils forgetting that they have learned something (“I swear down they never taught us that”). This comes from haphazard, or no, continuous revision or interleaving (weaving old topics into current topics).
9. Pupils doing what seems obvious to solve a problem, rather than what is mathematically correct (e.g. writing that 3/4 + 1/2 = 4/6). As above, an absence of revision and interleaving.
10. Pupils knowing they’ve learned something, but muddle it (e.g. calculating the mean when asked to comment on the median). Also as above…

I am increasingly convinced that a good textbook would begin to address these ten problems. A good textbook:

1. Offers interesting talks and prompts for pupils to have high-quality discussions in pairs and with the class. These can range from puzzles to problems that provoke cognitive dissonance (e.g. which is closer to 1/2, 1/3 or 1?)
2. Offers worthwhile questions that allow pupils to use multiple strategies to solve a problem or to calculate (e.g. 4.5 x 24)
3. Plans for revisiting old topics, particularly those that are high impact (directed numbers, fractions, equations, manipulation, mental maths, calculation) or easily confused (e.g. minimally different topics such as perimeter and area)
4. Has carefully and thoughtfully sequenced content in the big picture (e.g. equations preceding graphs) and in the fine detail (e.g. breaking down directed numbers into the many strands of understanding and procedure that pupils need to grasp).
5. Has identified key examples that a teacher might want to use with a class, covering the most important problem-types for a concept or procedure.
6. Offers clear and highly accurate explanations of WHY something works.
7. Has distilled clear steps to scaffold pupils’ work as they begin to tackle a new procedure.
8. Offers memory devices to help pupils retain and recall concepts or steps (Chants for the 7 times tables, or mnemonics such a KFC for dividing fractions (Keep the first, Flip the other, Change to times, it’s no bother).
9. Offers LOTS of practise at each level of difficulty in a procedure.
10. Has lots of interleaving available, but sectioned off, so that the teacher can judge the level of complexity students should experience.

None of this replaces planning lessons. You still want to share enthusiasm, build excitement, anticipate common errors and misconceptions, explain clearly, model explicitly and unambiguously, check for understanding, grow their confidence in the face of setbacks, celebrate success, maintain pace and focus in a safe and happy environment and – of course – go back and refine the plan and resource after you’ve taught it. This all takes planning, deep thought about your classes and huge love of maths. I don’t understand how the existence of such a resource would compromise the idea that teachers tailor their teaching to their classes.

Sadly, such a resource doesn’t appear to exist. That’s why we’re making a textbook. Please get in touch, have a look, and help up improve it!

Filed under Interesting or Fun

## Generating Examples for Generalised Rules: #collabomaths

I was at the National Maths Conference on Friday in Sheffield and could easily spend a blogpost on summarising the many things I learned. Happily, many people have already done so (and took more photos). Instead, I’d like to focus on something I’m going to try doing differently as a result of the conference and invite you to join a very small, very geeky, Twitter party.

I was struck by what was shared in the Shanghai session, when those who visited showed examples of how teachers create progression in their examples for procedures. In particular, the design they employ appears to really build up concepts of underlying structures, by showing how varied they are. James Pearce gives an excellent summary here.

Specifically, Shanghai teachers seem to prepare their examples and explanations to help students see a broader range of applications for a rule. Here is an example for multiplying indices, in terms of the examples we might show to our students in the UK:

The focus in Shanghai is on a broader range of applications, in order to make it easier for students to generalise the rule. Here is a rough example:

This would not have been instinctive to me, thinking about the cognitive load on my students and the risk that struggles with directed numbers or non-integers would cloud what was happening. However, few of the examples are inherently harder and it creates more opportunities for interleaving (in addition to illuminating the broader rule).

Here is another example, for difference of two squares:

I particularly liked the final one, and how that would be so much better a preparation for the new GCSE spec! I’m wondering if, in my efforts to make sure that work is scaffolded and students’ working memories aren’t overwhelmed, I’ve presented too narrow a range of applications at the outset and thus made it harder for them to see how to apply it outside of that narrow structure.

With this in mind, Richard White and I thought we would use the approach we learned in Luke’s session to generate ideas, whereby there is a ‘splurge’ of initial ideas and we later sort them to decide the best range of examples to show to students.

Admittedly it was an odd way to spend the later part of a Saturday night, but we found it wonderfully, geekily enjoyable to focus on a narrow piece of the curriculum and think about how we could create more demanding examples that better exemplify a rule. Here is what we created in about half an hour:

It’s far from exhaustive, but is a much better basis for planning work on (simple cases of) multiplying surds and bringing rigour to a SOW (and supporting new or struggling teachers, as well as non-specialists). It gives a clearer goal in terms of “What should they be capable of by the end?” and “What examples will I share to get these ideas across?” Richard has since used the approach in NQT mentor meetings to help those teachers to think about planning in a more focused way (i.e. to move away from resources towards exposition). As a professional exercise, it was really enjoyable as it made for a happy marriage of focus and creativity.

We are planning our next topic and, due to living in different cities, are going to see if it’s possible to try generating examples via Twitter. We’re going to have our first attempt this Wednesday (30th September) from 4.30-5.30 using #collabomaths as the hashtag (better suggested will be accepted!). I am also trying to corral my maths teaching hero (the man who taught me almost all I know, in my first school, but who thinks using MS Word is the height of tech sophistication). We will probably go with expanding single brackets, but it’s TBC. If you would like to join the teeny party, you would be very welcome 🙂

Filed under Interesting or Fun

## In Praise of Being Boring

“Which would you hate more: to overhear someone say you were stupid or say you were boring?”

“Oh definitely boring! That’s got to be the worst thing to hear.”

“You don’t mind someone thinking you’re stupid?”

“If someone thought I was stupid I’d assume they lack the intelligence to realise how clever I am.”

I won’t embarrass the speaker by naming them, but suffice to say that everyone present agreed that being called boring is the most crushing of criticisms.

Our most recent maths survey (we do one each term) yielded mostly positive results: over 90% saying they’d take maths if it were optional; the modal response to ‘Do you like maths as a subject?’ was ‘I love it’; only 1 of 259 respondents disagreed that ‘there is usually a positive atmosphere in lessons’; only 1 disagreed with the statement ‘my teacher tries her best to be fair’; the modal description of work in lessons was ‘challenging, but I can do it.’

The results don’t vary with significance when filtering for different teachers or sets, which reflects the hard work of my colleagues in the department as we try to offer the students a consistent experience of maths (we all believe in allowing group 4 to access the same curriculum and expectations as group 1, even if it can feel like a profound challenge at times).

Obviously, I should be delighted with this. I am. I feel so blessed to have colleagues that let their students feel so positive about maths.

But…

In the free-text section for ‘What 3 words do you associate with maths and maths lessons?’, 12 students said ‘boring’. My immediate reaction was to feel wracked with guilt and feel we’d let them down. Maths is amazing and beautiful, we work hard to convey our enthusiasm for it and help all students access it. We must have failed these 12 students! Even though I know it’s a huge overreaction, it niggles at part of my brain.

In a recent review of the school (as part of the Bradford Partnership), the observers commented that students were very serious-minded in maths lessons and expressed some dismay that we never rarely have occasion for the students to work in groups. Retorts spring to mind: “Of course they were serious when there was a stranger in the room!” “You only saw 10 minutes!” “There’s a lot of evidence in favour of a serious atmosphere in maths learning!” and so on, ad infinitum. I’m trying very hard not to reject this feedback just because it doesn’t fit with my current conclusions about how best to teach maths.

Are we missing an obvious solution?

I was intrigued to read a blogpost by Matthew Smith, arguing – amongst broader points – against what he perceives to be needlessly boring lessons:

“When planning a lesson on adding fractions, a bland, one dimensional lesson might involve a few examples by the teacher and a worksheet with a range of questions. A highly effective lesson that encourages all learners to make progress and see the beauty of maths might start with the following question; “Can all unit fractions be expressed as the sum of two other unit fractions?” This leads to an investigative lesson, no one knows the answer straight away and it is accessible to all students. In short, mixed ability teaching can and does work.” [his emphases]

I have selected Matthew’s post not because of anything specific about him or his school – I haven’t neither met him nor spoken with him; his posts suggest he is a committed teacher who works hard for his students – but because I think that the passage is very representative of a dominant school of thought around maths teaching.

I think it’s completely incorrect. The question – can all unit fractions be expressed as the sum of other unit fractions? – is definitely very interesting and even as I type I feel a little bubble of excitement thinking about working on it later. It’s easy to convey that excitement to students and to work together to answer that question. There is definitely a place for these questions in maths lessons – and not just for higher groups or the keenest students – for all students’ lessons.

But…

How on earth can a student ‘investigate’ that question without knowing how to add and subtract fractions? It is not an easily-learned process. It’s fiddly to actually do – selecting an appropriate denominator, forming equivalent fractions, resisting an understandable instinct to add the denominators together – and it takes a significant understanding of proportion to make the leap from grasping the initial ‘why’ (e.g. when exploring diagrams) to seeing its link to the how (having a common denominator). Even a student who can confidently explain why we need common denominators to add will occasionally relapse into ‘add everything.’ It’s not that they don’t get it, it’s that they don’t remember it at all times. It’s not obvious. It takes a huge chunk of working memory, even for A level students. Insofar as I can claim to understand psychology, it strikes me as exemplary of how System 1 can trump System 2 unless we are in a state of serious-minded vigilance as we work.

All my experience so far suggests that, particularly for students lacking mathematical confidence or mathematical knowledge (the latter label encompasses almost all students), it is profoundly unhelpful to offer too rich a context as a vehicle for learning, especially for elements of maths that require consistent, fluent and (necessarily) fiddly processes. This doesn’t mean you don’t share the opportunities to then use and enjoy that knowledge, it just means that they don’t have to happen in tandem.

My (limited) experience so far suggests this:

• Convey that the topic or skill is interesting (not necessarily useful. It usually isn’t and I’m cool with that). If it can be introduced with a ‘huh???’ moment, then that is great. It’s not always possible and it’s better to just dive in than to create a pseudo-hook.
• Show them how to do it. Scaffold it carefully, being sensitive to your group. For the love of God please don’t ask them to discover it. It’s great to ask them to notice and think about patterns, and to explain what is happening, but it is a terrible disservice not to also explain it very clearly and very carefully. And to check that they can also explain it very clearly and very carefully.
• Never stop telling them about how awesome you think this bit of maths is, how proud they’ll feel when they can do it fluently and connect it with other things.
• Let them practice. LOTS.
• Use formative assessment throughout to unpick and discuss misconceptions.
• Let them keep practising. LOTS. On their own. In purposeful silence in a supportive, happy atmosphere.
• Keep using real-time assessment to match the pitch and pace of the work to avoid students being stranded or coasting (constrained by what is possible without being torn in 30 directions).
• As more of the process is chunked into long-term memory, and confidence in the idea ‘I can actually do this’ grows, build the links between the how and the why. For example, if learning to divide by a decimal, this is the time to cement the link between the idea of ‘3÷0.5 is 6 because I am seeing how many half-cakes are in 3 cakes’ and what is happening when 3.4÷0.2 is rewritten as a fraction, multiplied by 10/10, and simplified.
• Keep returning to it throughout the year – and their time in school – so that they don’t lose what they learned. Interleave it with increasingly complex and rich contexts (not necessarily ‘real-life’. Learning to appreciate the beauty of the abstract is a great gift to see them through the tedium of adult life). Let them experience the delight that their hard work in learning how to divide by a decimal, or add a fraction, or form and solve an equation, is allowing them to work on an intriguing puzzle or fascinating context.

Maybe it’s fine that it’s boring sometimes.

When I practise A-Level topics, or practise French, I do sometimes find it boring. Not dislikeable, just sometimes tedious. But it’s an acceptable – even welcome – boredom; it’s like the way that exercise is sometimes boring. There are more fun forms of exercise, and there are more fun forms of maths, but I can’t really do either without making sure the basics are solid, and examined in isolation without the trappings and context of more exciting or intriguing problems. It’s a satisfying boredom that is part of the journey to a worthwhile goal.

In the same free-text question over half of students described maths as ‘fun’, and 49% made ‘interesting’ their word of choice. Their later comments suggested that the teachers and the atmosphere are the drivers behind this, as few made any mention of the activities in lessons. These are reasonably representative comments, to give an idea (currently all the teachers are female – hence the default to ‘she’) –

“she brings a huge buzz to the class and tries to make it as enjoyable as possible” (a Y9 who is pretty clear that he doesn’t actually like maths itself)

“They all talk about how much they like maths and when they explain something to you, you understand perfectly” (I should employ this kid to write my blogs, as he’s clearly able to say the same thing but in fewer words).

“My teacher(s) do like maths because they have a such pleasure and passion in teaching it and also they go over something more than once for those who do not understand which proves FAIRNESS.”

“they all are very passionate about it, for example refer it as cool constantly”

“For me maths is difficult however on the other hand I feel happier every time I do it because I then learn and understand something new which is very important to me.”

“I love maths because I know that DTA does it for our benefits and the teachers make us feel comfortable with maths.”

In summary:

1. Love maths. Show it.
2. Teach the processes explicitly.
3. Let them practise it lots, and in a context- and confusion- free way.
4. Interleave and revisit. Build up the confusion and context. NOW is the time to decide if there is time and merit in more ambitious activities (I am partial to a Barbie bungee, but not as a vehicle for teaching).

If you think this sounds awful, I am interested to hear from you. If you think this sounds awesome, please apply to work at our school. Bradford is great and so is working at our school.

Filed under Interesting or Fun

## Headaches Across the Curriculum: what’s the point in whole-school numeracy?

In September I saw this photo and hurried to send it to another teacher in our department so that I wouldn’t be alone in my wailing and gnashing of teeth.

Bless the teacher who made it; she is clearly working hard to accord with (what seems to be) a misguided whole-school policy on literacy and numeracy. Even a cursory search on Twitter/edu-blogs throws up a host of similar policies and initiatives, all of which have two shared features:

• They do a lot to raise the visibility of literacy and numeracy as ‘a thing we do in our school’
• They seem very unlikely to raise students’ standards of literacy or numeracy, but do seem to be eating into subject time (i.e. they may be actively harmful)

I find this baffling and assume that it is driven by the twin desires to conform to the Ofsted framework and to ensure that the maximum possible number of students reach benchmarks in English and Maths. Although I can’t claim to have any expertise in ‘what Ofsted wants’ (having experienced three inspections in four years, I don’t think Ofsted know either), the September 2014 framework seems to mostly be focused on outcomes rather than on processes. The parts that could be construed as referring to ‘whole-school literacy and numeracy’ are these:

• “Literacy includes the key skills of reading, writing and oral communication that enable pupils to access different areas of the curriculum. Inspectors will consider the impact of the teaching of literacy and the outcomes across the range of the school’s provision… Inspectors will consider the extent to which the school intervenes to provide support for improving pupils’ literacy, especially those pupils at risk of underachieving.”
• “Inspectors will consider…how well pupils apply their mathematical knowledge and skills in other subjects in the curriculum, where appropriate.” (emphasis my own)
• “In arriving at judgments about progress, inspectors will usually consider how well: … progress in literacy and mathematics are assessed by drawing on evidence from other subjects in the curriculum, where this is sensible.” (emphasis my own)

If I could have three wishes for secondary schools, with regards to whole-school literacy/ numeracy, they would be these:

• Schools should relentlessly focus on improving students’ literacy (in the generalised sense of literacy), but only focus on activities that will actually make students more likely to be literate.
• Teachers should not wedge numeracy or literacy into lessons. If anyone is doing so out of good intentions (e.g. hangovers from a previous school or policy), it should be discouraged.
• Every subject should be taking responsibility for giving their students access to the vocabulary and syntax specific to that academic domain.

I won’t explain these in turn, as they are syntheses of several different thoughts. However, I hope that clarifying those thoughts will make the above seem sensible (heady optimism).

Does literacy matter?

Yes. Emphatically yes. Low literacy is linked to reduced life chances, in terms of social and economic (*shiver*) participation. High literacy lets you put more in your head and share what’s already in there. More grandly, it’s been described as being a right that allows people to realise their other rights (Amartya Sen: the gift that never stops giving) and more starkly, consistently strong correlation is found between low literacy and the experience of poverty (Clarke and Dugdale, 2008). Ensuring all students reach a minimum standard in literacy seems a fantastically worthy goal.

My working definition of literacy (i.e. I have made it up) is:

• Being able to read at the level expected of a ‘normal’ adult
• Having an adequate general knowledge that you can read non-specialist text and take meaning from it
• Being able to communicate clearly in an appropriate register (both in writing and in speech)
• Being able to take intended meaning from non-specialist speech (and reflect the register, if needed)
• Being able to learn new, non-technical words without needing expert instruction (e.g. a dictionary and a context should be enough)

Does numeracy matter?

Yes, and moreso than would be expected. Low numeracy is linked to narrowed life chances, but mostly in terms of outcomes relating to physical and financial health (Rowlands, 2009). Innumeracy increases vulnerability, from everyday things like pay, taxes, utilities, etc, to accessing the job market (about 26% of skills shortage vacancies result from a lack of numeracy skills, according to UKCES in 2014) to the ease with which you can be exploited or manipulated. For example, someone with low numeracy might not appreciate how significant an APR of 5.8%….or 5853%…actually is, or might find it hard to contextualise the annual spend on unemployment benefit (£4.91bn in 2011-12) in terms of overall welfare spending (£159bn in 2011-12). More positively, high numeracy facilitates access to mathematical fluency (which opens up a host of opportunities in terms of social and economic participation and general utility*).

My own definition of numeracy is different to what tends to be used, and is the minimum that I think an adult needs:

• Proportional reasoning (simplistic example: having a recipe for 4 people, needing to feed 10 people, and being able to decide what to buy more of if you already have some of the ingredients).
• Adequate mental and written calculation at the level expected of a ‘normal’ adult (e.g. knowing there must be a mistake if 6 people had a main at £12.50 and the bill comes to £50).
• Statistical literacy: being able to ask meaningful questions when presented with a statistic. For example, MigrationWatch report that “94% of Britons think that Britain is ‘full up’.” Questions that immediately spring to mind are: Who did you ask? How many people did you ask? What was the actual question? What was the context when you asked them? Similarly, being able to consider a statistic in its own right without immediately rushing to confirm existing biases. A grim example of the latter would be the Pope’s estimate that 2% of clergy are paedophiles; it would lead most of us to quickly conclude there is a horrifying and exceptional problem in the Church…unless we ask about the larger picture).

Are they equally important? Are they whole-school responsibilities, transcending all subjects?

They are both very important as outcomes. Literacy has value as a means and as an end (i.e. it is inherently valuable). Numeracy has value as a means – it facilitates access to things that are valuable. They don’t need equal distribution of input.

Should they be responsibilities/priorities for all adults in education?

Yes, but the extent of the responsibility differs depending on role and subject. Some are more responsible for attainment in literacy and numeracy than others. For example, it seems sensible to have a literacy coordinator who oversees intervention programmes for children who are reading at a level below their chronological age, trains staff, etc. That person has a lot of responsibility and accountability. It doesn’t make sense for an MFL teacher to be accountable for students’ grasp of when to use the median as a measure of averages.

Tentatively, I think these are the responsibilities for all adults in education (those with a ◊ may even be applicable to those who aren’t in a teaching role) as they all feed towards an ethos of prizing the status of being ‘a literate and numerate person’ without leading to a change in day-to-day workload:

1. Be literate and numerate (!!!) and take positive steps to become so if you’re not◊
2. Whilst not discouraging/demotivating students, be diligent and relentless in correcting errors in numeracy/literacy, including when outside of a classroom setting◊
3. Be able to give a technically sound explanation/correction when a student makes an error. Schools should, possibly, consider having a consistent approach in these explanations/corrections.(◊?)
4. Make conscious decisions about choosing an appropriate register when speaking to students (e.g. a whole-school decision to use Standard English**, which is rationalised to students) ◊
5. Show enthusiasm for, and pride in, being literate and numerate. Never boast of your incompetence when it comes to any aspect of literacy/numeracy. ◊
6. Be a vocal role model for aspects of numeracy and literacy where you plan to improve your own knowledge. This is a valuable opportunity to meaningfully model what a growth mindset is; wanting to improve at something and allowing yourself to be seen to strive, even if success isn’t certain. ◊
7. Within reason, and where possible, ensure any text or speech used in lessons is mindful of the students’ reading ages whilst being aspirational (i.e. expose students to speech and writing which is just out of reach without alienating them).

Some of these are very challenging and, I suspect, intimidating for some adults involved in education. I’m not always confident explaining to students why a phrase is incorrect (e.g. there’s a subtlety in explaining ‘I ran fastly’ is incorrect but ‘I ran quickly’ is not). Most people don’t speak Standard English as a matter of course – I had to learn to speak it as an adult since my Dublin dialect can alienate English people – and would need a lot of feedback to notice their deviations. This is not to say that there is anything wrong with other dialects – I love the special syntax and vocabulary of Barnsley and the surrounding villages (where else would someone exclaim “Go f___ thee self” to a police officer?) – or to deny that many forms of non-Standard English have their own grammar (“We was walking…” is a consistently conjugation in West Yorkshire and there are strict rules governing use of the copula  in AAVE (‘Black English’), such as “She been studying…”).

This list does suggest a different role for those who are championing literacy and numeracy in the school, and one that is more sensitive. Helping adults to feel confident with literacy and numeracy can be a more daunting task than for children as the stakes can feel higher and there is more risk of people being made to feel inadequate of unprofessional.

What should they look like in different subjects?

Every subject, every day:

• Teachers speak and write English with high levels of technical accuracy.
• Aspirational language is used in writing and in speech.
• Students are expected to write and speak with high levels of technical accuracy. All teachers correct all errors, and insist on mistakes being immediately followed by the correct use (e.g. if a student says “The digits is…” they are expected to repeat the sentence using “The digits are…”
• Teachers give access to – and insist upon the use of – their subjects’ specialist vocabulary. Such vocabulary has many roles: it aids concise and accurate communication; it allows us to compact complex ideas into manageable and mutually understood words and phrases; it acts as a shibboleth to feel (and show) that you are part of an academic community; it is interesting and beautiful. Many of the hallmarks of an elite education are, oddly, small things: knowing that the plural of maximum is maxima, or using the phrase bildungsroman in a sentence with the same ease as ‘coming-of-age-novel’. I can only dream of offering an elite education to my students, but I can at least try to shield them from feeling that they are academically inadequate because I haven’t given them access to the specialist language of my subject.
• Teachers use numerical notation with high levels of technical accuracy. This is rarely relevant, but highly important when it does come up. A typical example would be to use the equals sign correctly, avoiding such clangers as 4×3=12+10=22 (because 4×3 doesn’t equal 22, so the equals sign can’t be used across one line).

Intelligent communication across departments

Consistency in explanations of literacy and numeracy basics is important. This can be led by the English and Maths departments, but doesn’t have to be. Examples would include ensuring that when Maths and Science teachers look at scatter diagrams, they are modelling the same steps for undertaking the process and have agreed on the core features that they expect students to use. Beyond that, I don’t see much need for collaboration; the reasons for drawing a scatter graph are quite different in those subjects (in science, it’s a means to an end – to analyse some intrinsically interesting data; in maths, it is the end – to analyse how the graph reveals underlying patterns in a jumble of data pairings).

What should it definitely NOT look like in different subjects?

• Activities that you wouldn’t have done if there weren’t whole-school policies on literacy and numeracy. I’ve seen such horrors as English teachers asking students to multiply the numbers in that day’s date as a way of showing they have incorporated numeracy into the lesson.
• Allocating time to something that is ‘literacy’ or ‘numeracy’ if you would have better used that time to further the aims of your subject. For example, asking students to make a pie chart of the distribution of rock-types in an environment when – in reality – no geographer would draw a pie chart by hand and the activity (which will take 10-20 minutes) side-lines what would have otherwise been a very swift examination of those facts.
• The justification of literacy or numeracy in terms of specific career paths. This is a wholly extrinsic motivator (i.e. a de-motivator in the long run), fails to account for the myopic nature of children/humans (they find it hard to stay motivated by end-of-term exams, as even those feel too far away), can backfire if a child is certain that it isn’t a career path that interests them, and perpetuates an ethos that education is only valuable insofar as it makes you economically valuable (boo hiss!). Just tell them that being literate and numerate is the minimum we expect of all adults. Tell them that being literate and numerate supports them to be successful in the world and to pursue their aims once they are more certain about what they want to do.
• Pretending that things that are really maths or English are literacy or numeracy (and thus taking time from other subjects without acknowledging that this is happening). For example, our students enjoy Times Tables Rock Stars and rolling numbers; it amazes me that Ofsted thought this counted as ‘numeracy across the school.’ Other than the positivity of adults who aren’t maths teachers, it wasn’t ‘across the school’ in any sense other than that it was happening in the hall instead of in classrooms. Conversely, there are lots of sensible whole-school literacy activities, such as weekly spellings on which all students are tested (having had a few days to learn them).
• Doing tokenistic activities in form time. If you want the students to do maths or English in form time, you should just make form shorter and give more time to maths or English. Those lessons are taught by subject specialists and – generally – to more coherent groupings of students. I have rarely seen a form-time literacy/numeracy activity that would actually make students more literate/numerate – it is usually too hard for some, too easy for others, and just right for a small number but inaccessible because the form tutor lacks the knowledge or confidence to deliver it. I would make an exception for the following:
• Well-run DEAR sessions (Drop Everything And Read). These are automatically differentiated and appropriate if (and only if) the students are reading books suitable to their reading age and that challenge their reading horizons. DEAR can be very effective if the supervising teachers are trained in running it well (e.g. reading with students, listening to students reading to them and giving feedback, challenging students to select more aspirational books).
• Interventions that have strong evidence bases (e.g. Lexia, corrective reading programmes, inference training, etc) where there are consistently high expectations around behaviour and effort.

Writing across the curriculum: scrap acronyms?

This is an area where I am quite a bit out of my depth as my expertise ends at having done an essay-based subject for my degree. I am more than happy to be corrected on this assertion:

Stop using acronyms to structure writing.

I get that ‘learning to write an essay’ or ‘learning to write a report’ are important skills to develop across a range of subjects. I’m less convinced that many of the literacy acronyms are actually working towards this aim. For example, a good history essay will be driven primarily by strong command of the events in question, subtle analysis of arguments and causes, a thoughtful choice of specific facts to illustrate and develop different points, and a coherent flow of those points. Such an essay can be thrilling and informative whilst being written in a dry or terse style; I don’t think VCOP would have a useful role to play. Conversely, if I lacked a sound recall of those elements, I don’t think that PEE would get me much closer to writing something worthy. It would be the same confused ideas, but in a more predictable format. Acronyms to help students recall the critical facts and arguments seem sensible, as do – possibly – a checklist along the lines of ‘As I move to a new point, is it clear what the point actually is? Have I substantiated each point? When I distil each paragraph to a single sentence, does the order of ideas make sense? Have I checked for any unintended repetition of vocabulary?’ I expect that many humanities and English teachers are snorting with derision as they read these; I am very much an observer on the side when it comes to teaching extended writing. I’d love to hear alternative viewpoints on this.

—-

* For me, the main utility measure from being mathematically educated is the pleasure of knowing more maths. This morning I finally – TEN YEARS LATER ARGH – was able to make my own proof for ‘disappearing’ the constant when differentiating. I still feel a little giddy from the sheer joy of it and expect it will carry me through to 2015.

** David Foster Wallace – my go-to guy for saying things in ways I can only dream of – wrote on the importance of being able to speak and write in Standard English. I recommend it heartily.

Filed under Literacy, Numeracy

## Dumb is in the Past: Times Tables Coaches

This is a post for anyone who is running Times Tables Rock Stars in their school and is thinking about ways to support the students to achieve the target of being able to recall any times tables fact in under 3 seconds.

To support the main body of students (i.e. those where the initial baseline showed that they know their tables in – on average – under 6 seconds a question), we use a subscription to www.ttrockstars.com, TTRS itself (the paper-based version, with all the attendant hype), rolling numbers (videos to follow of our own students – we practise as a whole-year group three times a week), a support booklet to offer advice to parents who wanted to help at home, practice for homework on Sumdog and a calculation-focused SOW for the first third of Year 7.

However, a problem we had with last year’s first attempt at TTRS was that the very weakest students didn’t improve enough to allow them to access maths lessons with the speed and accuracy that they need. Our main strategy to support them – that is, the 20 students who showed up on the baseline as having the slowest times – is TTRS coaches.

TTRS coaches are Y8 and Y9 students who are assigned to 1-3 Y7 students and meet with them once a week to teach/encourage/lead games/praise/set targets and generally act as a positive role model. Pleasingly, there is a good range in the coaches’ mathematical backgrounds – many are students who started Y7 with very low confidence or who were very weak at their tables a year ago. In their applications, a commonly cited reason for applying was either to help other students see that they, too, could improve or to help themselves to maintain the gains they’d made last year. The only frustration is that the coaches are mostly girls, despite being a school that has a high proportion of boys, so we will have to think about how we market it next year.

The coaches had training for 3 weeks after school, where we looked at questions and scenarios such as:

– What does it mean to be ‘bad’ or ‘good’ at your tables?

– Why is it important to be fast and accurate with times (and division) tables?

– Why might a student arrive in Y7 and be very slow or inaccurate with their tables?

– How might students feel when they often make mistakes?

– What sort of praise is helpful (effort-focused) or unhelpful (praising intelligence)?

– What are realistic targets?

– How do you respond if they tell you they think they are stupid or are ‘no good’ at a table?

– Why might a student be very shy, or very unfocused?

– How do you respond if they are very shy, or very unfocused?

We also planned things such as programmes for different tables and checking progress, appropriate celebrations and rewards (e.g. a certificate for reaching a milestone, or having special stickers for students’ planners) and exciting games and activities. Importantly, we also picked colours for their TTRS Coach badges.

It has now been running for a week, and it has been one of the most delightful and painfully cute things I have ever seen.

1. A Y7 told his coach that he is ‘really dumb’ at the 9x tables.

Response from coach: *places his hand on the student’s shoulder* “Dumb is in the past. You can make yourself clever in the future.”

2. “It’s really stressful being a coach. You explain, they don’t get it, and then you don’t know what to do.” (bahahahahahahaha) (obviously we did then discuss strategies to support his student)

3. (weakest* student in Y7, who works one-to-one with his coach) “I love it. It’s so much fun. [Coach] and I are going to change it to an hour now because I’m learning so much.”

4. “I’ve designed a game. We roll a dice for a times table. If they don’t get it right in 4 seconds, you have to roll the Dice of Doom. These are the forfeits: 1-say the 3xtables and do a chicken dance; 2-say the 11xtables in a funny voice; 3-say the 10xtables whilst doing a disco dance; 4-say the 9xtables in under 10 seconds; 5-say the 5xtables backwards; 6-your partner chooses.”

5. “It’s so much fun being a coach. I can already see [student] is improving.”

6. “Miss, I’ve made a lesson plan for coaching with [student]. Does it look ok?” (It looked amazing – an A4 page of ideas and rationale. And highlighter. So much highlighter).

A few coaches have now had two sessions and are already very autonomous and confident in what they’re doing (with lots of them doing quite different things depending on their students’ needs).

Of course, this post couldn’t be complete without gratuitous photos:

I don’t know yet what difference it will make to the progress those Y7s make in their tables this year, but it’s wonderful to see how enthusiastically the Y8/9 students have been throwing themselves into it and how seriously they’ve taken the ‘role model’ aspect of it. If you have tried any strategies of your own to support the weakest students with their mental maths, I would love to hear about it.