The Gold at our Feet: Teacher-based evidence rather than evidence-based teaching.

I recently emerged from 15 years of teaching in a Montessori setting to step back into the mainstream education system. It felt as though I’d emerged from a long hibernation, one where I’d been sheltered from the wild weather of educational debates and fads that came and went. It’s not to say that we didn’t use new ideas, resources and content from the wider education world – we most definitely did. And outside influences – such as the rise of technology and social media use by students – certainly infiltrated the classroom, how could they not?

However, over those 15 years, I had a steadfast philosophy to guide me. It felt, at times, like a golden thread that I could reach out for when I wasn’t sure of the best way to deliver a lesson, or how to meet the needs of a particular student. A key part of that philosophy was agency – not just for me as teacher, but for my students as well. I had some freedom with adapting the way I taught a lesson, when I taught a lesson and even what lesson I decided to teach at a given time, according to the needs and interests of students. My students also had agency – there were still expectations about completing a reasonable amount of essential work, but they had some freedom as to when they did this and how much they wanted to extend themselves on particular topics.

Scratching my somewhat perplexed head as I now contemplate teaching outside of a non-traditional education system, what strikes me immediately is the lack of agency for both teachers and students. This lack of agency is intermeshed with an obsession regarding evidence. There’s evidence-based teaching strategies, evidence-based content, evidence-based wellbeing programs and just ‘evidence-based education’, which apparently has its own acronym – EBE. I wonder, could we soon see an evidence-based interactive whiteboard, or an evidence-based toilet?

Don’t get me wrong, evidence is important and evidence-based strategies such as explicit instruction have their place. High quality research, particularly from the field of cognitive science, can assist teachers and school leaders with deciding on or refining classroom and school practices. Consistent classroom practices and approaches to pedagogy can be a framework upon which to base your teaching, not unlike my ‘golden thread’ analogy. However, an over-reliance upon research evidence seems imprudent. The data itself may be drawn from schools, but it is then synthesised, interpreted and manufactured into conclusions from afar. It is simply not possible for this type of research to gather the minutiae of the classroom – the brief interactions, multitudes of conversations, sparks of engagement, slumps of malaise, ever-changing social dynamics, movement, lethargy, energy, moments of inspirational learning, defiance, compliance, periods of contagious enthusiasm, occasional moments of chaos – that all inform a teacher’s own evidence. The modern epidemic of over-valuing research evidence inevitably diminishes a precious commodity – a teacher’s own evidence.

Which brings me back to my golden thread and that groundbreaking scientist named Maria, who knew, more than one-hundred years ago, that the best educational researchers are teachers:

“…the teacher must learn, not to teach, but rather to observe. This fact not only constitutes a revolution in the form of the school, but is also, I believe, the beginning of a science of education, a positive science. All positive sciences spring from the observation of natural facts.”

-   Maria Montessori, 1913^[1]

People assume that Montessori’s ideas have little relevance to modern students or to mainstream classrooms and yet, this idea of teacher-as-scientist, could most certainly be applied to the modern classroom. Teachers could be supported – with time and training – to develop their own skills in observation, adaptation, innovation and creativity, rather than being told how they must teach. In doing so, their sense of agency and their work satisfaction could be enhanced. ‘Evidenced-based teaching strategies’ derived from research could continue to be used but applied according to the needs of learners and at the discretion of the teacher, who has formed conclusions about what approaches may best suit individual students.

Taking time to observe and reflect on how students are functioning within the classroom environment is integral to the Montessori approach because Maria Montessori knew that good science involves careful observations. When I did make the time to observe in my classroom – not as frequently as I would have liked – it was generally a fascinating experience that inevitably taught me more than reading a research article ever could. During one observation, I had to literally sit on my hands when a year 5 student got up and wandered over to the stationery area and began to fashion a paper plane. I resisted the urge to call out to him and instead picked up my pen and notebook: Amon is making a paper plane. I stayed in the seat. A grade 6 girl, Eve, rolled her eyes at Amon and pointed at him as she looked at me. I nodded and remained sitting. Amon adding drawings to the plane. WTF is he gonna do with it next? Mercifully, the rest of the class were getting on with their work and no one was really paying any attention to the aircraft construction. I kept writing: Sasha and Amy – arguing about whether moths are gross. Amon – going out into courtyard and the hallway!!!! Liam has followed. I stayed in the seat and watched through the large glass window as Amon launched his plane in a graceful arc down the hallway, then ran to collect it. He then strolled back into the class with his friend and smiled at me before scrunching the plane and tossing it into the paper recycling bin. Amon at his desk, taking out writing book, starting his persuasive draft? I drew a smiley face and sighed.

Some teachers might be horrified at the idea of letting a student make a paper plane and then waltz out of the classroom to fly it when they were meant to be doing work. Yes, it could set a precedent for a squadron of planes being launched everywhere and someone ending up with an eye injury, but here’s the thing – none of that happened. In fact, there were a whole lot of good things that transpired in those 5 minutes. Amon – who had dyslexia and often struggled to initiate written work – had followed the rules (no flying paper planes inside the classroom). He hadn’t deliberately tried to distract anyone else. He had been feeling restless and had self-regulated by making something with his hands and going outside. He had then sat down and completed a decent amount of work. He had (most likely unconsciously) applied knowledge he had of himself as a learner that I didn’t seem to have – he needed to make, to move and to use his hands in order to think. But there was more than this too – in not saying anything to stop Amon, I had shown that I trusted him. In those few minutes that I had sat, so much had happened.

We teachers are scientists, together we gather an astonishing amount of collective knowledge via billions of moments spent with young people. This knowledge is the golden evidence upon which we should primarily rely for creating lasting and transformational change in education. We know that such a change is needed, but we must remember the immense value of this gold.

^[1] Montessori, M. (1913). The Rome Lectures.