In search of the Teachable Moment: A study of teacher autonomy, judgement and intuition.

Abstract

Aspects of teaching, such as those relating to curriculum development and the protocols of

the teaching cycle (planning, delivery, assessment) receive much attention in literature and

are regularly the focus of evaluation. Somewhat neglected by comparison is the subject of

teacher action in the moment; the teachable moment (TM). Analysis of ‘delivery’ has

tended to focus on the organisation of learning: didactic or dialogic, whole-class or groups,

transmission or discovery for example, and is often closely linked with theoretical

perspectives on learning such as constructivism and social constructivism and general

principles of classroom management.

However, discussion of these approaches can easily overlook the detail of how teachers

operate from moment to moment and exercise their professional judgement and intuition

during the flow of classroom activity. Whatever the approach or strategy, teaching and

learning can be unpredictable. This study looks at the dynamic nature of teaching and

learning and how teachers negotiate solutions, guide learners and respond to uncertainty,

idiosyncrasies and contextual factors in everyday practice; Teachable Moment Behaviours

(TMBs). It examines factors, at classroom, institutional and societal levels, which influence

TMs and TMBs.

The study examines teacher action, firstly through the theoretical lenses of Structurism,

Agency and Power and later using Csikszentmihalyi’s concept of Flow and ideas about

professionalism, intuition and judgement. It draws on the experience of three current

primary school teachers as they reflect on their own professional practice, and analyses how

teacher autonomy, judgement and intuition, which guide much of classroom discourse, can

be easily undermined by the instruments of surveillance and scrutiny to which teachers are

routinely subjected. The conclusions acknowledge that much of the expertise of the teacher

lies in these skills, and makes recommendations about how teachers can preserve and

develop them.

1

Introduction

This study is concerned with how teachers behave whilst teaching. It examines Teachable

Moments (TMs), which for the purposes of the research are defined as unanticipated

instances which arise during a teaching and learning exchange which present opportunities

for improvised and intuitive response from the teacher. TMs lead to Teachable Moment

Behaviours (TMBs) which are defined as the behaviours (actions, words, decisions, U-turns,

organisation/reorganisation) which teachers call on in response to TMs. Whilst recognising

that learning is the result of an exchange involving teachers and pupils, the sole focus here is

on teachers and any reference to pupil behaviour is made in so much as it helps to describe

and analyse how teachers respond to it. The primary objectives here are to define and

categorise these behaviours (TMBs), to analyse them against the theoretical frameworks of

structure and agency, to gather data on teachers’ use of them in their everyday practice and

to analyse those teachers’ reflections on their own pedagogic approaches to TMs. The

analysis will examine the factors which influence how, when and why teachers behave in

these ways, and the conditions in which TMBs arise.

The project places teacher agency in the centre of attention and will explore how teachers

respond to the non-linear (Larson Freeman, 2003, cited in Van Lier, 2007) and unpredictable

nature of learning, using de Bot’s (2007) vision of the classroom as a dynamic system, in

which teachers and pupils are continually ‘adjusting, reckoning, evaluating, bargaining,

acting and changing.’ (Woods, 1979:2)

The rationale for a focus on this particular aspect of teachers’ professional practice is three-

fold. Firstly, improvisation, judgements in the moment and intuitive practice are

considerably neglected in literature on the skills of the teacher and on Initial Teacher

Education (ITE) programmes. This is not surprising as these particular skills are not

protocols to which a rubric can be easily attached and therefore describing, and perhaps

more importantly in the current educational climate, measuring them is problematic.

Without writing about or teaching about the dynamic nature of teaching and learning and

the skills which exist in the gaps between the protocols there is little hope of developing

practice in this area.

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Secondly, there has been a significant political drive in recent years towards personalised

learning in primary schools in England and Wales. Whilst this includes broader issues than

what teachers do in classrooms (personalised curriculum, personalised support,

personalised homework tasks etc.) personalising learning requires a knowledge of individual

children and their interests, motivations, aptitudes, attention spans, language capabilities

and social development, to name only a few. Whilst knowledge of these elements is to an

extent gained through assessment protocols and can be addressed via teachers’ planning

instruments, teachers will inevitably respond to such matters as they arise in the flow of

classroom activity and will therefore also require a repertoire of instinctive behaviours in

order to do this efficiently and effectively.

Finally, the current political conception of the teacher is as technician, having mediocre

understanding of theoretical perspectives and wider factors influencing their everyday

activity, but an expert proficiency with relevant tools and techniques. This is largely in

response to the standards agenda in which National Curriculum levels are seen as the

output of a factory style educational process. Successive governments appear to want

professionals well versed in protocols and technique. This is exemplified in the use of the

term Initial Teacher Training (ITT) rather than Initial Teacher Education (ITE) in recent

legislative material sent to Higher Education (HE) providers; that teachers are trained, not

educated.

This tendency towards a technicist view of teaching is not new however. Fears over falling

standards in core subjects and under performance on international league tables (Boyson,

1975; (see Brown, 1998; Slee & Weiner, 1998 and Gorard, 2001 for a response)) and lack of

social mobility have, amongst other factors, prompted a gradual increase in centralised

control over primary education in the last thirty years. The introduction of the National

Literacy and Numeracy Strategies in 1998 and 1999 respectively brought with it previously

unseen levels of government prescription (see Alexander, 2004; Barkham & Miller, 2008)

with stipulated curricula, and stipulated pedagogy. Statutory guidance bore closer

resemblance to ‘standard operating procedures’ than pedagogic principles. In the last ten

years the move away from prescription (Fisher, 2004) via curricula and National Strategies

has coincided with periodic changes to the Ofsted Inspection Framework and the pressure

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to pedagogic conformity now comes in the form of Ofsted grading criteria and the necessity

to meet pupil progress targets.

The coalition government have expressed a commitment to ‘sweep away the culture of

compliance’ (www.Independent.co.uk, 2010) enabling and promoting teachers’ professional

judgements, increasing teacher choice and flexibility and decreasing prescription. In January

2011 the government began a review of the primary National Curriculum which will be in

place by September 2014. In the most recent iteration of the Ofsted Inspection Framework

(Ofsted, 2012) four out of the ten criteria for judging the quality of teaching make reference

to teacher action during lessons and, whilst no specific reference is made to improvisation

or teachers using their instincts and intuition, all of the listed criteria could be interpreted as

implying professional judgement. This period of transition may prove to be an interesting

and fruitful time to gather data on and make recommendations concerning the pedagogic

practice and personas of primary school teachers.

In the discussion which follows I will be examining TMBs firstly through the sociological

frameworks of structure and agency, with specific reference to perspectives from Giddens,

Bourdieu and Foucault, and secondly through the lens of pedagogy. The former is a useful

theoretical tool for scrutinising how the profession at large, the political context and school

communities can influence teachers’ behaviour. The latter is a useful heading under which

to explore how interactions at classroom level may affect teachers’ capacity to improvise

and think on their feet.

4

Structure , agency and power: Sociological influences.

Structure, agency and power are important foundational principles upon which much study

of human social behaviour has been built. What follows is a brief exploration of these

principles in relation to pedagogy. An examination of TMs and TMBs is a study of teachers’

capacity (be it their ability or the extent to which they are permitted, by others or

themselves) to act according to their professional pedagogical instincts in a given moment.

The extent to which teachers are able to improvise in a given teaching and learning episode,

to choose a line of questioning, a physical demonstration or a timescale other than that

which was planned , or contrary to the modus operandi of the community, is partly

influenced by individual agency, the efficacy to make choices, decisions and judgements

about what they do.

At an institutional and societal level Structuralism can be a useful theoretical tool for

examining teachers’ capacity to improvise and exploit TMs in their practice; in particular,

the interaction between structure and agency. Early twentieth century sociologists such as

Durkheim (1933) and Simmel (1971:324) emphasised the dualism of structure and agency

and saw the struggle of the individual against the ‘sovereign powers of society’ as the

defining problem facing humanity. In the later twentieth century Giddens (1979; 1984;

1998) and Bourdieu (1977) amongst others, attempted to reconcile this apparent dichotomy

with theoretical frameworks which explore the relationship between the individual agent

and the collective more thoroughly.

Giddens interprets structures as expressions of what people do, and offers a succinct

definition of agency as ‘the capability to have done otherwise’ (1998:78). In the classroom

context, the opportunity, and therefore capacity, to do ‘otherwise’ may be governed by the

expectations of the head teacher, the practice of other colleagues or a shared sense within

the institution about what constitutes appropriate practice, all of which are likely to affect

professional instincts and decision making. Unlike Durkheim, who characterised society as

separate from its individual agents (1893; 1938) and portrayed structure as an opposing

force to agency, Giddens asserts that whilst structures govern our individual action

(sometimes inhibiting, sometimes encouraging), their relationship to agency is in fact more

complex than simple opposites. He attributes a dynamic nature to the relationship,

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suggesting that structure is in fact created as a consequence of the collective agency of

individuals (Giddens, 1979). This implies that factors governing individual behaviour in

society or in institutions are to a large extent the result of the body of individuals exercising

their capability to do ‘otherwise.’ (similar to Durkheim’s ‘Collective Consciousness’,

1938:xiv). Paradoxically, this collective otherwise-ness can also act as a constraint on

individual agency. In terms of school culture and classroom practice, one interpretation of

this is that expectations and institutional norms (structures) influencing teachers’

behaviours are not fixed and external, but constitute a consensus about how things should

be done, based on what all individuals in the community ‘do’. Structures exist and in some

contexts they can be quite rigid, but they have no physical form. They only have form in so

much as they are reproduced in what people do. This does not mean that structure is

‘plastic to the will of the indvidual’ (Giddens, 1998:80), but it implies that individual agents

contribute to its construction. On the question of power and teacher agency, Pignatelli

(1993:412) advocates teachers challenging prevailing structures, but also stresses the

importance of recognising ‘their own complicity’ in them. In fact, one could argue that the

former would not be possible without the latter.

In Bourdieu’s notion of ‘Habitus’ (1977) the agent internalises the relationships, beliefs and

values of the community and becomes inhabited by its expectations; an internalising of the

external. The gradual assimilation of the agent into the cultural norms of the community is

exemplified by his or her actions which in turn co-create and perpetuate those cultural

values and practices; an externalising of the internal. This, according to Bourdieu (1977:72)

is not an intentional or conscious assimilation, ‘..collectively orchestrated, without (…) a

conductor’ but one which occurs organically. In this hypothesis doing ‘otherwise’ appears

an even greater challenge to the agent. The struggle for individual agency could be viewed

as a struggle against enculturation; against the tendency to allow beliefs, values and actions

within an environment or community to take up residence within us. For Bourdieu though,

‘Habitus’ is not an uncomfortable or undesirable disposition. In fact, we could not function

within society without its effect. Understanding and awareness of our tendency towards

‘habitus’ however, is important for the individual agent. Calhoun(1995:304) interprets

‘Habitus’ as ‘the embodied sensibility that makes possible structured improvisation.’ In this

elaboration, the phenomena is characterised not as a straight-jacket which inhibits action,

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but as a framework through which it is facilitated. This is salient in an examination of

teacher action. Viewed in this way, the structures which are often seen by teachers as

constraints on creativity: centralised pedagogic and curricular strategies, surveillance,

excessive planning to name a few, could be reinterpreted as tools for autonomous action.

Giddens (1981:27) sees this interplay between freedom and constraint as constant and all

pervasive, and refers to it as the ‘dialectic of control’.

The key similarity between Giddens and Bourdieu here is the emphasis on agents as

collaborators in defining and developing structure, not simply as victims of it. Both

conceptualise structure as more than merely the background against which actions occur,

and both view agency as the freedom to recognise and respond to causal events in the

world. In this sense, according to Bourdieu, structures are not only objective, they can also

be subjective. As Grenfell and James (1998) point out, structures can take on

phenomenological characteristics as they are built by and understood as products of human

experience and activity. Translated into a classroom context, for the teacher this consists in

the capacity to notice events in the dynamic environment; questions or comments, degrees

of understanding among learners, and the ability to choose a causal response, viewing

learners as interactive partners and the classroom itself as a dynamic space in which agents

interact. This capacity depends in part on what the teacher contributes to the collective

values of the community.

If structure is created by the individual agents in a community, one could ask what it is that

inhibits agents (teachers) from exercising greater autonomy over their action within that

community, assuming that their intentions are always to serve the educational interests of

their learners? To answer this question it is necessary to define more clearly the origins and

form of structures which influence a teacher’s behaviour.

Ozga and Lawn (1981) point to the political and economic structures which have resulted in

the progressive deskilling of the profession. They argue that while teachers are prepared to

accept evaluation, scrutiny and appraisal as essentially worthwhile and for the greater good,

they are contributing to the very system which robs them of control over their labour.

There is an implied call to organisation and militancy here.

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Government solutions to the challenges of societal progress tend to favour centrally

designed and universally applied programmes and strategies. Often based on regional

research findings and generalisations about learning, these large scale prescriptions,

referred to by Eisner (1985) as scientific methods have been applied with increasing

frequency by successive governments since the arrival of the National Curriculum in 1989.

The difficulty for the teacher as agent is that repeated dispatching, revising and repackaging

of protocol from central government sends the message that innovation begins not in the

classroom, but in the corridors of Whitehall. As far back as 1981 Ozga and Lawn warned

about the ‘proletarianisation’ of the profession. The analogy to workers lacking ownership

of the means of production, with only their labour to sell is an interesting one. This power

relationship is contrary to Connelly’s (1972) conception of the teacher as ‘user-developer’,

who leads curriculum development from the classroom through reflective practice. Within

this climate of surveillance and rubric, performance management and grading criteria

argued Brighouse (1987:11, cited in Woods, 1990), the teachers who survive will be the

‘systems people’; those who can adhere to the syllabus and adhere to the script, exercise

their agency within the imposed structure.

Whilst it is easy to understand how teachers contribute to the structures in their immediate

environment, local structures you might say; often the most imposing and inhibiting

structures to everyday classroom practice are those of national policy. Centralised control

of education, whether exercised via government initiatives, publishing of performance data

or routine inspection, exemplifies Foucault’s hypothesis about coercive power; that it is at

its most potent when it is hidden. He illustrates this insight into the nature of power by

describing penal reforms from Renaissance to Classical Europe (1977). In the former,

punishments were brutal and public and designed to send unequivocal messages to the

population about the supreme power of the monarch. With the introduction of prisons in

19th century Britain the emphasis shifted towards the new, more humane notion of

rehabilitation. What in fact happened, according to Foucault (1977:135), is that public

mutilation and death was replaced by the production of ‘docile bodies’, automatons

reduced by the power of the state, for the purposes of the state. A current version of this

history can be seen in the way that governments promote control of curricula, setting of

teaching standards and surveillance of performance, as performing its public duty, and

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schools as ostensibly benevolent for complying with this agenda (or failing when

incompliant.) The modern meta-narrative (Peters, 2001) being that these practices will

bring people out of poverty, promote social mobility, spread prosperity and widen

opportunity. This can be seen as a small-scale outworking of Foucault’s ‘Governmentality’

(Foucault, 1991), the rationalities and technologies with which society is rendered

governable. Less emphasis however, is given to the by-products of this system, in which,

according to Hartley (1994:230), young people become resources and commodities to

grease the wheels of the capitalist project. He describes this as an ‘isomorphic structure (...)

whose purpose is the management of consent, and whose justification appeals to the

culture of consumption.’ This sort of power is strong, according to Foucault, precisely

because it solicits our:

‘…willingness to accept and internalise questionable limits on what we

can know about ourselves and how we might act, as a natural condition.’

(Pignatelli, 1993:412)

Schools, continues Pignatelli, can be hazardous places for those wishing to extend personal

and professional agency, as they:

‘..extend the self-limiting rule of normality and the marginalization-

rehabilitation of the deviant.’ (1993:420)

The implication here is that compliance can easily become firmly established as the Cultural

Capital (Bourdieu, 1986) amongst the staff in a community, and disagreement or non-

conformity frowned upon.

Ozga (2000:14) suggests that such deviancy in the teaching profession is ‘managed’ by

either promulgation of professional ideology, in which behaviour is regulated through

‘reasonable co-option’, or via direct regulation.

Whilst Giddens and Bourdieu devote their time to the question of what agents do in

exercising freedom and power, Foucault, in offering vivid portrayals of historical characters

and events as points of reference, is more preoccupied with prompting readers to consider

who they are. Self-knowledge seems particularly important for teachers wishing to identify

9

and manage what they invest in their surrounding professional structures. This could be

seen as a call to teacher rebelliousness, but agency, according to Murphy (1988:182), is

much more concerned with ‘persons assuming responsibility for truth’ than with

‘normlessness.’ (According to Foucault (1980), power always attaches itself to truth.) This

could in fact be seen as a call to research. By engaging in field studies, teachers confront,

and perhaps dilute the forces of disempowerment by shifting the locus of power towards

themselves as agents. To move from consumers, or indeed victims, of research, to

engineers of it. From ‘docile bodies’ to active agents.

The extent to which teachers can assume active control of their professional activity is

questionable however. In some school contexts the structures and technologies of control

are so unyielding that opportunities for decision making, creativity and flexibility (with

curriculum, timetable, approaches etc.) are minimal.

One prevalent feature linking the technologies of power (Foucault, 1991) (surveillance,

coercion, public accountability) in recent societal discourse is discomfort with uncertainty.

It is paradoxical in this postmodern age, in which Newtonian certainties have been replaced

by quantum uncertainties and unpredictability in the scientific field, in which existential

questions previously answered with certainty by the church are now open to interpretation,

in which objectivity has been all but replaced by subjectivity, that the need for certainty

exerts such a significant grip on societal structures in Western democracies. In education, as

in other domains, this is most clearly articulated through the increasing requirement to

state outcomes and products of learning before the process of teaching and learning has

begun. This could be seen as a considerable obstacle to teacher agency. When discussing

research methods later, I will elaborate on the challenges of using a postmodern approach

and qualitative methods and instruments to evaluate practice in a stubbornly modernist

system (education) and stubbornly modernist institutions (schools).

The discussion so far, whilst acknowledging the interdependence of structure and agency,

has nevertheless cast structure as the villain and agency as the hero. Or, put another way,

structure as the oppressor and agency as the oppressed. In the classroom context this is

something of an Orwellian over-simplification (planning and preparation bad, improvisation

good) and this is certainly not my intention. The interplay between protocols teachers must

10

follow and the intuitions and the hunches they may act upon is an interesting one. The two

are certainly not mutually exclusive, and represent a microcosm of the relationship between

structure and agency. Planning does to an extent facilitate improvisation because it can

provide vital space for professional reflection and is therefore linked inextricably to action

and evaluation.

However, as Hoyle and John (1995) point out, practitioner autonomy is at the heart of

professionalism. In their view, the very term professional assumes dealing with uncertainty

and exercising judgement, and suggest that judgement is in fact ‘more important than

routine’ in professional practice. They go on:

‘..it is essential to effective practice that they (professionals) should be

sufficiently free from bureaucratic and political constraints to act on

judgements made in the best interests (as they see them) of the clients.’

(1995:77).

Professional autonomy is by its very nature limited autonomy however. As well as asserting

agency, professionalism asserts structure and limitations on freedom to act, professionalism

is structure. Here we find an interesting counterpoint. Professional status is defined

simultaneously by both autonomy and boundaries, by agency and structure; professionals

have a licence, not just licence Hoyle and John (1995). A critical question here therefore is

how these two forces can be balanced in the best interests of pupils. Figures 1 and 2 below

present possible relationships between structure and agency which may help to answer this

question.

Fig.1 (my model)

In this model structure and agency are seen on the same continuum. A move towards one

is a move away from the other; as one increases the other decreases proportionally. In this

11

Structure Agency

conception of their relationship, agency becomes a function of the degree of structure

present in a system (a school for example). An increase in structure increasingly limits

freedom, autonomy and possibly creativity and spontaneity. Increased agency in this view is

an indication of decreased structure; however structure is the causal mechanism here, not

agency.

A D

B C

Fig.2 (my model)

The relationship presented in Fig.2 is significantly different from that of Fig.1. In this

conception there is no causal correlation between the two forces and thus no inverse

proportionality. An increase in one does not necessitate a decrease in the other, and vice

versa. This model does not assume that all professionals want high levels of autonomy and

presents agency as residing with individuals, largely independent of structure, dependent on

the degree to which the individual chooses to exercise their agency; on a measure of their

intention to act autonomously. This Kantian view of autonomy posits that as creatures of

will, human beings are able to act ‘for the sake of principles we have set for ourselves.’

(Lindley, 1986:16) Bandura (1977), Elder (1995), Flammer (1997) and others interested in

efficacy have emphasised this internal process of ‘acting individual’ (Evans, 2008) in relation

to the external environment.

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Structure

Agency

Therefore, a professional at position A with high agent intentionality operating in a system

low on structure may experience high levels of professional satisfaction. A professional at

position B with low agent intentionality operating in a similar system may experience some

professional anxiety. A professional at position C with low agent intentionality operating in

a system high in structure may enjoy similar levels of professional satisfaction as their

colleague at position A, but for different reasons and finally, a professional at position D,

with high levels of intentionality operating in a highly structured system may also

experience professional anxiety. Factors which may influence degrees of teacher agent

intentionality in the classroom include personality, experience, characteristics of the pupils,

value placed on this characteristic of professionalism by the school and perhaps teacher

education. Some of these factors will be analysed in relation to the participants of this

research, in the Insights and Analysis section.

Hoyle and John (1995:81) reflect on the means by which autonomy is either afforded to or

removed from teachers and imply that it is rarely explicit.

‘Given the inescapable fact of a strong link between educational achievements

and occupation in industrialised society, the content goals of education (...)

have an appeal to consumers. ...this is currently taken as the legitimating of

a more prescriptive approach to educational goals...the teacher’s autonomy

is thereby reduced.’

This interpretation of how teacher autonomy decreases places emphasis on how

educational goals are defined. The more clearly defined and linked to ‘credentials’, the less

autonomy teachers enjoy. The less defined the goals and the more emphasis is placed on

the processes of education, the greater the teacher autonomy. This continuum can be

mapped onto Fig.1 as shown in Fig.3

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Fig.3 (my model)

The more defined the goals, the more focussed the accountability. The less defined the

goals, the more room there is for teacher interpretation. However, as iterated more than

once already, this does not mean that structure is the enemy of agency, or accountability

the enemy of interpretation. On the contrary, these elements are engaged in a necessary

dance. An important question here is not which is right, or which should exist, but how can

they relate to one another most productively? There are parallels here with Camus’

conclusion about the complex relationship between freedom and justice in his novel The

Rebel:

‘Absolute freedom mocks at justice. Absolute justice denies freedom.

To be fruitful, the two ideas must find their limits in each other.’

(Camus, 1951:291)

The interdependence expressed here can also be applied to structure and agency, that

absolute structure neutralises individual agency and absolute agency renders structures

impotent and that neither case is fruitful. In the case of teachers and teaching, we see this

interplay in the relationship between curriculum prescription and pedagogical flexibility; the

fruit in this case might be job satisfaction for the teacher and learning for the pupil. Evans

(2008:93) characterises this relationship through the concept of ‘bounded agency’, that is,

autonomy conceived as socially situated, ‘influenced by but not determined by

environments’. The similarities here with Giddens and Bourdieu are clear, both emphasise

the relationship of the individual agent to their surrounding structures and see agents as

contributing to social reproduction. This forms part of a wider sociological discussion (see

Beck, 1992; Giddens, 1998; Furlong & Cartmel, 1997 and Engel & Strausser, 1998) about the

nature of gradual individualisation in industrialised societies. Bringing the discussion into

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Structure Agency

Emphasis on defined goals

Emphasis on educational processes

the primary school, Pollard (2008:91) explores how this ‘dialectical relationship’ between

society and individuals brings about a ‘constant interplay between social forces and

individual actions.’ The next chapter will examine exactly how this interplay can influence

the day to day professional practices of teachers.

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Improvisation, responsiveness and professional judgement: Teacher action at classroom

level.

According to Clark and Yinger (1987:98), teachers are constantly engaged in creative

processes because of the unpredictable, uncertain and complex nature of the classroom.

They note that every teaching and learning situation is the result of ‘uniquely configured

events’ and requires unique solutions. Tripp (1993:18) conceptualises teaching in terms of

problem solving and describes the teacher’s task as to ‘problematise’ the critical incidents of

everyday practice. Noticing and capitalising on TMs requires a particular set of tools, a

certain understanding of and disposition towards learners and the learning process. Woods

(1990:33) highlights the importance of teachers ‘cultural attunement’ to their pupils and

suggests that alertness to and understanding of each situation in the classroom is a pre-

requisite to fruitful exchanges. This is similar to Eisner’s (1985) idea that connoisseurship in

teaching lies in the art of perception and appreciation. Woods however, emphasises the

unpredictable nature of classroom exchanges and notes that:

‘A brilliant and original programme of work cultivated over a weekend

might fall on stony ground on Monday morning, forcing a fall-back on

to routines.’ (Woods 1990:33)

This unpredictability stems from the many variables and dynamics which exist in everyday

classroom activity; factors ranging from the children, their experiences, personalities and

emotional states and the teacher’s preferences, confidence and approach, to the physical

environment and structure of the timetable. Such factors contribute to what Eisner

(1985:104) describes as the ‘inordinately complicated affair’ that is teaching. He cites

examples such as pupils’ expressions, posture and pace as factors to be interpreted and

made use of by the teacher, and wonders what the teacher is communicating to the pupils

via their the tone, use of praise and the pace of the lesson. How teachers manage and

capitalise on uncertainty is of crucial importance to this study. Woods (1990) posits that

breakthroughs in learning are sometimes the result of deliberate experimentation in which

the teacher plans for uncertainty. In such situations the interactions and activities may

involve the teacher and/or the pupils trying various methods, demonstrations, approaches,

settings or groupings. On other occasions, breakthroughs may be the result of sudden or

16

gradual realisations during classroom discourse; unplanned for and unanticipated.

Whatever the means by which the breakthrough occurs, the task of the teacher remains the

same, to seize it and capitalise on it.

Herbert (2010:70) highlights the similarities between the teacher and the artist, referring to

Schleiermacher’s notion that pedagogy is ‘art in practice’. Two particular features of this

comparison should be emphasised. Firstly, that learning emerges out of interaction and

secondly, that the course the learning takes is the result of negotiation and development of

an initial framework, which the teacher ‘bears in mind’.

Taking these in turn, the very nature of interaction presupposes that both parties (in this

case the teacher and the pupils) contribute to whatever is being created. According to the

Oxford English Dictionary (1988:283) to interact is ‘to act on each other’. The traditional

model of the teacher-pupil relationship in which the pupil is the passive recipient of

whatever the teacher transmits can barely be considered an interaction in this sense

because of the unidirectional flow of influence. In this interpretation of teaching and

learning the teacher influences the action, utterances and outputs of the learner, but not

vice versa. Schleiermacher’s assertion, inspired in part by Schiller, suggests that both parties

influence and respond to one another (Winkler and Brachmann, Eds., 2000), and that the

explanations, demonstrations, and facilitation of activity are, to a degree, subject to those

actions and utterances. In this view, a proportion of the planning for learning must take

place in the moment, during the lesson. That is not to underestimate the importance of

pre-planning, which in itself can be a response to learners’ previous utterances and

knowledge of their dispositions, however, in view of the unpredictability of children’s

questions and comments (Pollard, 2008) and the numerous factors determining theirs and

teachers’ behaviour, it could be argued that some of the most important decisions affecting

learning will take place during lessons, not necessarily before them.

This leads to the second point; planning provides a framework, a rough sketch or map from

which learning episodes develop. A teacher will know the desired destination and possible

directions for the lesson, but the route can be negotiated based partly on what happens in

the lesson itself. The ubiquitous and hermeneutic view of education espoused by

Schleiermacher (Winkler and Brachmann, Eds., 2000), Goethe (Oberski & McNally, 2007),

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Pestalozzi (Gutek, 1987) and other European polymaths of the post-enlightenment era, in

which learning is viewed as non-linear, negotiated and sometimes unpredictable is of

interest here because they share a common conception of the teaching and learning

process. Since the goal of education, according to these pedagogues, is to provide a radical

response to the individual, teaching is seen as a process of interpretation, in which the

teacher acts, and then finds in the experienced results of that action (the learners’

responses) clues as to what should follow, a sort of trial and error approach. The key point

here is that until the initial action has been carried out, be it questioning, an activity,

challenge or classroom discourse, the next set of teacher actions remain unknown. The

implication here, elaborated upon by Herbert (2010) and Atkinson & Claxton (2000) is that

certain subtleties of individual pupils’ (and collective) needs emerge during lessons, and are

not apparent before them. Classroom interaction itself uncovers new perspectives on

learners’ dispositions, attitudes and understandings as they grapple with new concepts,

which are of use to the teacher in designing next steps and approaches. A key challenge for

teachers in responding in these moments is dealing with uncertainty.

Dreyfus’ (1981) ‘novice to expert’ rubric, Csikszentmihalyi’s (2008, 1990, 1997) notion of

‘Flow’ and Atkinson & Claxton’s (2000) examination of intuitive practice, provide an

interesting framework within which to further explore TMs and TMBs. According to

Dreyfus, the key characteristics of a novice are reliance on taught rules and plans

(Structure), limited situational awareness and a lack of discretionary judgement. In the

classroom this might translate as a high dependency on guidance from initial education, in-

service training and pre-prepared plans; emphasis on one’s own performance and a limited

overview of children’s performance or classroom dynamics, and few, if any, judgements

made which deviate far from the lesson plan. The characteristics of the expert are the

direct opposites, little or no reliance on structures, comprehensive situational perception

and instinctive decision making. Dreyfus’ implication here is that development from novice

to expert takes place over time and tracks alongside experience and, whilst he attaches no

timeline to this transition, following it to its logical conclusion one might assume that

everyday classroom practice will only show characteristics of expertise after several years of

teaching. My own experience of teaching and of observing student teachers’ practice leads

me to question the validity of this assumption and raises a question about what other

18

factors might influence the development of expertise. The relationship between experience

and expertise will be explore further in later sections.

Csikszentmihalyi describes ‘Flow’ as a state of optimal performance in which ‘consciousness

is harmoniously ordered’ (2008:6) and intrinsic motivation high. Flow is a psychological

state of full absorption in which individuals perform tasks and strive to meet goals

effortlessly, and when creativity thinking peaks. There are similarities here with Dreyfus’

suggestions about expertise and one could posit that Flow might be a characteristic of the

expert, most notably the implication that optimal performance is characterised by

spontaneous, unanalysed thought and action. Csikszentmihalyi’s own analysis of what he

calls the Flow Channel indicates that Flow is not a constant state of mind and action,

individuals move in and out of the Channel as their own levels of skill and challenge,

boredom and anxiety shift. High levels of challenge and low levels of skill produce anxiety,

high levels of skill and low levels of challenge bring about boredom, both of which position

the protagonist outside the Flow Channel. It seems that experiencing Flow in action is

dependent on an individual’s relationship to the task at hand, their level of proficiency and

how well they are matched to the particular challenge. Here we find another correlation

with Dreyfus, how good one is at a particular activity bears strongly on the likelihood that

one will perform fluently and instinctively. There is also however, an important difference in

the way these two notions are conceptualised. According to Csikszentmihalyi Flow can be

experienced by novices as much as by experts. It is not a goal in itself, but rather a

psychological state one experiences when levels of skill and challenge are balanced, novices

are as likely to experience this in the early stages of development and experts are after

years of practice. In contrast, the characteristics of expertise are presented by Dreyfus as

unobtainable to novices. The language used to describe the two concepts also reveals a key

difference in the two conceptions. Expertise is explained in terms of what protagonists ‘do’,

whereas Flow is explained as something protagonists experience.

It is the accessibility of Flow to novices that makes it interesting as a tool for analysing

improvisation and responsiveness in teaching because it suggests that TMBs are perhaps as

likely to be seen in the everyday practice of inexperienced teachers as they are in that of

experienced ones. The difficulty though is that whereas in Csikszentmihalyi’s model the

novice takes on challenges proportionate to their experience, in teaching, the demands

19

made on newly qualified teachers are not dissimilar to those made on their more

experienced colleagues. The question remains therefore (and will be addressed later in my

description of the teacher participants and analysis of findings) whether the features of

professional practice associated with TMs and expertise can be expected or encouraged in

novice teachers.

A third lens through which TMBs can be analysed is that of intuition. Atkinson and Claxton

(2000) identify six varieties of (‘non-mystical’) intuition: Expertise, Learning, Judgement,

Sensitivity, Creativity and Problem-solving and Rumination. They cite Bastick (1982) who

identifies key features common to all varieties of intuition: a resistance to abstract,

analytical or logical thought, a tendency to see situations holistically, achieving synthesis

without the need to break the experience into its constituent parts first and an ability to

draw on experience in flexible and centripetal ways. In his analysis of intuition as

‘expertise’ Claxton (2000:34) offers the following description of professional practice:

‘The expert teacher may go through a whole lesson, adjusting or even

abandoning their actions and intentions as they go, without being conscious

of much reasoning, and without being able to say why or how they made the

‘decisions’ they did, or to what clues they were responding.’

This has clear parallels with how Dreyfus characterises expertise and Csikszentmihalyi’s

model of Flow. There is a necessary absence of premeditation and self-consciousness about

the action. On this, Claxton goes on to suggest that:

‘..becoming too aware of and reflective about one’s action, in the

heat of the moment, may result in a loss of fluency and even, in

extremes of self-consciousness, in paralysis.’

The suggestion is that feeling one’s way, holding on loosely to lesson plans and teaching

without knowing outcomes in advance can facilitate fluency and responsiveness. This

appears to be an endorsement of the value of ‘not always knowing what one is doing.’

Atkinson and Claxton (2000).

20

The teachers participating in this research used the term creative when describing the

attributes teachers need in order to notice and capitalise on TMs. Creativity is a somewhat

panoptic concept (Sternberg, 1999) which has been particularly difficult to characterise in

research (Boden, 1990) because of its broad scope. When humans create, they call upon a

wide constellation of skills, dispositions and abilities and these are influenced by an equally

wide range of environmental and contextual factors. Creativity is much bigger than TMBs

and not all TMBs might necessarily be described as creative, however there are certain skills

and dispositions within that constellation upon which teachers might call in a TM.

Improvisation, for example, is not creativity itself but some creative expression results

directly from it. Taking risks is not in itself creative, but creative people are often risk takers.

Intuition and Csikszentmihalyi’s Flow concept are not creativity, yet both are routinely

associated with creative endeavour (Atkinson and Claxton, 2000; Csikszentmihalyi’s, 2008,

1990, 1997; Henessey and Amabile, 1988). In the insights and analysis section I will take a

closer look at these skills and dispositions, the conditions in which they may arise and

discuss how creativity relates to TMs and TMBs.

21

Methodology

The Teachers:

The three participants in this research project are qualified, practising primary school

teachers of varying lengths of service. The following table shows profile information for

each teacher which is relevant to the analysis which follows.

Gender Years

experienc

e

Management

responsibilities

Current

year

group/

s

Number

in class

Age range

experienc

e

Other teaching

experience

Amy female 3 none Year 3 30 Year 2 Civil Servant.

Animal

demonstrator

at a zoo.

Robert male 15 Deputy Head Mixed

class

yrs 4,5

& 6

22 Years 3-6 1 year teaching

grade 6 (11-12

yr olds) in

Canada

Rufus Male 23 years None

currently, but

previously Key

Stage 2 leader.

Year 5 30 Years 3-6 1 year teaching

grade 3 (7-8

year olds) in

Australia

In the interest of promoting individual agency through this process each teacher was asked

to choose a pseudonym (as above) and write their own brief introduction, including

whatever information they chose about themselves.

Rufus: has been teaching for twenty three years. He began his career in inner London,

working as firstly a class teacher and then a support teacher for children with English as an

additional language before returning to class teaching. He then taught in Australia for a year

as part of an exchange programme. In 2000 he became a Key Stage Two leader in an inner

22

city school in Bristol. For the past five years he has returned once again to class teaching

while occasionally supplementing his income by training volunteers from local businesses

who come into school to support children in their maths.

Robert: has been a primary school teacher for fifteen years and is currently deputy head of

a small rural school on the outskirts of Bristol. He has taught previously in the suburbs of

Bristol and rural east Essex. In his role as deputy head he mentors and offers pastoral

support to other teachers as well as being a critical friend to the head teacher. He is

passionate about children, their learning and all round development. He enjoys getting

children to think critically and creatively. He is also the ICT co-ordinator at his current

school.

Amy is in her fourth year of primary teaching during which she has taught at the same

school in a large suburban area in north Bristol. She has taught year two throughout her

career so far. Amy's additional responsibilities are music subject leader which she has held

for three years. Amy has previously worked in the civil service and as a volunteer animal

demonstrator in a zoo at weekends.

Professional context:

All three teachers, whilst working in different schools are subject to certain common

contextual factors. Each has their own class for which they plan and teach the curriculum.

Each has a line manager, in the case of Rufus and Amy this is their key stage co-ordinator

and for Robert this is the head teacher. All three have professional pupil progress targets

relating to performance management objectives which are reviewed at least annually. At

the time of the focus group discussion Amy had undergone an Ofsted inspection the

previous week, Rufus’ school was inspected in the autumn term earlier in the year and given

a second consecutive ‘Satisfactory’ judgement and Robert’s school was anticipating an

inspection.

23

Gaining insights into practice

The research paradigm of this project is largely interpretive. Whilst acknowledging some of

the rigours of the positivist paradigm (e.g. checklist data and video evidence) it is

characterised primarily by the subjective dimensions of participant observation and

personal and professional reflection. (I use the term ‘Professional feelings’ to describe how

the teachers feel about their improvisatory behaviours in the classroom.) The process of

gathering insights and interpreting practice is intended to be a developmental opportunity

for the participants, thus demonstrating absolute respect (Levinas’ ‘Radical Alterity’, 1989)

towards the teachers involved. The underlying philosophy here is hermeneutic and reflects

my own assumptions about the nature of teaching and learning as an exchange, and about

my beliefs on the ‘social realities’ (Blaikie, 2000) of the practice of teaching. The design of

the strategies outlined below is rooted in the epistemological belief that the most effective

way to understand what, why and how teachers do what they do is to give them the

opportunity and tools to tell you themselves; to understand the practices and behaviours

from within (Burrell and Morgan, 1979).

Insights into the teachers’ professional experience were collected in the following forms and

via the following means:

1. TMB Checklist– the teachers used a checklist of TMBs each day for one week to log

those they have made use of. The behaviours on the list were initially identified by

me but extended and modified through consultation with the teachers. At an initial

meeting they made suggestions of additional TMBs and through discussion the

wording, definitions and interpretations of each behaviour was negotiated and

agreed. It was decided by consensus that in addition to the defined behaviours,

there would also be a category titled ‘Other’ in which they would record new TMBs

which occurred to them during the process. It seems appropriate that a study

examining improvisation and the classroom as a ‘dynamic system’ (de Bott, 2007)

should be open to novel behaviours arising in the Teachable Moment. The

participants completed five versions of the checklist over the week of their choosing

24

during the Autumn term of 2011, highlighting the behaviours and indicating the

context (e.g. lesson, stage of the lesson etc). (These can be found in Appendix A.)

2. TMB Reflective Log– each teacher also completed a daily entry in a reflective log in

which they enlarged upon their TMBs and explored their own professional feelings

about this aspect of professional practice in this area over the week. There were

prompt questions to aid their thinking, however the remit here was flexible. The log

could be used to elaborate further on one particular TM and the TMBs which

accompanied it; it could be used to give an overview of improvisations in one

particular lesson, half day or day. They could explore the wider contexts

(environment, hierarchies, relationships etc.) which may have influenced their

behaviour. The only stipulation placed on this activity was that participants should

explore how it felt to be in that moment (Professional feelings). My hope was that

the teachers would each take ownership over this reflective process. (These can also

be found in Appendix A.)

3. Videoed Lesson – each participant videoed themselves teach one lesson during the

week and watched it back, evaluating their own improvisations and intuitions in

TMs. There were no specific questions or prompts for this analysis, but all

participants were asked to make some notes whilst watching the video about the

TMBs they observed in their own practice. Only the teachers themselves watched

their own videoed lessons. Their own observations, evaluations and analysis of

themselves in action formed the basis of the last activity, a semi-structured focus

group discussion.

4. Focus group discussion– all three participants took part in the discussion and were

asked to reflect on their TMBs as captured in the checklist, reflective log and videoed

lesson, and on their thoughts and professional feelings about this aspect of their

professional development. The questions also prompted them to consider factors at

different levels influencing their behaviour. (Questions used in the discussion can be

found in Appendix B.) In addition, within this group interview the teachers were

given two tasks which they carried out independently as a group. Task 1: (appendix

25

C) to discuss and decide upon five likely characteristics of teachers who are expert at

improvising in TMs. Task 2: (appendix D) to discuss and decide upon five necessary

characteristics of schools in which such teachers thrive. For both of these tasks the

teachers were left alone. Finally, the participants were prompted to evaluate the

research process.

Ethics in brief:

The teachers and I discussed the aims and objectives of the research in advance. They were

given the opportunity to ask questions and clarify expectations. Their participation was on

the basis of voluntary informed consent and the right to withdraw at any point during the

process (BERA, 2011). It was explained that neither their names or the names of their

schools would not be published, this enabled them to contribute candidly at each stage of

the research without anxiety about the consequences (Newby, 2010). This was of particular

importance because, as discussed in the previous section, a key factor influencing TMBs is a

teacher’s sense that they are permitted to improvise and exercise their own judgement.

Comments alluding to lack of permission prohibiting such behaviours could be seen as

criticism of line managers, head teachers or even school governance of their respective

schools, therefore anonymity was essential to the process.

Situated ethics and postmodern evaluation: Co-researching with the ‘Other’.

When viewed as situated knowledge (Simons, 2000), ethics and research methods become

intertwined and arguably are most usefully be discussed together. The following section

explores these elements in relation to postmodern interpretations of qualitative research

and their relevance to this study.

Levinas (1989) criticises the way that research ethics are dominated by epistemology in his

rejection of binary oppositions that have traditionally held sway in qualitative research,

with promises of clarity, certainty and universal generalisation. That is, ethics understood

primarily as evaluators obtaining accurate data from subjects. This, he writes has led to a

lack of respect for the Other. The crux of the criticism here is that in the dominant

26

methodologies the Other (participants) is seen as distinct; an ‘object of knowledge.’ (Usher,

2000:176). By drawing on Cartesian dualisms of mind-body, cognition-emotion and

individual-social to seek absolutes and certainty from participants and data derived from

them, the researcher risks failing to acknowledge what is uncertain, or unknowable. Here

lies an ethical compromise, that the Other becomes reduced to something knowable and

universal, losing his or her singularity. In a useful overview of post-colonial commentators

(Trinh, 1989; Spivak, 1993; Bhabha, 1994) Stronach and Maclure (1997:4) suggest that

‘disappointment’ with the myth of representational clarity (post-structuralism) is something

researchers in social sciences should both seek out and find comfort with. Conceptualising

the Other in part as inaccessible and unrepresentable is, according to Levinas, more

respectful. In response to this I have avoided any attempt to objectify the teachers, either

through psycho-analysis, judgement or categorising behaviour; preferring instead to let

them tell their own stories.

Levinas borrows analysis from Lacan’s (1973) work on identity and suggests that the radical

alterity of the Other, the unassailable uniqueness of each individual, is what is at stake. In

Lacan’s conception of the Other , the individual is considered a ‘locus’, an originator of self

and can only become a subject (i.e. subordinate or ‘participant’) if they choose to adopt this

position. In this study, the teachers volunteered because they recognised the value in

opportunities for professional dialogue and reflection which the process facilitated.

Centrally controlled curricula radically subordinates individuals, relieving them of their

alterity. It was my intention that the evaluative processes in this research would not

confound this tendency but, if anything, counteract it in some way. Teaching is a socially

complex phenomena and this research aims to represent the multiplicity of its participants’

voices and their lived experience.

The practical implications of this concept of ethics (that absolute respect for participants

underpins all activity) are that what could be described as a data gathering exercise

becomes reframed as an attempt to come to a deeper understanding of practice, and that

the ‘methods’ employed are instruments which uphold, preserve and encourage the agency

and Otherness (whatever that might be and however it may manifest itself) of the

participants and do not undermine it. In other words, the means of finding out in this study

should not inhibit or discredit the object of its gaze – personal agency. My ‘position’

27

(Thomas, 2009) in the study is therefore not just an ontological question, but also an ethical

one, and has to do with where power (Scott & Morrison, 2007) resides within the evaluative

process.

In attempting to define postmodernism, Hebdige (1988:226) speaks favourably of the

‘erosion of triangular formations of power and knowledge’ which place the expert at the

apex and the ‘masses’ at the base. There are parallels with Marxism here, however this also

provides a useful analogy for thinking about the ethics of qualitative evaluation in the post-

positivist paradigm. To conduct observations of the participants in the classroom, to watch

and analyse the videos of them teaching and make my own judgements about their

improvisations would be to place myself at the apex and keep them firmly at the base. They

provide the footage, I provide the analysis; thus I become an accomplice in stripping them of

their agency and self-efficacy. In doing so it would also perpetuate one of the key

hypotheses of this study; that surveillance, assessment, judgements, performance targets

and other technologies of power, limit improvisatory and intuitive professional practice. By

asking participants to evaluate themselves through reflection, observation and discussion I

tried to avoid replicating the architecture (surveillance, accountability, prescription) of the

system within which they practice.

If a radical respect for the Other in research demands less focus on measurable and useable

recommendations is it of any use? It seems legitimate to ask how one argues for the

authoritativeness or usefulness of epistemologies and research methodologies which are

unlikely to influence politicians or inform policy. Stronach and Maclure (1997:6) advocate

not trying. Their argument rejects any

‘attempt to claim authority for educational research by ‘getting our

message across’ more clearly to policy-makers, press and public; or...

imposing a unanimity of voice; or...offering simple solutions to intractable

problems such as ‘school effectiveness’.

The argument here is that the issues which occupy time, energy and column inches of those

engaged in mainstream educational debate are in themselves trivialities and misnomers and

can therefore only be discussed using ‘populist rhetoric’ and positivist vocabulary.

28

Postmodern or poststructuralist evaluation of practice on the other hand views the

limitations of its own interpretations as its strength, presenting complexity, contradiction

and uncertainty as indicators of authenticity and perturbing the relationships between

causes and effects, and reality and impression. This suggests that far from ‘usefulness’ and

‘application’ being the unfortunate victims of respectful research practices, they may in fact

not be desired outcomes in the first place.

The teachers in this study evaluated their own practice by identifying and analysing

instances in which they seized and capitalised upon Teachable Moments, reflecting on the

circumstances from which their improvisations arose (TMs), strategies and intuitions they

employed in the moment (TMBs) and their ‘professional feelings’ about this. This self-

evaluative approach places them firmly in the driving seat (Treleaven, 1994; Reason, 1994)

of the process, but does also raise questions of validity. Reflections and initial conclusions

are from the teachers own perspectives and, as such, subject to their interpretation of

situations, of TMs and TMBs, and to their professional identity and self-efficacy. This

emphasis on self-evaluation is an important aspect of the research as it acknowledges the

inevitability of subjectivity in qualitative evaluation and places the teachers themselves in

the role of co-researchers and co-interpreters (engineers of research, not consumers of it);

radically respected. This feature of the research however, marginalises objectivity and any

notion that there is an ‘independent reality’ (Ratner, 2002:10) that can be grasped and

analysed.

This poses a problem for the post-structuralist researcher. Documenting and disseminating

data about an independent reality is considerably less demanding than negotiating the

maelstrom of uncertainty that post-structuralist and postmodernist paradigms can be.

Hargeaves (1994) argues that adopting postmodernism as a research position is inadvisable

due to its relativistic nature. Stronach and Maclure (1997:9) speak of the desire, apparent in

educational texts, to ‘contain’ postmodernism. The implication here is that by embracing

the relativist position with open arms, research activity may glean little or nothing of any

disseminatable value. They cite Lather (1991) who prefers a divide and rule strategy over

containment. Here the desirable characteristics of postmodernist research (democratic,

progressive, critical, emancipatory) are siphoned away from the less desirable (reactionary,

fascistic, acquiescent, nihilistic). In this research relativism is actively encouraged, however

29

it is tempered by my own evaluations of the teachers’ self-evaluation. The intention here is

to be ‘open’ Stronach and Maclure (1997) without opening up to the ‘abyss’. To resist

closure (looking for absolutes) but not completely. If, as Giddens (1986) believes,

objectivism and subjectivism are not mutually exclusive, it should be possible to hold both

lenses in balance with one another; finding something of disseminatable value within an

interpretive process. In this case, the object of value might be a question rather than a

conclusion, or a tool for refining discussion and debate, rather than new knowledge. It is

hoped that this research will contribute towards a wider discussion about teacher autonomy

and professional judgement.

One feature of this research which epitomises the democratic approach is that the list of

behaviours against which the teachers evaluated their practice was drawn up collectively in

the initial meeting. In order to clarify what is and is not considered a TM or TMB for the

purposes of the research, the teachers gave examples of typical classroom practices and

asked if these would fall under one or other of the TMB categories on the checklist. During

discussion about these typical practices and about behaviours which might fall under the

‘other’ category on the checklist, the teachers themselves suggested alternatives. In this

way the process of identifying the behaviours to be highlighted and evaluated was collegiate

and the categories of evaluation developed collaboratively. The principle benefit here

according to Schensul and Schensul (1992) is that participants bring expert knowledge of the

field. In this case, by identifying and articulating some of the categories of behaviours under

evaluation, the teachers actually began to think in an evaluative way about their practice

before the reflective process had formally begun.

The issues of reliability and validity, whilst always an important consideration, are perhaps

less dominant in a post-modern interpretive research context. Since this study sets out to

interpret insights and experiences rather than to prove anything, questions about the

validity of the ‘data’ are less pertinent perhaps than questions about the interpretations. As

Punch (2009:244) notes, ‘reliability is a central concept in measurement’, however, this

study aims to gauge, or get a sense of teachers’ actions and reflections; not measure them.

Nevertheless, there were certain factors to be mindful of which may have influenced the

teachers’ practice and reflections.

30

Firstly, something similar to the Hawthorn effect was possible in the TMB checklist,

reflective log and videoed lesson. Rufus commented on this in the focus group discussion,

suggesting that when monitoring a particular aspect of one’s own practice, it is difficult to

know whether one’s actions are entirely natural.

“I don’t know whether I was doing this or that because that’s what I would

naturally have done, or because I was looking out for those things.”

Two things mitigated against this being problematic. The teachers were all aware of this

phenomenon and cognisant of it during the various stages of the research. In addition, their

specific actions in practice represented a relatively small part of the overall data, and was of

comparatively little importance compared to their reflections on the concepts of TMs and

TMBs, their feelings whilst teaching and analysis of their own professional autonomy.

Documenting their everyday practice was a means to initiate reflection, evaluation and

analysis, not an end in itself.

Secondly, the issue of researcher influence and power relationships. Every effort was made

to redistribute power (Ebbs, 1996) in this qualitative process. The teachers’ voices were

encouraged in all stages of the research, however relational dynamics exist in all

interpersonal exchanges and the focus group discussion was no exception to this. Although

it was made clear to all three teachers that there were no set or expected answers to any of

the questions and that they could reflect freely on their experiences, potential always exists

for participants to feel inhibited about saying certain things and perhaps to want to present

themselves to each other in a particular way. My epistemological position was

characterised by what Karnieli-Miller et al.(2009) refer to as the co-production of

knowledge, in which ‘the division between researcher and subject is blurred, and control

over representation is increasingly shared’ (Gergen & Gergen, 2000, p. 1035). There were

one or two small indicators of inhibition at the beginning of the focus group as might be

expected, however these did not appear to impact on the quality of the discussion.

During the focus group interview all three teachers commented that the process of

evaluating their own professional behaviour was useful to them. In the case of Rufus, it

brought a significant living contradiction (Whitehead, 1988) into relief, but also reassured

31

him about aspects of his own practice. For Robert, the process refocused his attention on

his educational values and encouraged him to think in depth about why he does certain

things when teaching. Amy reported that the self-evaluation had convinced her of the

importance of improvisation in teaching and helped her realise that this was an area of

strength for her.

Insights and analysis:

Significant themes which arise from the focus group discussion, the group tasks, the self-

evaluation and the video reflection exercise and which were common to all three teachers’

experiences are presented and reviewed in this section. These are risk-taking, creativity,

confidence and permission. The first part relates to the nature of these Teachable

Moments, factors which trigger them, the conditions in which they arise and how the

teachers responded to them. The second part relates to factors which influence teachers’

TM Behaviour and explores recurring concepts such as autonomy, permission and

professional trust, to which all evaluation and discussion of TMs and TMBs in this study

regularly returned. I have drawn on quotations from the teachers’ checklists, reflective

journals, group tasks and the focus group discussion throughout to illustrate and comment

on their perspectives.

Understanding Teachable Moments:

TMs identified by the teachers fell broadly into two categories, expected and unexpected;

the latter being by far the most commonly occurring. Expected TMs are those which arise in

lessons in which planning is minimal and improvisation is expected or encouraged. These

were described by Robert as moments “designated” for responsiveness to children’s ideas,

questions and concerns. The most common context for this was pastoral, in sessions such

as Circle Time, in which the whole class discuss social, emotional and moral questions

relating to the children’s experience. It is interesting to note that all three teachers felt

significantly more permission from Head teachers and line managers to improvise in the

context of children’s social and emotional development than in the context of their

32

academic development. Robert described how he began each Circle Time with one or two

set questions, after which he improvised the rest of the session, following the children’s

lead:

“I have these set questions like ‘how are you feeling?’ and ‘what are

you looking forward to?’ but these are really just a plinth from which

I can gauge the emotional temperature of the children. After that, it’s

all Teachable Moments because I haven’t got a clue in advance what

they’re going to bring up.”

The issue of trust came up several times during the focus group discussion and group tasks,

and it is interesting to note the contexts in which the teachers felt trusted by their line

managers to improvise and those in which they did not. Though circle time is structured

differently in the three schools, there was unanimous agreement that pastoral care whether

in structured or unstructured moments, was considered a suitable site for improvisation and

following intuitions. Rufus described these as occasions when “the box (referring to boxes

on planning sheets) is left deliberately blank.” Other contexts in which this was deemed to

be permitted were early morning work (during registration) and small group reading. One

interpretation of the apparent permissiveness here is that when measured against national

priorities and the standards agenda, these are relatively low stakes activities. This raises the

possibility that one could tell what a head teacher valued by examining when and where

they permit or encourage teachers to improvise.

The majority of TMs described by the teachers were unexpected. These moments are

unplanned for and arise incidentally or tangentially out of classroom discourse and the

trigger could come either from pupils or teachers, or from neither. Pupil prompted TMs

tended to arise from children’s questions, anecdotes, changes in emotional state and

misunderstandings, to which teachers respond; as in the following example from Rufus’

journal:

“DT lesson. It was meant to be a straight forward introduction about

forces, but became a discussion/demonstration of gravity as it was clear

that this was something the children had not encountered or discussed before.”

33

Here, according to Rufus the TM arose from a realisation that there was a mismatch

between assumed and actual understanding. It could be argued that better knowledge of

the children’s understandings would have pre-empted this, nevertheless, the moment was

seized and capitalised upon. Amy gave a similar example in her journal:

“Literacy: I wanted the children to make their own instructions to make

a Chinese lantern. I pointed to the lanterns the children had made the

previous week, hanging from the ceiling and asked them to talk to the

person next to them about how they were made. I soon realised they

had forgotten and some were talking about Florence Nightingale lanterns.

I quickly got a piece of paper, some glue, scissors and tissue paper, laid

them on a table and asked the children the same question. This time it

was much better.”

In this example the TM arose out of children’s misunderstandings. Again it could be argued

that better assessment of children’s learning or knowledge of their capacities would have

made the adjustments unnecessary. What this particular TM highlights though, is the

intersubjectivity between teacher and pupils, that pupil learning demands a match between

teacher assumed and pupil actual understanding.

In another example from Amy’s log she describes how she adapted a mathematics task to

match the understandings of certain groups of children in the class. In fact, an intervention

with one group led to Amy redesigning the plenary of the lesson for all the children.

“I did my plenary like this, instead of what was on the plan.”

These examples raise an interesting point linking the nature of TMs and the nature of the

teaching and learning process. In all cases, an unpredictable event was followed by

adjustment which provides a useful illustration of how unpredictability in the dynamics of

an environment demands improvisation from those managing that environment. If teaching

and learning is a set of dynamic processes and children’s understandings and capabilities are

also dynamic then one might expect lessons to be an ongoing series of judgements,

misjudgements and adjustments on the part of the teacher (and indeed the learner).

Interestingly however, the prevailing feeling among the teachers in this study was that

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misjudging children’s understandings and capabilities whilst being observed was a sign of

poor teacher assessment and poor knowledge of pupils. Far from being considered a skill,

these inevitable moments of dynamic judgement and adjustment are frowned upon. Rufus,

whose videoed lesson was also observed by his line manager as part of an ongoing internal

scrutiny process, summed it up this way in his journal,

“I felt a real pressure of expectations working against any spontaneity,

particularly the idea of pace inhibiting my confidence in going ‘off script’.”

For a teacher of so many years experience to express this decline in confidence struck me as

interesting. However, this is a stark illustration of the possibility for intuitional paralysis

which Claxton (2000) describes when professionals are forced to focus too much on the

detail of what they are doing in the moment.

Teacher initiated TMs, also unexpected, are those in which inspiration strikes resulting in a

new approach, a different style of presentation or additional content. These “epiphany

moments” as Rufus described them are not prompted by the children but by the teacher’s

experience and imagination, and these could be described as teacher realisations rather

than direct responses to the children. Rufus went on to describe an incident in which whilst

teaching about measurement in mathematics he was suddenly reminded about something

he had heard on the radio that morning about cubits and the equity of human arm span and

height. He wove this into his teaching of that lesson and a child came to him the following

morning excited about having discussed it at home with his parents. It is interesting to note

that during the focus group discussion Rufus seemed quite sure that there was little scope

for TMs and TMBs in his teaching due to the frequency of internal surveillance, pending an

Ofsted inspection. He described conscious attempts to improvise as,

“Squeezed in surreptitiously”

as though doing something subversive. His checklist of TMBs however, indicates that he

was engaged in most of the pre-identified TMBs throughout the week. This suggests that

some of these improvisatory behaviours can be sufficiently embedded in everyday practice,

or be subtle enough to go unnoticed by the teacher themselves. This sense of doing

35

something that would not be approved of was clear from all three teachers, and will be

discussed in more detail later.

There was agreement from all three teachers that holding back on these “epiphany”

moments, or even rejecting them outright was at times, just as important as making use of

them. Rufus again, explained how a

“grinding gear change”

arising from a sudden thought or idea from the teacher in the moment can disrupt the flow

of the lesson and be an impediment, rather than a support, to learning. These crossroads

moments seem pivotal to TMBs. The ability to make a quick judgement about embracing or

rejecting an idea may be just as important for teachers as the openness to ideas in the first

place. The conditions, including physical, emotional and psychological factors, in which TMs

arise will be discussed later.

The third category of unexpected TMs is that in which extrinsic events, for example sudden

snow, an unexpected visitor or an assembly which over runs, forces a change of plan, a

restructuring of timetable or a rethink of lesson content. These moments can add, or

remove urgency from the pace of classroom discourse, force teachers into periods of

improvisation and introduce novelty or disruption into the teaching and learning exchange.

Amy illustrated this using the example of a teacher’s judgements following a class assembly

or Christmas play performed to parents,

“You’re not expecting the next lesson to be brilliant, so you decide we

won’t do that, we’ll do something else. You know you’re not going to

get any work out of them so you talk about it (the performance), evaluate

it, ask how it went and how they feel about it before you can move on.”

In an instance such as this, the excitement of the event forces a slowing of the pace of

transition to the next lesson. Robert shared a similar example in which he cancelled a

literacy lesson on his first morning back after paternity leave to show pictures of his new

daughter to the class. His analysis of this decision was as follows,

“The children just had to know about the birth, the baby and how it was

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all going and there was almost no point in doing anything else until we’d

got that out of the way. They couldn’t think about anything else at that point.”

Asked if he would describe that as a professional judgement, he replied,

“Yes! I would exactly describe that as a professional judgement.

I think it’s advanced teacher skills in fact.”

In both these examples, whilst neither Amy nor Robert regretted their decisions to deviate

from their timetables, the desire to justify their actions was apparent. This suggests two

things. Firstly, that the replacement activities were in some way subordinate to those

originally timetabled and that their legitimacy was therefore questionable, and secondly

that their line managers may not consider their deviations to be “advanced teacher skills”.

Conditions in which TMs arise:

A theme revisited several times throughout the focus group discussion was that of risk

taking. Amy illustrated this with an example from her own practice in which, with a few

minutes to go before a literacy lesson on writing eye-witness accounts, she decided to wrap

a piece of cloth around her waist and put an old curtain on her head and enter her

classroom in character as the maid of Samuel Pepys. After a few minutes of role play in

character she removed the costume and the lesson progressed more or less as initially

planned and the children produced their best writing of the year so far according to Mary.

Robert shared a similar example in which he was about to begin a lesson he had planned on

writing speeches.

“I started by thinking that I’d just tell them they had to write a speech,

but then just as I was about to begin I decided it would be much more

exciting for them to receive it like a secret mission. So, I explained that

Winston Churchill had a sore throat and that they would have to deliver

his Christmas address, meanwhile my LSA was busy putting this challenge

into ‘top secret’ envelopes for me to give out.’

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A risk inherent in these scenarios seems less to do with the actual activities and more to do

with the practice of leaving decisions to the last minute. The risk is not just whether the

activity will succeed or fail to inspire the children, but also whether an idea for an activity

will come at all. Analysis by the teachers of their own and each other’s TMs led Robert to

declare that,

“There is a fine line between my best and worst lessons.”

The implication here was that these quick ideas do not always work, but when they do they

make the risk worth taking. This highlights the dynamic nature of teaching and learning and

raises an interesting question about the mental and emotional composure of teachers in

which they are most likely to have moments of inspiration. Amy and Robert’s evaluation of

these instances suggested that fear and adrenaline were important factors. Commenting on

Amy dressing up, Robert said:

“I bet you wouldn’t have thought of doing that whilst sitting in front

of a computer (alluding to planning by filling in boxes on a proforma)

and I wouldn’t have thought of my thing (mission in envelopes) had

the pressure not been on with only five minutes to go.”

According to the experiences of these teachers, leaving certain things deliberately

unplanned (leaving the box empty) is one way of setting the conditions in which TMBs may

arise. The risk here is that no useful idea will emerge, but also that the inverse may be true;

that being thoroughly planned for teaching and knowing each step of the lesson in advance

could stifle moments of inspiration. Pollard (2008) is not alone in suggesting that planning

should be organic, not static. In both cases, Amy and Robert were not however, completely

unplanned. They had plans, but modified them at the last minute in favour of new ideas. It

is possible that the security which comes from having a plan, in fact sets the conditions for

new ideas to arise. There was agreement between the teachers that this is where

experience plays a part. As Amy pointed out,

“The more of this type of lesson (lively/spontaneous) you’ve taught,

the more likely you are to have a good idea.”

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This correlates with one response in the group task describing the attributes of the TM

teacher for which Rufus, Amy and Robert agreed that a broad range of interests and life

experience would be essential. In addition to life and teaching experience, it could also be

argued that experience of the sensation of needing a quick idea is a crucial factor. The

deliberate act of being unplanned, the necessity to have a plan, the emotional state of fear

and the psychological state of openness which accompany unpreparedness may also require

rehearsal.

So far insights from the research activities about the nature of TMs point to a few key

hypotheses. Firstly, TMs and TMBs are an organic response to the dynamics of the

classroom, and TMs rely on what both teachers and pupils do. Secondly, that whilst TMs are

often unexpected, they can also be encouraged by risk taking and deliberate or strategic

unpreparedness on the part of teachers. Thirdly, this is considered to be subversive teacher

behaviour. With this in mind, it appears that one factor either encouraging or inhibiting

TMBs is teachers themselves; another is expectations from line management. These two

factors will be discussed at length in the next sections.

Experiencing the Teachable Moment: Creativity and Confidence

Drawing on the engagement and experiences of the participating teachers, a definition of

the Teachable Moment has evolved to include moments of spontaneity, improvisation,

creativity and adjustment. These moments involve responding to events outside of

teachers’ control, as well as deliberate attempts to instigate unpreparedness in an attempt

to remain open to inspiration. In group task one (appendix C), Rufus, Amy and Robert

identified creativity and confidence among five characteristics a teacher would need to

improvise effectively in the classroom. Exactly how these attributes contribute to a state of

openness and how they can be experienced and harnessed by teachers, warrants further

analysis. This section will explore how they relate to TMs and TMBs.

One suggestion from Herbert (2010:79) is that any teacher prepared to take a risk should be

able to tap into what she calls ‘the creativity of the unconscious’, one explanation for the

source of unplanned and unexpected ideas which arise. Research by Runco (2004; 2006;

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2007), Griffin & McDermott (1998) and Sternberg & Lubart (1996) suggests that some

people are more naturally predisposed to improvisation than others. Risk taking, originality,

playfulness, sensitivity and a preference for complexity are cited, along with autonomy,

independence, non-conformity and openness as characteristics of creative individuals. This

hypothesis presents a problem for attempts to theorise about TMB and make

recommendations for its development. If teacher behaviour is directly linked to disposition,

then attempts to encourage the development of particular behaviours may result in slow or

negligible outcomes. Nickerson (1999) contends however that creativity is a product of

both nature and nurture and agrees that, whilst tenuous, there is evidence to suggest that

creative capacities can be improved.

An interesting suggestion emerging from research into creativity by Barron (1963:157) is

that

‘The creative individual is one who has learned to prefer irregularities

and apparent disorder and to trust himself to make new order.’

A correlation can be drawn here between the creative individual who is comfortable with

uncertainty, and the teacher who has chosen to leave the introduction to their lesson partly

to chance, as in the examples from Amy and Robert. Both are taking risks, both are relying

on certainty coming out of uncertainty and both are trusting that ideas will follow. This

moment of uncertainty, described by Amy and Robert as characterised by fear and

adrenaline, is a form of adversity. Albert (1978) claimed that creativity arises from

adversity. In the case of a TM, the adversity may be no more than an awareness that a

planned activity is not resonating with the learners, or that there is no planned activity as

yet. In this situation a temporary withdrawal from the problem at hand (Ward & Saunders,

2003) often results in a sudden realisation or insight, as with Archimedes recognising the

principle of water displacement or Kekule’s realisation about the structure of Benzene.

Whilst not pedagogic in context, these examples do illustrate a psychological framework

concerning the way the conscious and unconscious minds work. A hypothesis presented by

Ward and Saunders (2003) suggests that creative insights and ideas are often not available

to the conscious mind at all and that only by ceasing conscious effort can they be accessed.

40

This is consistent with Robert’s description of how and when ideas come to him in the

moment.

“For me it’s a bit like Bob Monkhouse on, what was it, Celebrity Squares?

He used to have this banter with the audience, they would call out and he

would do this improvisation with them and he could only do it live, they

tried to rehearse it but he could only do it in the moment. When they

asked people to call specific things out he simply couldn’t do it, but in the

moment he could always get that old joke out of his head and deliver it.”

In this example, the conscious effort which limits creativity is the deliberate attempt to be

creative. Robert aligns his experience with that of a comedian; when he tries to be

spontaneous he rarely is, but when he operates unconsciously in the moment spontaneity

flows. Here an interesting point arises about the reflective journal and video reflection

activities. Did the teachers’ deliberate, conscious evaluation of their own TMBs prevent

them from accessing creative potential in any given moment? Rufus posed this very

question in his reflective journal.

Amy described a similar instance in her reflective log, in which she changed her mind about

an approach to teaching addition:

“Changed the plan before I even started. Thought having a 100 square

would help them. On the spot I made up a rhyme about adding 11

(across one, down one...) Thought it might help!”

There is a similarity here with the concept of optimal experience. The experience, described

explicitly by Csikszentmihalyi and implicitly by Robert and Amy is one in which ideas flow

without obstruction. Csikszentmihalyi’s contention that individuals can deliberately

organise their consciousness to experience Flow as and when they choose bears some

relation to Robert’s assertion that we put ourselves in the position where inspiration can

come. Interestingly, the position Robert described was characterised primarily by fear due

to the imperative to be inspired, whereas the position in which one experiences Flow is

described as a more positive ‘can do’ state of mind.

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Ward and Saunders’ (2003) definition of creativity is useful to this discussion due to its

inclusion of behaviour and contextually appropriateness:

‘Creativity is the result of the convergence of basic cognitive processes,

core domain knowledge and environmental, personal and motivational

factors which allow an individual to produce an object or behaviour that

is considered both novel and appropriate in a particular context.’

(electronic journal – no page number given)

A creative teacher based on this definition would not only have original ideas and develop

original approaches suitable for the classroom and the particular children they teach, but

also behave in creative ways; this could include deliberately leaving space for inspiration in

the moment. Attempts to identify types of creativity have led to some interesting

distinctions that are helpful in examining the psychology of the TM. Boden’s (1990)

conception of psychological creativity, in which creative ideas are novel in the mind of the

individual, though not necessarily historically new, describes much of the creativity

employed by these teachers in TMs. A particular idea may be tried and tested, perhaps

even by the teacher in question, the creativity in the TM therefore becomes knowing exactly

when and how to use and adapt it in the current context. This is the role of experience, as

identified by Rufus, Amy and Robert, and is similar to Czikszentmihalyi’s (1988) classification

of personally creative people who adopt original ideas and perspectives, but whose ideas do

not radically alter domains of endeavour.

Whilst spontaneity is not essential to creativity, it is characteristic of some creative activity.

Johnson-Laird (1988:209) describes creative improvisation as occurring when it is necessary

to ‘work rapidly within a framework.’ In the classroom that framework might be the

timetable or the lesson plan. He goes on to hypothesize that even within rigid frameworks

gaps may appear which can be filled with a rapid choice from the creative individual. This

raises an interesting question about the will of the teacher to improvise. According to

Johnson-Laird’s suggestion, teachers who choose to remain open to TMs may find

opportunities to work around, or perhaps subvert the frameworks within which they

operate. This relationship between framework and improvisation is reminiscent of the

Giddens’ position on structure and agency. I will pick up this in the next section.

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One aspect of creativity which is commonly identified and which differs from the

spontaneous action of the TM is that of process taking precedence over product. In the TM

the quality and effectiveness of teachers’ ideas matter because the creativity is not an end

in itself, learning and development is the end and creativity may just be the means. In this

sense, there is a degree of objectivity about the TM, as Robert pointed out in the focus

group discussion:

“Sometimes it just doesn’t work, you have an idea but it turns out to

be no more effective than it might have been if you’d done what you

originally planned. Or, it could be worse.”

The divergence here between creativity as an end and creativity as a tool is an important

one. For an artist, the process may be as important, if not more so, as the product itself.

The psychology of the TM, as already demonstrated by comments and analysis from Rufus,

Amy and Robert, is based on one key imperative: to have ideas that are ultimately useful to

children’s learning and development. Parents for example, who are increasingly

constructed as consumers of education (Harris & Bijsterveld, 1993; Cizek, 2000; Wilkins,

2011), are unlikely to care that their child’s teacher has been through a creative process if

the resulting activity or lesson was uninspiring or contributed little to their child’s learning.

Here lies a second risk for the teacher in the TM, that thoughts and ideas which come to

them in the moment while they teach may not be inspiring or effective.

Hennessey and Amabile (1988) suggest that the state which most readily characterises

creative moments is one of intrinsic motivation. Crutchfield (1962) in fact indicated that the

work of notably creative people is accompanied by high levels of intrinsic motivation. The

idea that an individual will be most open to inspiration and perhaps spontaneity when doing

something that they love seems logical. Here again, the work of Czikszentmihalyi comes

into focus. The state of Flow is characterised similarly as one in which individuals

experience high levels of enjoyment in a given activity. Crucially, Lepper and Greene

(1978) have suggested that intrinsically motivated people are more likely to feel freer to

take risks. Mcgraw (1978) focussed attention on tasks rather than individuals, and

suggested that performance on creative tasks would be adversely affected by extrinsic

motivations, but performance on algorithmic tasks would not. There are several important

43

points to note here in relation to TMs. Firstly, teaching requires both creative and

methodical activity and requires teachers to think and act both creatively and logically,

sometimes simultaneously. Based on Magraw’s work, it may be safe to assume that the

many extrinsic drivers which exert themselves on teachers do enhance performance on

logical activity. It may also be fair to assume however, that these drivers do little to

enhance teachers’ creativity, and in fact may damage it. Robert illustrated this in the focus

group when he stated that

“Observation (by others) naturally leads to being conservative.”

The implication here is that surveillance and scrutiny, as extrinsic drivers, discourages risk

taking, prompting more, rather than less, reliance on a script.

One aspect of professionalism which the teachers described as damaged by external

motivators was their confidence. The confidence to go off script or follow one’s instincts

was highlighted as an important trait for an improvising teacher, and damage to that

confidence surfaced several times during the focus group discussion, mostly from the two

more experienced teachers Rufus and Robert. They described how their confidence had

diminished over recent years.

Rufus: ”Confidence is what I’ve lost; the confidence to do it (improvise).

And lost the confidence that I’m allowed to do it.”

Robert: “I’ve lost a lot of confidence in my teaching over the last few

years and I just think it’s because of the constant criticism of it. It’s like

a downward spiral.”

There are two aspects to Rufus’ comment; the loss of confidence in his own judgement and

in his sense of not being permitted to exercise that judgement. These two are closely

related; individuals’ self-confidence comes in part from the confidence which others invest

in them. The influence which others within, and outside of, the school community can have

on teacher confidence will be discussed in the next section.

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Judgement in professional contexts is described by Atkinson (2000:53) as a trust in one’s

own ‘ability to come up with an appropriate response to the shifting, unpredictable

experiences of life.’ Instances in which individuals show unwillingness to exercise their own

judgement are often characterised by ill-defined or understood expectations or incomplete

information. One might expect this to be the experience of the novice, and it appears to fit

with Dreyfus’(1981) conception of novices as reluctant to exercise discretionary judgement.

The difference here is that this lack of confidence was expressed by two experienced

professionals, experts in their field. One of the questions which this research raises is

whether novice teachers are capable of behaving like expert teachers; whether there are

strategies or dispositions which can be developed or adopted by novice teachers which

would facilitate the sort of intuitions and spontaneity that expert teachers display. Here

though, we see the reverse, expert teachers somehow disabused of their expert capacity for

exercising judgement.

Atkinson (2000) provides a useful model for analysing why this might be. She suggests three

factors which can either enable or disable confidence in one’s judgement: support, direction

and structure. Though her model refers to early infant environmental experience and its

affect on adult judgement, the model is also useful for examining what adults experience in

the present. Support is conceived as ‘positive interest’ from relevant persons, which in the

teacher’s case might mean fellow colleagues, line managers and the head teacher. Support

is inappropriate when trusting one’s judgement always results in criticism or sanctions.

Direction is the extent to which one is supported to be autonomous. It is considered

inappropriate when one is never encouraged towards autonomy. Structure is the secure

and consistent framework within which one can reflect safely on one’s actions.

Environments in which expectations are constantly shifting exert a negative effect on

judgment. It is interesting to note that all three components of this model are extrinsic

factors which exert themselves intrinsically. This is to be expected when describing infant

development, however I believe that in the same way that infants develop dispositions and

characteristics through inter-subjectivity and engagement with their environment,

interpersonal, inter-professional and environmental engagement can relieve individuals,

including experienced adult professionals, of confidences. Of the three components in

Atkinson’s model, structure is of particular interest. Rufus and Robert spoke of losing

45

confidence which suggests that they are aware of not having something that they previously

had. They also both referred to times in their career when they had felt more confident to

exercise judgement than they do currently. This suggests one of three things; either they

have changed, the structures and expectations within which they work have shifted, or

both. The second of these suggestions is congruous with the ongoing shifts in the political

landscape which drives constant change in expectations on the teaching profession, and

may go some way to explain why Amy, the least experienced of the three teachers, did not

mention diminishing confidence at all. The less time one has spent in the profession, the

less changes one has had to adapt to.

In the next section I will focus attention on the concept of permission and analyse the

teachers’ experiences in light of my earlier exploration of the relationship between structure

and agency.

Permission to act: structure and agency in Teachable Moments.

In the focus group discussion the teachers were asked to identify factors which supported or

inhibited them in responding to TMs. In the last section I analysed some of the factors

particular to the individual teachers which influenced their behaviour, creativity, risk taking

and confidence. It is however, difficult to isolate these elements of agency and examine

them separately from the structure within which they may occur. There is no doubt that

Rufus, Amy and Robert saw direct links between the structures within which they teach and

the way they behave in the classroom, and the issue of perceived permission to exercise

judgement and follow their instincts permeated the entire discussion, resurfacing in almost

every response. Whilst there are many practices which structure the professional

experience of teachers, planning, timetabling and policies for example, Rufus, Amy and

Robert focussed predominantly on internal and external surveillance in their responses.

Gidden’s conception of structure and agency as described earlier, places them in a

relationship in which one facilitates the other. When asked to identify factors which

encouraged or discouraged action in the TM, the teachers focussed almost exclusively on

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those which inhibited them. For Rufus, observation of his classroom practice was the most

significant factor, as demonstrated in the following exchange:

Rufus: “For me at the moment it’s the word ‘pace’, that’s the current

buzz word. I had to go and observe my partner teacher who’s only in

her second year of teaching, to look at her pace. For me, it was too fast.

Some of them (the children) might have got it, but lots hadn’t, and then

she was on to the next thing (clicking fingers to indicate rushing). If you’re

doing something on the board and you think to yourself ‘have they all got

that? I’m not sure, do I just move onto the next thing or do I pause and

make sure? This is where I am very much feeling the pressure.”

Researcher: “That’s an interesting point. Is pace class or child specific or

is it an absolute?”

Rufus: “At the moment for me it has to be an absolute. My line manager

said, ‘I came to see pace in this lesson but I didn’t really see any. Next time,

I want to see lots of quick questions bang bang bang bang bang!’ This is

where I’m losing autonomy, and becoming an automaton.”

Here Rufus explains how he is being required to suppress his professional instincts about

what children most need in the moment and comply with a school-wide agenda. He went

on to explain that pace had been a key area for development highlighted by the Ofsted

inspection earlier in the year. As a result, all teachers were now expected to plan and teach

lessons using Smart Board software. With this resource the teacher creates slides

containing information, examples and tasks in advance and presents them one at a time to

the children throughout the lesson. This approach is intended to maintain pace in lessons

by limiting opportunities for pausing, recapping or deviating from the planned content. The

following exchange explains the rationale for this strategy and illustrates how the

environment around Rufus is shifting:

Rufus: “There’s a nearby school that is ‘Outstanding’ and that’s what

they do. Personally, I feel that we’re spoon-feeding the children. Twenty

47

years ago, I just wrote things on my blackboard during the lesson and I tend

to use my interactive whiteboard in the same way, just writing notes and

prompts for children. So this is a complete paradigm shift for me.”

This is a clear example of how a loss of confidence in one’s own judgement and in one’s

sense of permission to be spontaneous can come from the changing expectations of line

managers as they look for solutions to the problem of not being considered ‘outstanding’ by

Ofsted. When asked to identify the key characteristics of the Teachable Moment School in

group task 2, the teachers put Trust at number two out of five, saying:

Rufus: “You would feel trusted to do what you do.”

Roberts: “Yeah, absolutely.”

The insistence on teachers teaching from Smart Board slides in every lesson appears at odds

with this idea. What constitutes appropriate practice to Head teachers appears to be as

much governed by expectations outside of the school community as from within it, and in

some cases perhaps more so. What all three teachers described, to varying degrees and in

different ways, was a difficulty reinventing themselves professionally to suit evolving

expectations. It could be argued that internalising the practices of the school community as

in Bourdieu’s Habitus theory, becomes difficult when the practices change regularly to meet

external performance indicators. If Habitus, as conceived by Calhoun, is the structure which

facilitates improvisation (1995:304), then regular shifting of that structure might render

such improvisation difficult.

For Amy, the issue of external scrutiny was also an important one.

“We’ve just had Ofsted last week, and the inspector talked to me

about pace. My top table are real thinkers and can be so slow, but given

time they will write something really good. They’ll talk about it for five or

ten minutes before they start writing, they have to take the atmosphere in,

but they will finish it and it’ll be really good. But he (the inspector) said,

‘I would like to have seen you pushing the pace more with them, bang bang

bang (claps to indicate speed). If I had done that, I would have got half of

48

those children in a right tiz, probably three of them would have cried.

He wanted me to bring them back to the carpet for a plenary, but that

group actually benefitted from having a slower pace.”

Here again, expectations of someone from outside the school and class community are

imposed. What comes across clearly here is the role that Amy’s knowledge of the children

plays. The potential for undermining teacher confidence and willingness to make

professional judgements based on curriculum knowledge and knowledge of the children

needs little explanation. This leads to an interesting question raised by Robert about the

validity of external scrutiny.

“There is an essential flaw with lesson observations, and that is that it

is not possible to say for certain, when an observer says ‘you ought to

have done this or that, that their suggestion would have been any more

effective than what you actually did. The only way to prove this would

be to go back in time and re-teach that lesson. No one can actually say

‘it would have been better if...’”

Robert introduces a useful point of discussion here about the legitimacy of external

judgements. If, as in the case of Amy’s example, teachers’ knowledge of the children

influences their judgement regarding factors such as pace, pitch, suitable environments or

questions to ask, for example, then the question arises of whether a set of ‘universal’

criteria can be meaningfully employed as a point of reference for labelling practice

(Outstanding, Good, Satisfactory etc) or dispensing retrospective advice?

The process of disabusing teachers of their confidence to judge appropriate professional

action does not however, begin with line managers, head teachers or even Ofsted

inspectors observing lessons. Before the process of surveillance commences in a classroom,

the apparatus defining criteria for success or failure has been decided and published; these

performance descriptors and performance categories drawn up by those outside the

profession serve to undermine those in it. The teacher’s task could therefore be seen as

fitting their practice to the criteria, possibly at the expense of their instincts, as in the case of

Rufus.

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Sustaining intrinsic motivation in a culture dominated by extrinsic drivers is, according to

Deci and Ryan (1985), Deci et al. (1999) challenging. Performance indicators, such as

descriptors from Ofsted describing the features of lessons ranging from ‘Excellent’ down to

‘Unsatisfactory’, though revised periodically, until recently have been essentially inert, in

that they apply to all schools across the board and rarely change. The difficulty here for the

teacher is that responding to an inert rubric may come at the expense of dynamic

professional judgements, and this raises the question of whether an inert tool can be used

effectively to judge a dynamic process? Robert’s description of his thinking about a lesson

on rivers illustrates this:

“We were doing rivers, sea to source, and I was going to get them to

draw a diagram of the river Severn, talk about and label the features

of the river, very boring lesson, but it was going to get something in

the books that was going to look good. I was honestly thinking in those

terms about the lesson, you know, they would understand the key things

(about rivers). But then I thought, the children are going to hate this;

the computer suite next door was free so we dived onto Google Earth

and all followed the river Severn from sea to source. The children loved it,

and they couldn’t believe when they reached the source and zoomed out

that they were in the middle of North Wales.”

Of particular interest here is Robert’s shift in motivation. The first idea for the lesson could

be described as extrinsically motivated, by the need to show evidence of learning in

children’s books. The adjustment to the activity the children actually did appeared to be

motivated by an intrinsic desire to enthuse the children.

Assuming however, that accountability in the teaching profession is necessary, the question

becomes, not whether external scrutiny should take place at all, but whether it can take a

form which serves the purposes of accountability without damaging teacher confidence,

removing teacher agency or undermining teachers’ professionalism. In the next section I

will elaborate further on possible forms such a process might take; however one

characteristic, that of including teacher judgement as a key assessment criteria, is already

50

partially represented in new Ofsted literature. An examination of some of this literature will

further support this discussion.

The following criteria are taken from the new Ofsted Framework (2012) and are of particular

relevance to teacher action in the moment:

‘Observation of teaching will judge.....

the extent to which well judged teaching strategies, including setting challenging tasks matched to pupils’ learning needs, successfully engage all pupils in their learning

the extent to which teachers enthuse, engage and motivate pupils to learn and foster their curiosity and enthusiasm for learning

the extent to which teachers’ questioning and use of discussion promote learning’

Whilst there is only one direct reference to teacher judgement, and that reference is not

explicitly referring to judgement in the moment, all three of these criteria could be

interpreted as teacher action based on spontaneous decision making. Drawing on the

evidence from their own practice, the sort of adjustments described by Rufus, Amy and

Robert just before or during their lessons were integral to ensuring the matching of tasks to

individuals and increasing enthusiasm and motivation. It could also be argued that

questioning and discussion cannot be a scripted process, since pupil responses are often

unpredictable. There is therefore, an implied permission here to exercise professional

judgement in the moment.

A recent Ofsted publication, Moving English Forward: Action to raise standards in English

(2012:13) goes a step further. In describing common myths about good teaching it states

the following about pace and flexibility:

‘Pace. There seems to be a belief that the faster the lesson, the better

the learning. While pace is important – a slow lesson is likely to lose

pupils’ concentration – teachers too often concentrate on the pace of

their planned activities rather than the pace of learning. For example,

a teacher told an inspector that they had been advised that a starter

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activity should never last longer than 10 minutes. While this may be a

sensible starting point for discussion, the inspector’s view was that a starter

activity, like any other activity, needs to last only as long as is needed to

ensure effective learning. ‘

And about sticking rigidly to lesson plans:

‘An inflexible approach to planning lessons. School policies sometimes

insist that all lesson plans should always follow the same structure, no

matter what is being taught. In addition, evidence from the survey suggests

that teachers often feel that they should not alter their plans during the

lesson. The notion of a three- or four-part structure to lessons with certain

key elements, such as a lively starter activity and an opportunity to review

learning at the end, is helpful to teachers. However, teachers need to have

the confidence to depart from their plans if early indications are, for example,

that the pupils know more or less than the teacher had anticipated. The key

consideration should be the development of pupils learning rather than sticking

rigidly to a plan.’

These two extracts clearly align the exercising of professional judgement in the moment

with good professional practice. In doing so, the inert rubric of this assessment tool takes

on dynamic features, and not only for the teacher being observed; the observer is equally

required to exercise dynamic judgement about the practice they are assessing. The

recentness of this revised framework may explain the apparent conception of pace as an

absolute expressed in Rufus’ school. The recent inspection in Amy’s school however was

carried out using these guidelines which highlights the subjective nature of the assessment

process.

There is an interesting relationship between structure and agency, and extrinsic and intrinsic

motivation. On a simple level, structure can be seen as producing extrinsic motivation and

agency intrinsic. Structure and agency however, are not mutually exclusive, they exist, not

even simply side by side, but in a complex inter-relatedness and the balance between them

seems to be a crucial factor in how, or whether, they complement each other. A similar

balance is required of teachers between intrinsic and extrinsic motivation. The expectation

52

of politicians, inspectors, head teachers and others who scrutinise professional practice

seems to be that teachers will make use of the best of that which motivates them

intrinsically (children’s learning, enthusiasm, enjoyment, interest according to Rufus, Amy

and Robert) whilst also meeting certain extrinsic standards. Or, perhaps the expectation is

simpler than that; that teachers’ intrinsic motivations should be the same as the extrinsic

drivers. If this were the case, a teacher who reads the current iteration of performance

level descriptors against which their teaching is to be judged would see nothing for which

they are not already intrinsically motivated, and nothing which conflicts with their own

professional practice.

As we have seen, the most recent Ofsted literature includes emerging acknowledgement of

the importance of teachers’ professional judgements, and here lies an incongruity. The

instrument used to assess teacher capability now requires teachers to exercise their

judgement, both before and during lessons; but the apparatus of surveillance, of which that

instrument is a tool, discourages them from doing this. Or, to express it in terms of this

research, spotting and responding to TMs is a criteria for success in teaching observations,

but the process of being observed has the potential to obviate TMB.

53

Before drawing conclusions and making recommendations, and having devoted

considerable time to establishing what TMBs are, it is useful to pause for a moment and

consider what they are not.

Teachable Moment Behaviours are not:

A rejection of structures and protocols. A case for the legitimacy of spontaneity and

intuition in teaching is a case for professionalism, not laziness. The sensitive teacher, who is

aware of their pupils’ needs and responsive to their utterances, body language,

understandings or misunderstandings and open to their own inspiration in the moment,

works extremely hard in the moment. They may have come to rely on a particular set of

skills and dispositions which they make use of in action, but these are in addition to, not

instead of, the skills required to prepare for children’s learning in advance of lessons.

Capacity for openness and improvisation may lighten the burden of pre-lesson preparation,

but it does not replace it. As in Evans’ (2008) concept of Bounded Agency and Johnson-

Laird’s (1988) suggestion that structure facilitates creative thinking, the expert teacher uses

structures and protocols such as planning and assessment rather like a ship’s captain uses a

light house when sailing near hazardous coastline at night; as a point of reference for

mapping a route, as a source of knowledge which facilitates judgements and as a safety net

to inspire confidence. Similarly, planning for TMB development is not a call to disregarding

structures, hierarchies, scrutiny or constructive advice from others. Neither is it part of a

liberal agenda. I would argue, as Robert did that

“It is advanced teacher skills.”

and that TMBs play as important a role in children’s progression, development and learning

as do the protocols which can facilitate it.

Legitimising laziness. TMBs are demanding. They call on teachers to be ever present and

constantly sensitive to the dynamics of the learning environment. TMBs require teachers to

know their pupils well, as individuals and as learners. They demand attention to detail and

expert knowledge of the curriculum. Openness to new ideas and willingness to improvise,

take risks, innovate and adapt plans depend on use of working memory, multi-tasking and

creative thinking.

54

Indiscipline. Responding to TMs is not and should not be laissez-faire. Intuitions have to be

monitored and tested rigorously (Eraut, 2000). As Rufus, Amy and Robert suggested, the

professionalism in judging the TM is a filtration process for ideas and adaptations which

arise. The intuitive teacher knows when strategies or approaches are not working and

reflects on how or whether to employ them in the future. They maintain a professional

inner monologue which helps them to scrutinise their own judgements and decisions in

action, as well as before and after lessons.

Meaning-making for teachers rather than pupils. During the focus group discussion, when

asked to reflect on the value of spontaneous action in lessons, Robert said the following:

“I wonder if it’s just good for us though. Is this just something that teachers

like to do so that they don’t have to sit a plan for hours?”

This is an important question because it sharpens focus on the teacher’s raison d’etre and

challenges thinking about the benefit to children of teachers following their instincts. Put

another way, the question here is whether teacher autonomy actually supports children’s

learning and development. There is little doubt, based on this research, that greater

autonomy would enrich the professional lives of Rufus, Amy and Robert; and one could

argue that their views on this are representative of teachers generally, but is it enriching for

children? I believe the key to this is intrinsic motivation. If, as this study has led me to

believe, an appropriate degree of autonomy can unlock intrinsic motivation, then the

permission to judge, adapt, improvise, take risks and reflect in action (Schon, 1983) can be

of direct benefit to pupil engagement, enthusiasm and consequently their learning.

Without discipline however, teacher autonomy could be detrimental to children’s learning,

and here the familiar sentiments of Eleanor Roosevelt (1960) resonate; that freedom

demands a great deal from human beings, and brings with it responsibility.

A risk here for Head teachers and indeed the government, is whether teachers, if granted

more autonomy, will also exercise their responsibility to remain disciplined. Without this

TMBs could be all of the above. It cannot be stated with any certainty that all teachers, if

offered greater autonomy and motivated less by extrinsic factors, would become more

intrinsically motivated; however, based on the literature and the experiences shared by

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Rufus, Amy and Robert, it seems clear that the absence of autonomy in professional life is

likely to inhibit intrinsic motivation, and that this could adversely affect children’s school

experience. A key question here for head teachers is how teacher autonomy can most

effectively be facilitated and managed so as to encourage the best that TMBs have to offer

pupils and discourage the pitfalls described above.

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Conclusions:

Validity of TMs and TMBs

Robert raised a pivotal point about TMs and TMBs during the focus group discussion.

“I can’t make my mind up whether there is such a thing as the teachable

moment or whether it’s just such an integral, normal part of teaching that

actually, it’s not anything particularly special.”

Robert’s thinking here about whether TMs are actually events of particular consequence, or

TMBs actions of pedagogic substance, is useful in that it provides a place from which to

evaluate the value of improvised, intuitive teacher action. His suspicion that TMs and TMBs

are simply a given in everyday practice could stem from the fact that these practices are

reasonably embedded in his everyday teaching. Perhaps a teacher more reliant on

adherence to lesson plans would view TMs and TMBs as a greater novelty.

The question is a valid one nevertheless. Are TMs actually significant enough to children’s

learning and development to warrant this degree of analysis? I believe they are, Robert

agrees, however improvisation does appear to be a dying art in teaching; as he joked when

asked to list the traits of improvising teachers for task 1:

“What does the teachable moment teacher look like? They look like a

dinosaur because they’re extinct!”

Beneath the humour here lies a key observation about what is valued in current everyday

practice.

Skills and Dispositions of the TM teacher

TM teachers:

are pedagogically sensitive

can think on their feet

have confidence to try new ideas

know their pupils well

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excel under pressure

are comfortable with open-endedness and uncertainty

understand that learners do not all understand the world in the same way

trust their instincts

take risks

understand that a wide range of complex dynamics exist in classrooms

understand that learning involves many variables working together

know that they cannot control every variable

Teachable Moment Behaviour is expert teaching

The assertion made by Robert that exercising professional judgement is an advanced

teacher skill raises some interesting questions about the way expertise is conceived. His

conception is similar to that of Dreyfus, who also characterises expertise in terms of instinct

and judgement. This has certain implications for teacher professional development. Firstly,

if this is a key facet of expertise, then it is likely that teachers will develop towards this at

different rates. Secondly, teachers will develop this expertise to varying degrees. Thirdly,

some teachers may never achieve this level of expertise. Where my own conclusion

conflicts with Dreyfus’ rubric is in the suggestion that novices cannot possess this expertise.

I have met and worked with new teachers who rely comfortably on their instincts and

experienced teachers who are comparatively uncomfortable deviating from protocols and

plans. These are perhaps exceptions to the rule, however they point to the hypothesis that

experience is only one factor influencing teacher expertise. Amy, as a relative novice, acted

successfully in the moment to the clear benefit of her pupils.

Another conclusion relating to the expert nature of teacher improvisation is its suitability to

teaching and learning. Experiences shared by all three teachers point unequivocally to the

dynamism and unpredictability of the learning environment. An unpredictable system

requires dynamic, flexible and improvised responses. If children always acted and

responded to learning stimuli in expected or predictable ways, teachers would rarely, if

ever, need to adjust their plans or change tack. Judgements would largely be made in

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advance and teaching would be a clockwork-like process in which lessons unfolded

according to a preordained path. The reflections of Rufus, Amy and Robert demonstrate

that a very small proportion of lessons proceed in this way. Dynamic environments require

dynamic management. The expertise of the teacher here lies in their ability to respond

appropriately to the unpredictability of the classroom.

Experience and the Teachable Moment

One interesting question raised in the literature on intuition, expertise and creativity is how

these capacities and dispositions correlate with experience. Rufus, Amy and Robert

suggested that the principle role which experience plays in the TM is providing a repertoire

of previous decisions, judgements, actions and activities upon which to call. This does not

relegate TMB to simply plucking out old ideas at opportune moments, though a judgement

to reuse an effective idea at a particular moment is just that, a judgement. The teachers

attributed equal importance to life experience as to teaching experience, therefore this

repertoire which experience builds is more than simply a bank of lessons or activities. It

may include these things, but it is also more nuanced, more subtle and much more complex.

It involves teachers’ ability to connect the present moment with previous moments; to

interweave understanding about the ways in which children learn and develop with

knowledge of self and relationships with children. It includes a certain comfort with

uncertainty and an appreciation that not all variables in the dynamic terrain of the

classroom can be controlled by the teacher; something many teachers I have worked with

find uncomfortable.

Whether TMBs are reliant on experience has implications for continuing professional

development and initial teacher education. If making professional judgements, improvising

and other associated capacities are experience dependent then recommendations for

developing them may prove futile for pre-service and novice teachers. I believe TMBs are to

an extent experience related, but not experience dependent, by which I mean that

experience is one of many factors influencing behaviour. Others include personality, degree

of risk aversion, relationships with pupils, confidence and sense of permission to name a

59

few. These variables, along with many others, form the repertoire into which teachers may

delve in TMs.

One aspect of experience however which I do believe to be more closely related to TMBs is

TMBs themselves. My fourteen years experience in teaching leads me to conclude that the

more opportunities teachers seize to rely on their instincts, judgements and intuitions, the

more confident they will become in exercising them.

Development of Teachable Moment Behaviours: implications for CPD and ITE

I have already suggested that an effective way to develop TMBs would be to rehearse them.

By putting themselves in situations which require improvisation and judgement in the

moment, teachers will experience not only the judgements, intuitions and decisions

themselves but also the feelings and conditions associated with risk taking and uncertainty.

A key obstacle to this however, is risk aversion encouraged by the current culture of

surveillance in the profession. As Robert pointed out, observation and scrutiny brings out

conservatism in teachers.

In order to develop this expertise teachers need to feel permitted to make mistakes, to

make poor judgements and learn from them. The imperative for schools to be on a

constant upward improvement trajectory and for head teachers to demonstrate constant

pupil progress however, has resulted in the marginalisation of this permission. Newly

Qualified Teachers are required to be as proficient as their experienced colleagues on entry

to the profession, with little leeway given for taking risks, making mistakes or learning to

judge. This tendency, which negates the process of taking risks and learning from

experience and places the reflective process in potential jeopardy, also exists in Initial

Teacher Education; perhaps the very place where one might expect to find encouragement

for the practice of improvising or making and reflecting on judgements. The pressure on

students to demonstrate excellence against Professional Standards and increasing pressure

on ITE providers to increase their numbers of ‘Outstanding’ teacher training graduates have

resulted in further marginalisation of teacher expertise, as defined by Robert, even in the

training process.

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Recommendations:

Teachers could be encouraged to research their own practice. The action researcher takes

ownership of his or her subject matter, looks for opportunities to improve praxis,

implements change and modifies elements within his or her control. As Pignatelli (1993)

suggests, if teachers become engineers of research, developing an evidence base for their

action, they can make a more significant contribution to the process of defining best

practice, if not drive the process. This encouragement could take the form of a compulsory

research sabbatical every five or six years (Barber 1994) and could prove to be a more

empowering and useful demonstration of expertise than current hoops through which

teachers leap to reach higher pay scales, senior management and advanced skills status. A

key question for the improvising teacher is how one argues for the value of practices whose

outcomes cannot be easily evidenced and which cannot be easily replicated. Teacher action

research may be a useful tool here.

School inspection could be reconceived as a collaborative process rather than a

judgemental one. Whilst emphasis in Ofsted inspections has shifted a little in recent years

towards school self-evaluation, the relationship between Her Majesty’s Inspectors and

schools remains characterised by audit and managerialism akin to ‘policing’ (Woods &

Jefferies, 1998:548), and largely punitive. The balance is still tipped significantly in favour of

extrinsic motivation of teachers. As previously discussed, balancing extrinsic and intrinsic

influences can be seen as crucial for teachers in sustaining confidence and professional

judgement. Over-bearing extrinsic motivators can marginalise, or even extinguish intrinsic

drive.

There is an apparent contradiction here. Teachers and inspectors have the same goal, the

effective education of young people, and yet, as the evidence from Rufus, Amy and Robert

indicates, the two are not in partnership. There appears to be a clash of values (Woods &

Jeffrey, 1998) and, on the part of the teachers in this study, a significant sense of being

distrusted. Reconceived as a partnership between schools and the inspectorate,

improvements in teachers’ practice could be secured through discussion, negotiation and

reflection rather than summative judgement. Woods and Jeffrey (1996) describe how

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Ofsted inspections can lead to a gradual change in teacher self-identity, from professional to

technician; the professional being trusted to make professional judgements, the technician

expected to follow prescribed protocols and do as they are told. Densmore (1987) referred

to this as the proletarianization of the profession, from ‘blue collar’ to ‘white collar’.

Even a subtle shift in thinking about the purpose of school inspection, from ‘Quality Control’

to ‘Quality Assurance’ has the potential to positively change the dynamic between the

inspectorate and the profession. The former closed and suggestive of coercive power, the

latter more open. Since local authorities’ and head teachers’ in-house scrutiny approaches

tend to mirror those of Ofsted, a greater emphasis on partnership in pursuit of quality

teaching from Her Majesty’s Inspectors would be likely to have a knock-on effect on the

manner in which teachers are judged by their line managers.

Teacher education could do more to acknowledge the dynamic nature of teaching and

learning, offering support and guidance to students on how to improvise and make

confident professional judgements. Whilst acknowledging that it would be impossible to

directly teach ITE students how to think on their feet and make judgements, outside of the

classroom context, steps can be taken in university ITE programmes to encourage these

behaviours.

Firstly, ITE providers could do more to resist the urge to remodel their programmes in the

image of the current inspection regime with an over-emphasis on competence-based

approaches in which students are required to meet easily-measureable, tick box standards.

Pedagogical discourse could be favoured over coverage of assessment criteria and current

‘buzz word’ topics such as ‘pace.’ Secondly, teaching and learning could be discussed as a

process of dynamic interaction and exchange, not a series of fixed actions with fixed

outcomes. Thirdly, ITE students should be required to teach unplanned lessons and

encouraged to engage in reflective evaluation of their own spontaneous judgement and

TMBs in the classroom. The balance here between workplace learning and critical

reflection, between the affective and social domains, and the cognitive domain Beckett and

Hager (2010) is important. Fourthly, providers should offer workshops in developing

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classroom presence, verbal and non-verbal communication, vocal techniques, interpersonal

skills and improvisation to support the development of teacher confidence.

63

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Appendix A

Teachable Moment Checklists and Professional Logs

Rufus

Amy

Robert

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Appendix B

Focus Group Discussion Questions:

What were the most common TMs in your experience of this process?

Are there any factors which enabled or inhibited you in responding to TMs?

What, if anything, is the value of noticing and responding to TMs?

How did it feel to watch your back your videoed lesson?

What did you notice about yourself?

Task 1:

Compile a list together of 5 key attributes a teacher would need in order to make the most of TMs.

Task 2:

What characteristics would the TM school have?

Some definitions of what it means to be professional place autonomy at the top of the list. What do you think about this?

Have you learned anything about yourselves as teachers through this process?

What were the strengths and weaknesses of the process?

Appendix C

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Responses to Task 1:

5 key attributes a teacher would need in order to make the most of TMs.

1. Confidence

2. Creativity

3. Flexibility

4. Broad interests and knowledge

5. Uniqueness

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Appendix D

Responses to Task 2:

What characteristics would the TM school have?

1. Allows autonomy

2. Trusts teachers

3. High level of quality resources

4. Environment constantly changing

5. Children learning throughout the environment

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