What is high challenge teaching?

This post appears in in Schools Week:

“A question for you: What does high challenge teaching look like?”

“Oh, easy answer: make the work harder”

“OK, another question – what is harder work?”

“Er… more difficult work?”

“And what is the nature of more difficult work?”

“[now trying desperately to break out of synonym soup] I suppose work which moves pupils on further and faster…”

“And how does the work achieve this?

“Umm… by being highly challenging?”

We were asked the first question at one of our regular trust Curriculum and Assessment Group meetings. Perhaps aware that playing with synonyms wasn’t going to take us any nearer to a useful definition, we didn’t spend time on this game!

We were also unlikely to attempt to define challenge by using descriptions of good summative performance.  In so doing, as  Christodoulou explains, we simply confuse ‘the description of a phenomenon with its explanation’.  Sure, an observer with subject expertise could decide a class must have been challenged because of the high quality of their work but if we define high challenge by what it achieves (described in summative level descriptions) we move no closer to defining what teaching that challenges looks like or what tasks provide the challenge that will lead to great performance in a summative assessment. Giving our own pupils these summative descriptions of their academic destination also moves them no closer to understanding the route to get there.

So we cannot define what high challenge teaching looks like by describing more successful outcomes. Perhaps we can reach a better answer by identifying the sorts of tasks that do move children on ‘further, faster’ as being ‘high challenge’. On the face of it this seems quite straightforward: “I will give my history class tasks that require them to really struggle with difficult concepts and explain those ideas in increasingly analytical extended writing.”

But this definition is flawed in several ways:

  1. Challenge varies by subject. Increasingly analytical extended writing won’t provide the requisite ‘high challenge’ in maths. The tasks that push pupils ‘further, faster’ vary enormously by subject. It seems the moment I use specific tasks to define challenge I have to abandon any non-subject specific description of ‘high challenge’.
  1. It goes beyond tasks. Surely in history the range and specificity of the knowledge students can deploy (a key summative descriptor of quality) will depend in part on the quality of prior teacher explanations? I’m going to have to abandon the attempt to define ‘high challenge’ just through the tasks pupils do.
  1. Challenge ≠ struggle. Does moving pupils ‘further, faster’ have to involve ‘struggle’ or difficulty? I’m very familiar with Direct Instruction programmes for literacy and maths and they are highly successful despite being designed to introduce new learning in easy, incrementally tiny steps. There is progress with no struggle. Working memory theory from psychology suggests cognitive overload is a threat to learning when tasks are complex which means struggle can be a bad thing.
  1. It’s about the process. My description of a ‘high challenge’ history task is not specific enough anyway. It is still really a summative description of success. What prior work would make success in this particular analytical task more likely? As Christodoulou points out ‘the process of acquiring skills is different from the product’.

The term ‘high challenge’ is often unhelpfully associated with the experience of struggle. Perhaps a class will feel challenged as they grapple with a complex text, assimilate detail or force themselves to knuckle down and learn when they aren’t in the habit of revising. However, a strong teacher explanation of a difficult concept and its use in different contexts might feel painless. The important practice of learning times tables to automaticity might even feel too easy.

I’ve realised that it is impossible to meaningfully define ‘high challenge’ in any general way. Summative descriptions simply define the outcome and the suitability of tasks is entirely context dependent. Observations can look at outcomes but teachers must simply use their expertise to ask themselves what actions will most efficaciously move their class forward ‘further, faster’ at any given time.

'May I be excused? The pressure is getting to me.'

The ‘quite tidy garden’ …or why level descriptors aren’t very helpful.

Dear Josh,

Thank you for agreeing to sort out our garden over your long holiday. As we’ll be away all summer here is a guide that tells you all you need to know to get

from this…

…to this

STEP A: You should begin by assessing the garden to decide its level. Read through these level descriptors to decide:

Level 1: Your garden is very overgrown. Any lawn has not been mown for some years. Shrubs have not been pruned for a considerable period. There are no visible beds and typically there will be large areas taken over by brambles and or nettles. There will probably be an abandoned armchair (or similar worn out furniture) somewhere in the overgrowth as well as assorted rubble and the old concrete base from a fallen shed. Boundary fencing will have collapsed.

Level 2: Your garden is just a little overgrown. The lawn is patchy though neglect and has only been mown sporadically. Shrubs generally have not been pruned recently. Beds look neglected and are not well stocked. There may be various forms of old rubbish abandoned in the far corners of the garden along with old lawn clippings and hedge trimmings. Boundary fences are in disrepair.

Level 3: Your garden is well tended. Lawns are mown regularly and contain no moss and weeds and shrubs are regularly pruned. Flower beds are well demarcated and contain no weeds. They are well stocked with appropriate bedding plants. The garden is quite tidy and boundary fencing is new and strong.

STEP B:

Josh, if you decide the garden is Level 1 (that is certainly our view) then I suggest you look at the Level 2 descriptor to guide you as to your next steps. It is clear that you need to move the garden from ‘very overgrown’ to ‘just a little overgrown’. For example, in a Level 1 garden, shrubs ‘have not been pruned for a considerable period’. You need to move on from that to a Level 2 garden where ‘shrubs have not been pruned recently’. The lawn needs to move from having ‘not been mown for some years’ to Level 2 ‘has only been mown sporadically’. Aim to move the boundary fencing on from Level 1 ‘will have collapsed’ to Level 2 ‘in disrepair’.  To move on from Level 1 for rubbish, for example, you’ll need to move that old armchair to a far corner of the garden.

STEP C:

Now move the garden from Level 2 to Level 3. This means you should ensure the garden is ‘well tended’ rather than ‘a little overgrown’. What useful advice!

Using level descriptors makes it so clear for you doesn’t it? Hubby is trying to insist that I also leave you his instructions but they are hopeless as he doesn’t understand that you need to know your next steps to make progress in gardening. He’s written reams and reams of advice including instructions like:

‘You’ll find the strimmer in the garage’

‘Start by clearing all the nettles’

‘Ken will come and help you shift the concrete’

‘The tip is open from 10-4 at weekends’

‘Marion next door can advise you about the best bedding plants to buy’

His instructions are just too specific to our garden. To learn the gardening skills that will achieve a Level 3 garden what you need is to really know your next level targets. I won’t confuse you by leaving you his nonsense!

We’ll see you in September and in the meantime we wish you happy gardening!

 

With apologies to any actual gardeners out there who know what they are talking about and enormous thanks to Daisy Christodoulou whose recent book helped me appreciate just why we shouldn’t use level descriptors as feedback. 

The Secret Of My (Maths) Success

Over half term some good friends visited. I had an interesting chat with Dan, who is in his fifties and gained a first in maths through the OU a few years ago. He’s just done a PGCE as a maths teacher and has been trained to build understanding through plenty of problem solving tasks.

The discussion made me reflect on the stark difference between the way I’ve taught maths to my own children at home, with the lion’s share of time spent learning to fluency, and the focus in schools on exercises to build understanding. After all, I reflected, the progress of my children has stunned even me. How is it they missed out on SO much work on understanding while accelerating far ahead of their peers?

It isn’t that I don’t appreciate that children need some degree of understanding of what they are doing. I remember when I discovered that the reason my friend’s daughter was struggling with maths at the end of Year 1 was because she had failed to grasp that crucial notion of ‘one more’. Her teacher had advised that she needed to learn her number bonds (and indeed she did) but while she did not grasp this basic notion the bonds were gibberish to her. What we call ‘understanding’ does matter (more thoughts here).

I’ve realised the reason I’ve never had to invest significant time in exercises to build understanding. It is because when my children are given a new sort of problem they can already calculate the separate parts of that problem automatically. All their working memory is focused on the only novel element of a procedure and so it is very quickly understood. Understanding is just not a biggy. Identify the knowledge necessary to calculate the component parts of a problem and get fluency in those and generally activities for understanding become a (crucial but) small part the maths diet.

The degree of focus on fluency that my children were given is highly unusual. I have huge piles of exercise books full of years of repeated calculations continued a year, two years, after they were first learned. My children learnt all possible addition and subtraction facts between one and twenty until they were known so well that recall was like remembering your own name. I did the same with multiplication and division facts. There were hours and hours and hours and hours of quite low level recall work.

Generally the the focus in schools is the opposite and this creates a vicious cycle. Children are taught more complex problems when they are not fluent in the constituent parts of the problem. Therefore they struggle to complete calculations because their working memory breaks down. The diagnosis is made that children don’t ‘understand’ the problem posed. The cure is yet more work focused on allowing children to understand how the problem should be solved and why. The children may remember this explanation (briefly) but it is too complex to be remembered long term as too many of the constituent elements of the problem are themselves not secure. When the children inevitably forget the explanation what is the diagnosis? – a failure of understanding. Gradually building ‘understanding’ eats more and more lesson time. Gurus of the maths world deride learning to fluency as ‘rote’ but perversely the more time is spent on understanding instead of fluency, the harder it is for children to understand new learning. By comparison my children seem to have a ‘gift that keeps on giving’. Their acceleration isn’t just in the level of maths proficiency they have reached it is in the capacity they have to learn new maths so much more easily.

gift_keep_giving_13Fluency… the gift that keeps on giving.

I’ve not got everything right but I’ve learned so much from teaching my own children including that the same general principle is true of understanding maths and understanding history. If understanding is a struggle it is because necessary prior knowledge is not in place or secure.

Go back – as far as you can get away with.

Diagnose those knowledge gaps.

Teach and secure fluency.

You’ll find understanding is no longer the same challenge.

Knowledge organisers: fit for purpose?

Definition of a knowledge organiser: Summary of what a student needs to know that must be fitted onto an A4 sheet of paper.

Desk bins: Stuff I Don't Need to Know...
Desk bins: Stuff I Don’t Need to Know…

If you google the term ‘knowledge organisers’ you’ll find a mass of examples. They are on sale on the TES resource site – some sheets of A4 print costing up to £7.50. It seems knowledge organisers have taken off. Teachers up and down the country are beavering away to summarise what needs to be known in their subject area.

It is good news that teachers are starting to think more about curriculum. More discussion of the ‘what’ is being taught, how it should be sequenced and how it can be remembered is long overdue. However, I think there is a significant weakness with some of these documents. I looked at lots of knowledge organisers to prepare for training our curriculum leaders and probably the single biggest weakness I saw was a confusion over purpose.

 

I think there are three very valid purposes for knowledge organisers:

  1. Curriculum mapping – for the TEACHER

Identifying powerful knowledge, planning to build schemas, identifying transferable knowledge and mapping progression in knowledge.

  1. For reference – for the PUPIL

In place of a textbook or a form of summary notes for pupils to reference.

  1. A list of revision items – for the PUPIL (and possibly the parents)

What the teacher has decided ALL pupils need to know as a minimum at the end of the topic.

 

All three purposes can be valid but when I look at the mass of organisers online I suspect there has often been a lack of clarity about the purpose the knowledge organiser is to serve.

Classic confusions of purpose:

  1. Confusing a curriculum mapping document with a reference document:

A teacher sits down and teases out what knowledge seems crucial for a topic. As they engage in this crucial thinking they create a dense document full of references that summarises their ideas. So far so good…but a document that summarises a teacher’s thinking is unlikely to be in the best format for a child to use. The child, given this document, sees what looks like a mass of information in tiny text, crammed onto one sheet of A4. They have no real notion of which bits to learn, how to prioritise the importance of all that detail or apply it. This knowledge is self-evident to the teacher but not the child.

  1. Confusing a knowledge organiser with a textbook:

Teachers who have written textbooks tell me that there is a painstaking editorial process to ensure quality. Despite this there is a cottage industry of teachers writing series of knowledge organisers which amount to their own textbooks. Sometimes this is unavoidable. Some textbooks are poor and some topics aren’t covered in the textbooks available. Perhaps sometimes the desperate and continual begging of teachers that their school should prioritise the purchase of textbooks falls on deaf ears and teachers have no choice but to spend every evening creating their own textbooks photocopied on A4 paper…

…but perhaps we all sometimes need to remind ourselves that there is no virtue in reinventing the wheel.

  1. Confusing a textbook with summary notes:

The information included on an A4 sheet of paper necessarily lacks the explanatory context contained in a textbook or detailed notes. If such summaries are used in place of a textbook or detailed notes the student will lack the explanation they need to make sense of the detail.

  1. Confusing a reference document or notes with a list of revision items for a test

If we want all pupils to acquire mastery of some basics we can list these basic facts we have identified as threshold knowledge in a knowledge organiser. We can then check that the whole class know these facts using a test. The test requires the act of recall which also strengthens the memory of these details in our pupils’ minds.

Often, however, pupils are given reference documents to learn. In this situation the details will be too extensive to be learnt for one test. It is not possible to expect the whole class to know everything listed and so the teacher cannot ensure that all pupils have mastered some identified ‘threshold’ facts. Weaker students will be very poor at recognising what are the most important details they should focus on learning, poor at realising what is likely to come up in a test and the format in which it will be asked. Many will also find a longer reference document contains an overwhelming amount of detail and give up. The chance to build self-efficacy and thus self-esteem has been lost.

 

If you are developing knowledge organisers to facilitate factual testing then your focus is on Purpose C – creating a list of revision items. Below is a list of criteria I think are worth considering:

  1. Purpose (to facilitate mastery testing of a list of revision items)
  • Exclude knowledge present for the benefit of teacher
  • Exclude explanatory detail which should be in notes or a textbook.
  1. Amount
  • A short topic’s worth (e.g. two weeks teaching at GCSE)
  • An amount that all in the class can learn
  • Careful of expectations that are too low and if necessary ramp up demand once habit in place.
  1. Threshold or most ‘powerful’ knowledge
  • Which knowledge is necessary for the topic?
  • Which knowledge is ‘collectively sufficient’ for the topic?
  • Which knowledge will allow future learning of subsequent topics?
  • Which knowledge will best prompt retrieval of chunks of explanatory detail?
  • CUT any extraneous detail (even if it looks pretty)
  • Include relevant definitions, brief lists of factors/reasons arguments, quotes, diagrams and summaries etc.
  • Check accuracy (especially when adapting internet finds)
  1. Necessary prior knowledge
  • Does knowledge included in the organiser presume grasp of other material unlikely to yet be mastered?
  1. Concise wording
  • Is knowledge phrased in the way you wish it to be learned?

Happy knowledge organising!

 

Compartments

As I scrolled my twitter timeline the other day I was drawn in by a tweet written by a teacher at Michaela School in Brent. It contained a photo of a beaming Year 9 student. The girl was in the school playground very proudly holding up a copy of a book titled ‘The Malay Archipelago’.

The tweet read:

 
“This pupil arrived in UK 4 years ago without Eng. Now she’s reading ‘Malay Archipelago’ by A.R. Wallace. Rushed over to show me her fave page!”

 
It was the lovely smile that did it. Oh sweet! I thought. Sure, there was nothing so very unusual in a child enjoying a quality book but there was something so heartwarming in the thought of this girl skipping across the playground to share her book with her teacher that I could understand why the teacher had shared the event.
I wondered what she had been reading so I googled it:

 

malayThe Malay Archipelago
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

The Malay Archipelago is a book by the British naturalist Alfred Russel Wallace that chronicles his scientific exploration, during the eight-year period 1854 to 1862.

 

 

 

Wow! Now I was REALLY impressed. As one teenager, myself as was, (hooked on 19thC literature) to another (intrigued by 19thC science writing) I saluted her taste! More than that – I acknowledged all that Michaela School, an inner city school with a tough intake, had achieved to create a culture in which this sort of event was likely. I’ve visited Michela. In the morning on the tube, on my way to the school, I saw Michaela kids reading their books as they travelled in. When I arrived I found out about all the policies in place to raise reading ages way beyond normal expectations and the carefully chosen knowledge curriculum that gave children genuine access to more difficult texts. My own daughter is the same age and goes to a lovely school but, goodness, it doesn’t quite have the reading culture Michaela has created. Perhaps Michaela isn’t unique but I was impressed and tweeted this:

 
“Brilliant work. @MCSBrent throws down the gauntlet to the rest of us. If they can make this happen so can we all.”

 
I, rather naively, hadn’t anticipated the barrage of negativity my little tweet of admiration would create. Apparently, according to some on twitter, there was nothing unusual about this little event. Many, many schools across the land achieve similar every single day. Yeah, sure thing I thought. Who hasn’t come across Year 9 kids reading the original works of nineteenth century explorers? Normal, normal, normal.

 
Then after reading a few more rather unfriendly twitter notifications the penny finally dropped… The readers of my original tweet hadn’t even noticed the title of the book this girl was reading. They had totally misunderstood the point I was making because they had seen one acronym:

 
EAL

 
…and got no further. The sight of this term had compartmentalised any interpretation of my tweet as a comment on…

‘Work With EAL’.

That this child had been reading for pleasure showed the success of…

‘Literacy Policies For EAL’

and presumably this could be measured on some EAL progress spreadsheet somewhere.

How tragic that this is the mentality our education system creates. Why weren’t these angry tweeters actually interested in WHAT a child (whatever her background) had been reading?

Surely the most notable aspect of the little tweet story I’d shared was NOT that an EAL student had read a book? Wasn’t it obviously more noteworthy to teachers that a 13 year old had got beyond reading pre-teen romances and made a foray into the syntactically dense but beautifully turned phrases of Victorian writing? Wasn’t it of most educational interest that she had delved into some original scientific observation?

 

Surely the quality of the literature a child is reading is of more educational interest than her background and the particular label she has been given in a progress spreadsheet?

 
Terms like EAL or even ‘literacy’ only have meaning in so far as they help us discuss how we can help children learn the actual, specific content we want to teach them. My twitter notifications over the last few days starkly illustrate how labels designed to help teachers do their job better can so often lead to the compartmentalising of children and a focus on means (EAL provision) over ends (a child learning something great).

Reading fluency and the ‘Tragedy of the Commons’

Is reading fluency important for academic success?

I’d imagine everyone reading this would agree it was very important – crucial in fact.

This description from Quirky Teacher of many children’s reading in year 6 must sound quite familiar to secondary teachers:

I am worried that children in KS2, despite being officially ‘able to read’, are still not really fluent, even when they get to year 6. When you ask them to read to you, they stumble slowly through a text, sometimes randomly substituting trickier and new words, never able to add intonation and not really getting the bigger picture.

As I outlined in my post yesterday that does not mean that at secondary level we ensure children get enough daily reading practice to ensure our students DO read fluently. One reason for this is that the need for bulk practice is not appreciated. There is another reason why, even when the importance of sustained reading is acknowledged, children still don’t end up with enough practice to become fluent readers. This reason can be explained using the economic principle of ‘The Tragedy of the Commons’.

What is this principle?

I like using this cartoon to explain the principle when teaching my A level politics students (about ecologism).

tragedy-of-the-commons

The tragedy of the commons is an economic theory of a situation within a shared-resource system where individual users acting independently according to their own self-interest behave contrary to the common good of all users by depleting that resource through their collective action.

At secondary level the ultimate goal of subject teachers is to ensure their students learn their subject, biology, geography, RE etc, probably measured through their success in public examinations. Aside from the ultimate benefit to the pupil, if children are fluent readers it helps all teachers achieve the academic goals they have for their students and therefore no teacher would quibble that reading fluency is important.  The reading fluency is a ‘common good’- a shared resource that benefits all teachers as they teach their subject to the student. However, that does NOT mean it benefits the individual teacher to focus on reading fluency. If you look at the wiki definition above, rather than gaining an individual advantage from ‘depleting’ a resource, subject teachers gain an advantage by not adding to a shared resource. It takes valuable lesson time away from subject learning to focus on building the commonly shared resource – fluent reading. I’ll explain using an example from my own teaching:

I want my year 9 students to learn about the 1916 Battle of the Somme. After a series of lessons the class will write an essay on whether the Somme was entirely a disaster. As a subject teacher I will get the most reward from getting the best possible essays as quickly and painlessly as possible. SO should I cover the key detail on the Somme by:

  1. Using a great article I found on the internet. I can abridge it to ensure that while it challenges the students it is accessible. I know this article covers the ground well but it will take a long time to read and the students won’t exactly be enthralled that they are doing lots of reading.
  2. Use a documentary from Youtube that covers all the issues in full technicolour and takes half the time the article would. Hey – we can practice note taking!
  3. Play some sort of fact finding games. Not as effective to get the content across as the article but it will look great if you are observed as the class will love it. They’ll walk out of the lesson saying they prefer history to geography. This means they’ll probably work harder on their history essay and opt for the subject at GCSE.

Let’s be honest. How often do we opt for A because we know it serves the greater good? The common goal of reading fluency is inevitably sacrificed. I don’t think individual teachers should be blamed for this. The incentives are all wrong. How many teachers can get by on a warm glow of self-righteousness when other teachers and other subjects get better results, no one opts for your subject at GCSE and the kids complain that (comparatively) your lessons are boring. We are far more likely to kid ourselves that what amounts to a tokenistic amount of reading is ‘doing our bit’ because we’re not into career suicide.

So what should be done? As my A level politics students know – this is an argument for centralised control. The incentives need to be changed by those with the power to do so – SLT. If sustained reading is the norm in ALL lessons then students just get used to it and will start to read the amount necessary each day to become fluent.

Perhaps this shift towards more sustained reading can be achieved as at Michaela School by having a quite centralised control over the materials used in class. Perhaps SLT can agree with subject departments a notional number of words a week that need to be read in each subject, as appropriate (i.e. not appropriate for maths!). Maybe lesson observation can be used or book scrutinies can look for evidence that there has been very regular sustained reading at the right level of challenge. Ultimately, a sensible, intelligently implemented,  way needs to be found to end what amounts to a ‘tragedy of the commons’.

Why can’t our students read fluently?

Lots of children learn to read well despite very poor or minimal teaching. I think I was probably one of those children. I don’t think my mum ever listened to me read but somehow I now read fluently. I remember seeing my big sister chuckling over an Enid Blyton Image result for child reading blytonand feeling jealous because I couldn’t read and then I remember being able to read Blyton myself. I think I must have read constantly from about the age of six to twelve only surfacing for school lessons. With my sister I spent every Saturday in the children’s section of the local library. I had a long walk home from school and I would hitch my bag straps over my forehead to allow me to read my latest volume as I dawdled along the pavement.
At first sight my experience does seem to suggest that motivation provides the key to growing a strong reader and that is certainly the assumption of our schools. I disagree.

There are, in fact, many factors that make it more likely that children will read well, the area is very well researched, but perhaps the most crucial factor tends to be overlooked – bulk practice. Surely, you may say, we all know children need to read lots. Schools bend over backwards to encourage children to read lots. I’m not so sure we really DO appreciate the importance of bulk practice for reading fluency OR that we do the right things to ensure that this practice happens.
At the heart of the problem is the faulty supposition that the only lever teachers have is exhortation. The assumption seems to be that we must persuade our children that reading is fun and if they won’t listen we just throw our hands up and bewail the situation or embark on ever more elaborate campaigns to entice reluctant readers to open a book. Motivation is important. We do want to ensure our children have good role models, attractive environments and great reading options. Schools are right to ensure these elements are in place. I think though that we forget that it is not motivation that grows a reader – it is reading that grows a reader – bulk reading. The world renowned reading researcher Keith Stanovich calls this the ‘Matthew Effect’.
It is true that I was motivated to read but that is hardly surprising when you consider that my unusual childhood involved no computer screens, no television, no after school activities; nothing to provide higher gratification than I could gain, aged six, from puzzling out the letters that let me into the world of St Clare’s and the hilarious tricks the girls played on their French mistress. I had nothing ‘better’ to do and so I read in bulk. Can we simply cross our fingers that children today, faced with a plethora of instant forms of gratification, will be persuaded to persist with a book?

Image result for child on a screen

One way or another children need to read enough words in a day, a week, a month, a year, to attain fluency. As Quirky Teacher pointed out in a recent blog, at primary level the typical group reading sessions involve very little sustained reading (see here also). At secondary levels teachers try and cut the amount of reading in lessons, using other mediums to make the subject learning more accessible. Thus in the average school day a child does not encounter anything like the number of words they need to read to become fluent readers. To be blunt, currently the education provided through school alone is not adequate to create fluent readers.
The fascinating work of the late Jeanne Chall suggests this drive for accessibility has been very counterproductive. She found that in America schools had been gradually reducing the reading age of subject textbooks to make learning more accessible which correlated with a decline in reading ages. Chall suggested that, as children were less challenged, the reading ages of children gradually dropped, creating a negative spiral in which textbook publishers continued to lower the challenge of text to keep up with the falling reading age of the students.
Children need to read lots because the vast majority of the vocabulary children encounter in text is not used in everyday speech. Written communication follows different conventions to the spoken word. However, even those children who do enjoy some David Walliams aren’t therefore being exposed to more academic forms of writing which build the stamina for engaging with more abstract texts that children will need if they are to succeed academically (as I explain here.) For this they need to engage with the more academic forms of writing they should repeatedly encounter at school.

Whatever children may choose to read should be a bonus. Something as crucial as reading fluency should not be dependent on whether we can cajole children to read for pleasure.  In their schooling they should encounter enough text, fiction and subject based, at the right level of challenge, to ensure they progress towards becoming fluent readers. This may be partly through initiatives like ‘Drop Everything And Read’ although for weaker readers this won’t help –they need more time reading with an adult. Not much of this bulk reading should be in maths or PE lessons BUT sustained reading should be a normal part of most lessons – including science, geography, business and RE etc. At one school (which many on the blogosphere may have heard of it) children read ten thousand words a day. I’ll repeat that with emphasis TEN THOUSAND WORDS A DAY! I think we can rest assured that Michaela school is growing fluent readers! I’d suggest that in most schools children don’t come anywhere near this total. When children present as struggling readers it would be interesting to investigate just how much bulk practice they have had in the past. I’d bet quite a lot that it was not very much!

For a very clear and more detailed outline of the problems of primary see this.