There are few terms I dislike more in education than “low ability”. It’s a horrible, vague, clumsy pairing of words that defines a pupil based on nothing but a slither of their selves.
But recently, I’ve been just as infuriated at the rise of two other terms in educational conversation: illiteracy and innumeracy.
The spark for more mainstream usage of both - in the media, in conversations and even in schools - has been the government’s use of them. Education secretary Nadhim Zahawi’s utilisation of these terms back in October was rightly criticised. But they resurfaced again in the levelling up White Paper, which boldly claims illiteracy and innumeracy will be “eliminated”.
What was actually meant in the use of these words was not what you or I might assume. Rather than it meaning there were children who could not read at all nor complete any basic mathematical tasks, the government definition of being illiterate or innumerate was not meeting the expected standard in the Sats.
Inaccurate labels
As many teachers have pointed out, this is a ridiculous basis on which to label children with these terms. As many Year 6 teachers have explained, the difference between a child just under and just over the threshold is negligible. And then, of course, as the distance from the threshold grows, you don’t get a cliff edge after which the alphabetic and number codes become impenetrable. Instead, you get a gentle curve of lessening attainment by that particular measure. Very, very few children are genuinely illiterate or innumerate.
The usage of the terminology being inaccurate is just one of many problems with the government’s choice of words, though.
For example, labelling a huge section of the school population illiterate and innumerate is not exactly a ringing endorsement of two of the focal points of education policy during the past 10 years: phonics and maths mastery. If children really are illiterate and innumerate, then surely the first step for ministers should be to look at why these totems of the Gibbian approach haven’t worked.
Of course, it’s unarguable that those interventions actually have had an impact, but the government language suggests otherwise, so where does that leave those policies? (Interestingly, Zahawi had his knuckles rapped for this language for this reason, as Charlotte Santry uncovered in her profile of the education secretary last month.)
Poor motivation
Another reason why the language is poorly chosen is that it does little to motivate teachers or their pupils to engage with the government on their agenda. The lack of knowledge - or selected ignorance - implicit in the use of the terminology suggests that the DfE has little grasp of the reality in schools, and so any intervention announced should be greeted with the greatest cynicism (and yes, I realise they are a lot of the time anyway).
It also suggests teachers are not doing their jobs properly or that pupils are lost causes. Neither is true - and I don’t believe the DfE really believes it, either - but the language infers it. Why would a primary teacher want to listen to the government with that slur ringing in their ears?
And a third reason? It’s blatant spin. It reeks of a political need to force the issue and make the message “simple”, with no care for consequences.
It all amounts to such a wasted opportunity. Because, in reality, there is a conversation to be had about literacy and numeracy in this country.
There are valid questions about why some children are reaching secondary school unable to cope with the demands of the curriculum because of their literacy and numeracy skills. There are needed discussions about how we measure literacy and numeracy in schools, and whether those metrics judge the methodology of teaching or the real-world skillset of an individual. And there are necessary interrogations of how we ensure that whatever the background of a child, we can fill their world with enough words and numbers that they can progress as their peers do.
Using the terms illiteracy and numeracy doesn’t help us have these debates. They don’t take us closer to our goals, which interestingly are the same across government and schools. Instead, they take us much further away.
