I have written and spoken at length about simplification. In short, I have come to believe that a knowledge curriculum simplifies everything we do as teachers. Rather than considering engagement, entertainment, or pupil interest, a knowledge curriculum relentlessly and ruthlessly prioritises kids learning stuff in the most effective way: that is, reading it, writing about it, and being quizzed on it.
In my past life, here are some ways I assessed pupil learning:
- Painstakingly marked their books with lengthy written targets for improvement that pupils responded to
- As above, but for essays and assessments
- Used spurious National Curriculum levels to denote the level the child appeared to be writing at
- Developed an assessment ladder based on vague descriptors provided by GCSE exam boards to denote how far a child was from the GCSE expectations
- Had pupils complete multiple choice exams which, having sweated over making, I would then have to mark
- Had pupils swap books with one another to write insightful comments such as: ‘good work. Next time, write more’
- Asked pupils to tell their partner what they know about a topic
- Asked pupils to write a mind-map of what they know about a topic
- Asked pupils to make a presentation of what they know about a topic
Not only are the above techniques unnecessarily complicated, they almost never gave me any useful information about what my kids could do.
At Michaela, we ask the kids questions constantly. Every lesson begins with two to five practice drills. In English, this would consist of two or more of the following:
- A spelling test
- A vocabulary test
- A grammar drill
- A gap-fill on a poem the pupils are memorizing
- Knowledge questions on a previous unit
- Knowledge questions on the current unit
We then read some material, and ask the pupils questions to ensure they have understood. The pupils then answer some questions about the material. We then go over the questions as a whole class, and pupils edit their responses using the whole-class feedback. For a lengthier piece of writing, I would use a half-page of feedback as outlined in my post ‘Giving Feedback the Michaela Way.’
For our bi-annual exams, pupils write an essay or, in subjects like Science or Maths, complete an exam paper that tests their ability to apply their knowledge. They also complete two to five ‘knowledge exams,’ which are simply open answer questions about everything they have learned that year. (Example questions from English could be: ‘What is a simile? When did Queen Elizabeth die? When was Macbeth first performed and where?’) We don’t painstakingly mark every paper – instead we sort them swiftly into three piles: A, B and C. A quick glance can tell us how a pupil has done – lots of gaps is a C, a sample glance at a number of correct answers and all questions attempted with a well-worked extension an A; everything in the middle a B.
The reason we can assess so simply is that in a knowledge curriculum there is a correct answer. There are, though we love to deny it, right and wrong things to say about literature. At Michaela, we are explicit about this. When I asked for pupil inferences about Curley’s wife in Of Mice and Men in my previous school, I remember asking them what the colour red could symbolise. Their answer, ‘jam,’ was simply wrong. What we do at Michaela is to codify the knowledge we want the pupils to learn, teach that knowledge, and then relentlessly test that knowledge.