Category: Teaching and Learning

Teaching, Profit, and the Stories We Tell to Stay Comfortable.

There is an old saying that people do not like seeing laws or sausages being made.

For teachers, the same could be said of wealth generation.

Teaching is imbued with a public sector ideology. It is labour that transcends renumeration; work that’s a calling, not a demand. The children, after all, are our future. But can teachers in the private sector be squeamish about supporting, even actively increasing their school’s wealth creation? Is there a friction between whether teaching is caught between public sector virtue and private sector profit propagation?

When I was a social worker, a not insignificant part of the job satisfaction came from being paid by the taxpayer. I was answerable to the community I served. This is a narrow view of course, but it was the uranium rod of truth that powered my ethics and beliefs.

And like social work, teaching is often imagined as sitting above ordinary economic logic. It is framed as a public good, a moral practice, a form of labour whose value exceeds its price. Teachers do not do it “for the money”. Education, we are told, is not a commodity. These ideas are repeated so often that they begin to feel like truths rather than choices.

And they are powerful truths. A good teacher rarely leaves your memory, and their instruction quietly shapes the futures of young people across the world – and can you really put a price on that?

Take that same ideology, however, and deliberately structure it for wealth creation—for private equity firms, individuals, or publicly listed companies—and it is hardly surprising that some teachers begin to feel a strain.

This should be caveated. Many of these same teachers have chosen to take their skills into a labour market—often overseas—that offers higher remuneration than state school wages and, in some cases, a better quality of life. To paraphrase my favourite line from the 1994 Kevin Smith movie ‘Clerks’, when a character is challenged about the innocent lives lost when the Death Star is destroyed:

“They knew what they were getting into. They knew who they were working for.”

Still, I don’t want to be disingenuous to private schools. This isn’t a class rant, certainly not from someone who is happily employed at one.

Teaching carries a powerful moral inheritance. It is one of the few professions still routinely described in vocational terms: service, care, dedication, sacrifice. That inheritance matters. It protects teaching from being reduced to a transaction and teachers from being treated as interchangeable service workers.

But moral inheritance also carries constraints. It shapes what can be said out loud.

In particular, it creates discomfort around money. To speak too openly about efficiency, cost, productivity or return on investment risks sounding crude, even unethical. The language of markets is tolerated at the edges of educational discourse, but rarely allowed into its moral centre.

This makes a certain sense in the public sector, where education is explicitly funded as a collective good. It becomes more complicated when teaching takes, even actively takes place inside private institutions.

Private schools are not naïve about economics. They must recruit, retain, invest, compete and plan for long-term sustainability. Fees do not simply maintain buildings; they fund futures. Yet even in fee-paying contexts, there is often a reluctance to name the relationship between teaching and wealth generation directly.

Instead, financial realities are softened through moral language. Schools speak of reinvestment, of quality, of excellence, of outcomes for children. Profit, if it exists at all, is described as incidental or virtuous—something that happens almost by accident on the way to doing good.

Teachers are rarely told explicitly that their labour generates institutional value; that reputation converts into enrolment; that enrolment underwrites salaries and expansion. Everyone understands this. It is simply not spoken plainly.

The result is a curious duality. Schools operate in markets, while teachers are encouraged to think of themselves as existing above them.

The tension here is not simply between public and private sectors. It lies deeper, in the collision of two incompatible logics that teaching is increasingly asked to inhabit simultaneously.

One logic treats education as a moral and civic practice. Its value is long-term, diffuse and social. Its outcomes may not be immediately visible, and their worth cannot be easily quantified. The other treats education as a service purchased by families. Its value must be demonstrable, comparable and timely. Outcomes must justify cost. Teachers are asked to hold the first logic as their professional identity while delivering the second as their professional output.

This is not hypocrisy. It is structural contradiction.

Most teachers are not opposed to schools being financially healthy. They want stability, good resources and fair pay. What unsettles them is not the existence of money, but the pretence that it is irrelevant. When teachers are asked to maintain public-sector moral identity while absorbing private-sector pressures, something gives. Often it is not performance, but trust. Cynicism creeps in. Branding language feels invasive. Metrics feel misaligned. Burnout is framed as personal failure rather than systemic tension. This is sometimes mistaken for ideological resistance to markets. More often, it is a response to being asked to live inside an unacknowledged contradiction.

Education does generate economic value. Acknowledging this does not diminish its moral importance. What corrodes professional integrity is the refusal to hold both truths at once. Private education will remain ethically uneasy for as long as it relies on public-sector virtue while operating on market logic. Teachers deserve honesty about the systems they work within—not euphemism, not moral fog, and not polite silence.

I spent three years working in the admissions and marking department of a private school and now teach within one. I have lived both sides of the contradiction. If private schools wish to claim moral seriousness, they must find transparent ways to articulate both the role of wealth creation and the responsibility of educating future citizens of a shared world.

January 4, 2026
I dined with Arthur but danced with Albert.

Me, looking for my phone.

I’ve been putting this off for some time now, primarily because it’s ‘high calorie’ self-indulgent. However, it occurs to me that if I don’t openly ruminate on this topic, it will consume me whole (or at the very least leave me perennially grumpy). So, if you’re happy to join me on this groan fest, then let’s sketch some chalk symbols on the floor and “EXORCISE THE DEMON”.

*Adjusts stuck on name tag and stands up* *clears throat*

“I’m middle-aged now”.

I live in a tree of blessings. I have a loving family and am loved. I have friends I cherish deeply and (currently) all my faculties are obedient to my will. However, this term’s blog is about cleansing an existential blemish, vis-à-vis: this doom-themed season of the boxset of my life that I’ve been re-running recently. It’s linked to the shorter distance (mathematically speaking) between my ultimate demise and the time I could stay out till 5am. It’s not exactly an existential crisis, more an existential ‘put the coat in the washing machine at the wrong heat setting’ issue. But I still need to move on and do it in a way that I can air Season Six and simply blame the writers for the dark nature of the previous episodes and get on with really trying to like the current Top 10 or at the very least staying out till after 9.30pm. Therefore, I am hopping on the ‘cherry-picker’ and maneuvering away from the tree of blessings and into the ‘fart-hole of pity’ just long enough to make a lick of sense of this feeling of the inevitability of tragedy. Come with me, when has a ‘fart-hole of pity’ not been swinging!

The ultimate problem is a sense that, after nearly half century on the globe, the world is ultimately a dark place. I don’t mean eschatologically as in climate change (though, that is depressing) or politically (imminent arrival of power to right wing leaders across the 49% of the global population who will vote in their country’s elections this year) or the unending, unyielding contrived culture wars that threatens to topple other people’s lateness as the most irritating thing I can do nothing about.

Just that, we – as humans – are fundamentally dark. Or at the very least, our sense making of the world can be shaded. I mean, it’s true to say that suffering is inked into our skin. And fine, I admit it, I have been reading a little Schopenhauer of late…sorry.

In case you’ve never met him, here’s his picture:

Enthused

Arthur Schopenhauer was a German philosopher known for his pessimistic outlook on life and his emphasis on the concept of the will. I won’t delve too much into this, suffice to say that Schopenhauer posited that the will is the fundamental aspect of human existence and drives all human actions and desires. He saw the will as an irrational and blind force, underlying both individual actions and the workings of the universe and with pessimism and suffering at the heart of this existence. Schopenhauer believed that life is inherently filled with suffering and that human desires and pursuits ultimately lead to dissatisfaction. He viewed existence as characterized by an endless cycle of striving, suffering, and fleeting moments of pleasure. He’s the mayor of ‘Fart-Hole of Pity.’

However, one can’t help but feel an alignment with such a view in middle-age. And he’s not alone of course. Religion, particularly the Christians, place the inherent failures of humans as a necessary part of our existence. Their way out of perpetual misery is salvation through a prophet who…guess what: Suffered. Other religions assign a strict adherence to rules and roles in life as a way of finding meaning in all this suffering and rage. What is there, however, for those of us who found the pews too uncomfortable and songs lacking a little edge?

We are left with simply ignoring it – which (and let’s not under play this hand) is not without its advantages. Do you sometimes feel that life is an eternal struggle which ultimately ends in failure? Yes, I did like ‘Eternal Flame’ by The Bangles and would love another Cornetto – thanks. We could all be ‘Alexas’ – innocuously misinterpreting our misanthropic moaners by offering alternatives:

“Can we ever get out of this head space of suffering”?

“Okay, here’s ‘We gotta get out of this place’ by The Animals”.

I need to confess. We are only visiting ‘Fart-Hole’ today. I have already been here. And I found a way out so that visiting is an indulgence rather than a planned retirement. And my panacea for middle-aged maudlin of a ‘all life is suffering’ nature came from another existentialist and one whom I never touched upon before…Albert Camus and more specially his book: The Myth of Sisyphus.

I was aware of Sisyphus. I knew he was the chap from Greek Mythology who pissed off the gods and as punishment for his actions, when Sisyphus died, was condemned to Tartarus, the deepest part of the Greek underworld. His penalty was to roll a massive boulder uphill, only for it to roll back down every time he neared the top, forcing him to repeat the task for eternity.

Not unlike teaching.

I jest, of course, but actually: no – this was what nudged me into the direction of Camus. I was comparing teaching to Sisyphus to a poor colleague who was simply trying to mark her work. I was bemoaning (probably) how some saw teaching and learning as a linear experience for all involved with neat assessments at the end. As any teacher will tell you, learning is not linear (apart for a lucky few). The truth is that learning is a colossal effort, and its dissemination to young minds is the boulder to be toiled on the mountain in Hades. With each roll, that rock of learning is taught over and over and over, by turn and turn again; imparted in several different, colorful, targeted, formative inquiry-based differentiated ways till you get finally get that boulder to the top of the hill…and still…the children don’t get it. So, as you watch the boulder roll right back down the hill again, you stiffen your sinews, put your back against the stone and roll it back up to the peak.

I mused on this at home and came across Albert’s book ‘The Myth of Sisyphus’. So, what’s Camus’s view?

The main idea of Albert Camus’ “The Myth of Sisyphus” revolves around the concept of the absurdity of life, which at times, I am sure, we can all agree on. Camus argues that life is inherently meaningless (a la Arthur) and absurd, yet humans must confront this absurdity and find meaning and fulfillment in the face of it. Therefore, view Sisyphus as a metaphor for the human condition: despite the seemingly futile nature of his task, Sisyphus finds purpose and meaning in his struggle. Camus suggests that embracing the absurdity of life allows individuals to find freedom and authenticity.

What I found not only as a comfort but also a practical fix to when the wheels start coming off was that the cyclical nature of the absurdity of life cannot be ignored and must at times be faced – but be faced with what it is not what others can contrive it to be. There is an authenticity in shouldering suffering and a freedom in choosing to push back again. But that only comes when you choose the seriousness of a thing, which whilst not always in your power given any Herculean labour on any given day: you can at least defang its bite: filing through to its absurdity and meaninglessness.

I may from time to time miss my indestructible youth; my realization that the chap in the mirror bears no resemblance to the namesake in my head and be worried about what the next eight months may bring geo-politically. However, ask anyone old enough to remember or care…there’s nothing new. Just all things repeating, again. And that’s absurd. But we shoulder the suffering, freely and with character. And we get to make our meaning.

Whether Arthur likes it or not.

March 29, 2024
Fathers? Absent. Teachers? Present.

The problem with holidays is one has time to scheme. The day-to-day pressures of working and upholding a work persona mean that when one’s time is one’s own and the inbox is ignored and the work persona shelved: new, interesting, ambitious and creative projects come to the fore. Currently, the ambitious and creative project hamster which spins the wheel in the back of my head and occasionally and loudly nibbles on toilet roll is what I would do for a PhD. More often than not, the rustlings and nibbling’s of project hamster are drowned out by the bellows of students and vicissitudes of everyday life. Like I say, that’s the problem with holidays.

Men are a problem. I would confidently claim that in a substantial amount of a child protection social worker’s case load the bulk of the load is caused by a man: a man who is absent causes problems; a man who is present causes problems. They’re just problematical. Problematic men in a child’s life within a child protection context would be fairly obvious – risk of abuse. However, their absence from a child’s life can place significant strain on the normative parenting workload of a single parent. Furthermore, the lack of a good role model can also be detrimental to a child’s sense of identity and esteem. However, not all male parenting figure’s absences are linked to child protection. Oftentimes, the nature of a significant male role model’s absence in a child’s life is simply due to expectations and pressures of work, and within the context of international schools – the earning divide. This is especially felt in countries where the wife (though not exclusively) or ‘accompanying spouse’ can’t get a work visa which places the ‘breadwinner’ burden firmly on the male side. The reality for a lot of hard-working and loving fathers is that their ‘problematic’ absence is not due to maleficence, but simply work commitment. Another significant variable, especially for expat families, is the lack of a family support network. All put simply, in my experience in international schools, dads are away a lot. I know this because the children tell me. And they tell me that whilst they understand why their dads are away…they miss them.

Parenting can be problematic. And in child protection social work it can become unsafe and concerning. When child protection social workers are faced with overwhelming evidence that a child is at risk of significant harm, they can use legal powers or ‘Care Orders’ to remove that child from the home (often temporarily, sometimes permanently). During that period of separation and before any final court orders around adoption happen, the biological parents retain their legal status of ‘parent’ and all the responsibilities therein, however the local authority is given a new epithet: Corporate Parent. Now, I like the phrase ‘corporate parent’. That said, I understand the grind between something as innately caring and purposeful as ‘parent’ and something as myopic, calculative and materialistic as ‘corporate’. However, parenting can be a hot boiling mix of values, ethics and psychology that could benefit from the cubed iced drops of policy, procedure and measurable outcomes. What I liked most about the phrase ‘corporate parent’ during my time as a social worker is it separated me from the role. When I was working with a child, I could exhibit the unconditional regard for safety and the intuitive show of compassion and care linked inextricably with good parenting but had that corporate parent embossed tempered glass panel between us that allowed me to make rationale and evidenced based decisions for what was best – unfettered by any ‘loving obligation’.

Well, that was theory. In practice it was incredibly hard – especially when the ‘Body Corporate Parent’ (senior leadership) insisted on decisions that either made no sense or clearly didn’t know the child. However, I digress.

Can I say, the hamster in my head is feeling the love right now? I am metaphorically cleaning out the cage, refilling the water and putting a few treats in the bowl here. To be honest, it was beginning to smell a little bit.

The PhD idea? I am essentially talking about non-dangerous absent fathers and the role of the corporate parent – in this case ‘teacher’ and more specifically: ‘male primary school teacher’. Where am I going with this within an international school context and what does this have to do with a PhD? It would be my view that male primary school teachers have a corporate parenting role to play in their student’s lives within certain specific contexts. I would almost go as far as an ‘obligation’ to do so (if I was feeling more controversial) And whilst there are professional, ethical, and sociological issues with this claim (and that I would be made to refute) ultimately, teachers do share the parenting load; they do have a legal duty of care anyways and, because of the problem of men – male teachers should be prepared to pick up the extra heavy lifting in certain contexts as a corporate parent.

Cage is clean, hamster is happy. I’ve made a lot of claims here about fathers and family demographics in an international school setting – but I reckon with a good academic library, and some of my own qualitative research, I could substantively prove this to be the case. I’ll be arguing some pretty interesting points from education philosophy, sociology and ethics but again, I would probably enjoy that! But, what do you think? I would welcome the views of any readers of this piece on the statement:

Male Primary School teachers have a corporate parenting role to play within the lives of children with absent fathers.

January 6, 2024
Is there a place for ‘unconditional positive regard’ in a whole school policy?

Unconditional positive regard (UPR) does exactly what it says on the tin. It demands of the listener (therapist, teacher, social worker etc) that whatever behaviour (within reason) is being exhibited or whatever disclosures are coming forth (again, within reason) – one must act with a positive and empathetic mindset irrespective of the content. In other words – park your own opinion and judgement at the door and simply accept all that is being offered.

It originates from the work of therapist and psychologist Carl Rogers, in which it formed the fulcrum of his ‘Client Centred’ therapeutic approach. In my first year of social work training, I spent three months at a local Primary school and my time was equally divided between supporting academic pull-out groups and working with the school’s counsellor/therapist. Her approach aligned firmly with that of Carl Rogers and his ‘Client Centred Therapy’. Forgive me, I am understating…she was a card-carrying acolyte of Carl Rogers! She had a laser-focused stare which melted the side of my head on any occasion where I mis stepped and offered a child a solution to their problem.

As a form of therapy, it sounds pretty straightforward, right? Certainly the initial part of the process; accept any statements, thoughts, opinions or beliefs without condition or judgement. However, it is a great deal harder than it sounds. It goes without saying that it is very effective with children where trust is paramount. Believe me, when trying to understand what is troubling a child, you are undertaking an archaeological dig, not a fracking contract, and unconditional positive regard is one of your most effective tools. It does require training and not only training in terms of how to deliver it therapeutically, but also one must reflect deeply on one’s own power, prejudices and motivations when employing this approach in action.

Which leads to three worries I have when I see its prevalence within school behaviour policies, or its wording included on school websites.

Firstly, a short philosophical concern. There may be deontological issue with this approach within the school context of using unconditional positive regard to modify behaviour. If Child A is engaging in behaviours that are disruptive and policy dictates an unconditional positive regard approach – that tactic is not within the ‘good will’ of therapy. In other words, the teacher isn’t a therapist engaging with the child in a client centred way seeking to uncover slowly and methodically what is troubling a child and therefore how other strategies would ameliorate. They are using it as a specific means to an end which would not, in most cases, build robust pathways to better mental health.

Secondly, as discussed above, this way of working requires training. There’s an assumption (in my view) that any adult who has undertaken training to work with children would either have come across UPR explicitly or at least engaged in it heuristically. I absolutely worked explicitly with UPR as a social worker – but not once as a teacher. Teacher training does not major or minor in child development; that’s something you just pick up on the job. Therefore, there could develop faulty models of working within this method. Furthermore, an effective and meaningful use of UPR entails deep levels of discussion and reflections with line managers to ensure the practice is being undertaken effectively – meaning training isn’t just required for teachers, but leaders as well.

My final concern is the use of the term itself within a school context. Fundamentally, how children are regarded is conditional. You are regarded as academically successful on the condition of your marks. Your behaviour and how it is regarded is conditioned upon whether you receive ‘house points’ or ‘conducts’. But outside of how a school conditionally regards its pupils through is administrative whole school systems, one can’t escape that fact that individual teachers will regard individual children on whole range of conditions both objective and of course, subjective. Therefore, any school which includes UPR as a whole school policy would need to include clear advice and guidance on this approach to be understood unambiguously by its employees.

Unconditional Positive Regard belongs squarely within the any SEN or therapeutic department of a school. To insist upon its ideology outside of its natural habitat will require training for staff and all levels of leadership and caveats within any whole school behaviour policy. Otherwise, it is at best a way of acting that assumes the good will, patience, or innate skill of its workforce or a worst it is simply a ‘hot button’ phrase to drive numbers and create a ‘feel-good’ narrative in the school’s marketing.

July 10, 2023
Back to Basics: A call to the head and heart – or simply ice cream for everyone?
Those of us in teaching have all experienced that exhausting final term at school. Behavioral problems from the usual suspects, every teacher running on empty but pushing ourselves and our charges over the line with as little drama as possible. We try to maintain discipline with increasingly wearied and fatigued cohorts of children (whose parents also hanker for the last day of school) as we continue to operate in the long shadow of Covid. But for certain there must be a discussion on how to address the behaviour problems encountered throughout the school over those final four months. In the concluding full staff meeting before planes are boarded, bars propped up or beds receive the dead weight of teacher ‘husks’ – the plan to address issues since January are disseminated and lo and behold out trots – ‘it’s time to go back to basics.

There’s a contrary itch in an idiom that states that to achieve progression we must first achieve regression – but I understand the mis en scene. As an appeal to the head – it’s about simplifying a complex operation and re-establishing how it works at its most basic level, and it’s easy to see how problems arise. How about this as an analogy: Over a period of time, an operating system that worked well with a basic structure whereby the main cogs ran simply and operated their primary functions without fault has incorporated into it more complex machinations. The belief being that the convoluted ways of working would either improve on the basic fulcrum of the system, meet new demands on the system or favorably tweak some issues. So far so good. Then, over more time these more convoluted moving parts start to take on the role as the new base system of operations and their more multifarious and intricate ways of working deemed ready to be front loaded yet further with systems thus causing more problems in of themselves instead of positively performing their primary function. The result is that folks look at the assembled muddle and say ‘Hey, remember when it worked really well because it was simple, and it did those simple things well…let’s just do that again!’

The biggest issue with my mechanical analogy is that whilst we could imagine a machine which at its most basic form worked seamlessly – the same cannot be said of a human constructed values-based organization. For when a school talks about going back to basics, for example requiring pupils to line up silently before they enter the classroom, you have to ask yourself: Are we doing this because lining up is a simpler more basic way of managing a classroom before learning? Or are we doing it because returning to some previous more basic way of working is just good in of itself?

My assumptions about ‘back to basics’ is twofold:
1. It implies that more complex or convoluted ways of working are to blame for errors given the nature of complexity.
2. That going ‘back to basics’ is of itself a virtuous action – but that this can be construed as a token phrase rather than really exploring values and individual well-being.
Let’s examine these two points:

I will take ‘lining up in silence outside the classroom before the lesson’ as an example of ‘back to basics best practice’. Let’s ignore that this strategy suits secondary school (where pupils move about from class to class) more than it would say an Elementary homeroom teacher. My problems are not situated there. Why is lining up in silence outside the classroom considered a fulcrum ‘basic’? Is it because it works simply, or is it because it feels good?

Let’s consider the issue that newer, or more convoluted ways of working are to blame (instead of keeping things simple) for a breakdown in school discipline before class begins. Maybe the newer system that was in place was that pupils could enter the classroom but had to get started on a task that had been set for them. In this instance, teachers would plan for an activity as students walked in that could be accessed independently that either would prepare for the main learning ahead or put them in a good cognitive mindset. This is sometimes referred to as ‘bell work’. Certainly, a more convoluted approach to the start of class discipline than lining up outside silently and awaiting the teacher’s permission to enter. However, the argument is that the new approach is more appropriate to promoting learning, though I don’t want to get bogged down by this. Let’s just state that ‘bell work’ is a more convoluted and load heavy approach than lining up outside silently.

Maybe there had been a problem with the ‘bell work’ approach because a teacher had gone from say a GCSE history class with 16-year old’s straight to a Year 7 class with eleven years old’s and they didn’t have time to prepare a suitably engaging activity for them to dive in to. Possibly, the previous period of teaching had been fraught, and the teacher needed a five-minute breather and lining the pupils outside gives them the space to reset? Both perfectly rational reasons to have children line up outside.

However, that the more convoluted, but arguably more learning focused start to the class could at times be difficult to achieve, does not necessarily mean that it in itself is at fault for a breakdown in class discipline. Its more complex nature compared to simply lining them up does not necessarily make it at fault. Maybe the convoluted ‘bell work’ approach works, but meaningful help needs to be offered on supporting that teacher with different strategies when switching between grades. In this operating system (discipline and order before class) ‘bell work’ is a great way to engage children in being ready to learn – there’s nothing wrong with it. Therefore, to that end, there’s no need for a return to basics – we just need to take more time and give more care to embed a newer way of working because it’s not 1955 anymore and research has moved us on. Oops! Did you see what I did there? I threw in a little ‘values’ wink. Am I suggesting that when we talk about going ‘back to basics’ we are talking about a more ‘simpler time’ rather than a simpler way of working? There are ways of working throughout history that still work today…but sometimes ‘back to basics’ isn’t an appeal to review the machinations of a way of operating to ensure the foundations are sound – for at its worst, it’s a values laden treat:  churned creamily with simplicity, dipped in sumptuous good old fashioned values and sprinkled with straight talking – no nonsense sparkles. Mmmmmm…so comforting.

As it happens there is, I think, an argument that going back to basics is in of itself a virtuous action. I make a play on how it can be used to give a false sweet sense of comfort that things will improve irrespective of the context, but for me that is where the issue is. If you were to say to a group of beleaguered or confused people that the plan was to go back to basics – there may well be a sense of relief and a hope for a more direct path. That said, it’s virtue is not located in its promise for a simpler time (that may have never really existed, except for false memories or dominant discourses)  – it is its link to asceticism. That is its virtue.

Asceticism, in its strict religious meaning, is stark self-discipline. A rejection of any indulgences; abstention from practices that may cause erring or swerving the most pious path. If I can dilute this harsh definition – I think it would be fair to say that most religions hold it to be true that living a simpler life, a life less over burdened by technology or one that shrugs off over complicated or convoluted ways of thinking or acting , as a ‘good’ life. And intuitively we feel it to be so – think of detoxifying, de-cluttering, breaks from social media…these are viewed as important if not necessary ways of recentering and recalibrating what is important and what works. So much like our machine analogy at the top – seen through the lens of a virtuous action; going back to basics from a personal almost ‘spiritual’ way will inevitably offer some insight into why a way of being or acting is causing consternation or a lack of productivity. And there is benefit in that. There is benefit in going to back to basics both in personal reflection and in reviewing an operating system that may be at fault.

So what’s the problem?

Therefore, the problem arises when going ‘back to basics’ is a token gesture. This idiom should not be free from constructive criticism. When someone tells you they are taking something ‘back to basics’ are they offering a plan to reflect and review on a way a thing functions?  A chance to re-establish what we know works and really try and embed newer systems to work well and not reject them because complex necessarily equals complications. Are they offering the space and time for an individual to re-calibrate and re-assess what is ‘good’ for them? Giving folks time to mentally recharge. Or are they simply hoping you’ll hear in your mind the faint lilting chimes of the ice cream truck – wistfully recalling how you once could leave your doors unlocked at night, no one had a mobile phone that now ruins everything and a tenner could buy you a movie ticket, fish and chips on the way home and still have change for a mortgage. And in your reverie, you agree to whatever is suggested because ‘back to basics’ feels like it can only be a good thing, right? Don’t be afraid to challenge this idiom when it’s presented to you whether it be an appeal to the heart or the head – but always accept a scoop of ice cream.
August 14, 2022
Should we reward a ‘work ethic’?

Before school finished (finally) for summer, my Primary (Elementary) aged son came home pleased to have received a certificate from school praising his hard work and effort. We were delighted to hear about his journey and reflected with him on the ‘ups’ and ‘downs’ of a year like no other (fingers crossed). However, it felt discombobulating that he should be rewarded for something that is good ‘in of itself’. We wouldn’t ply him with rewards for being ‘honest’ or for showing ‘respect’ because those are qualities he should possess – because they themselves are good qualities.

When we talk about something being ‘good, in of itself’ we mean that the thing doesn’t require anything else to make it ‘good’. For example, the member of staff who helped pack my shopping today shouldn’t be thanked because he did his job, his job is not what defines him– he is thanked because he is a fellow human and that kindness, that ‘thanking someone’ is a virtuous act that is good ‘all by itself’.

My argument this month is that if we place a work ethic as a ‘rewardable act’, in school it somehow makes its nature, its essence, contingent on an external, rewardable, measurable outcome. In other words: we make ‘working hard’ a rewardable act instead of an established virtue in of itself. If, in its place, we reinforce the value and virtue of hard work through reflection – and support internalising it within the individual child – then we respect that a work ethic is good ‘in of itself’ which doesn’t need a reward to validate it.

You may or may not know it, but if you work with children in any capacity be it their parent, teacher, guidance counsellor…you will most likely utilize behaviorist psychology to bend them to your will. ‘Behaviorism’ refers to a branch of experimental psychology which places the importance on learning through association rather than ‘cognition’ which relies more on logical structures.  Whether you explicitly learned such techniques in training for a role – or recall how effective they were on you; behaviorism is the brand leader and therefore most recognizable technique for disciplining and modifying child behavior.

Of Behaviorism’s product range – one of the most popular is ‘operant conditioning’. This is the one where good deeds are rewarded and bad deeds punished. Only children who are good get ice cream. If you keep picking your nose, your brains will fall out. If the wind changes, it’ll stay that way…forever. These examples of ‘positive reinforcement’ and ‘negative reinforcement’ are very effective in modifying behaviors. Any time you have laid out a course of action for a child – and wish them to attain a goal – you may promote a pleasing outcome if done correctly or a less than positive outcome to keep them on the straight and narrow. Either way, tangible rewards, punishments or dire consequences can be powerful associations to learning. If you work in teaching, behaviorist techniques are a daily tool in the ever-present toolbox.

For the purpose of this month’s blog, it is the technique of positive reinforcement through a tangible reward that will be my focus.

Nothing wrong with this per se. Operant conditioning is highly effective, especially when it comes to gaining results in an expedient way. Recently, Carol Dweck, in her groundbreaking book on ‘Mindsets’ changed the game somewhat when she suggested that teachers should seek to reward ‘effort’ not ‘outcome’. Her shift of using positive reinforcement for the effort put in toward a goal over the measurable outcome of the goal itself was, in my view, a welcome shift from the old paradigm of praise the trophy, not the journey. However, I cannot help but feel an extra opportunity is being missed in terms of supporting the child’s growth as a person, for whilst rewarding effort is commendable – it is still a ‘reward’ and an extrinsically sought reward as well.

Extrinsic rewards or motivations are those things sought outside of ourselves. If teenagers tidied their rooms (right!) for fear of an argument with a parent or for $20, that’s an extrinsic motivation. The consequence is coming from ‘outside’ of themselves.

“I need to act in this (good) way, for fear of a bad consequence (negation of reward) or in the hope of a good consequence (gaining a reward). “

If the same teenager tidies their room because a tidy room is virtuous and keeping it tidy maintains that virtue – their motivation is intrinsic. The desire to do well is acted upon not because of a consequence, but because it is good ‘in of itself’. They may experience good feelings and positive sensations and garner the praise of others – but these were not the primary motivations.

I would argue as well then, that intrinsic motivations are more sustainable. They are internalized and are acted upon because of the ‘good’ that the action itself possesses. They are locked in, and not only because it makes the person feel good – but they are ‘objectively’ good and transcend the need for reward. Extrinsic motivations rely on others or in some cases on the constant requirement of a separately sourced outside consequence. Rewards must also be well considered – they must match the achievement. What person would engage in a gargantuan effort for a small candy bar?

How could promoting this mindset look in the actual real world? Let’s imagine that ‘Sally’ has worked hard on her ‘Volcano’ project for school. Her final piece is not terribly good, but the teacher wishes to reward her effort:

Extrinsic / Consequence/ Reward: Fantastic effort today, Sally – here is your effort certificate.
Intrinsic/ Good in itself / Virtuous:  Sally, I think you have worked very hard today, but how do you feel about your efforts? What were some of the positives from working as hard as you did? Do you think others should work hard as well? If so, why?

Let me stress – I am not ‘anti-rewards’ for effort – of course not. But I would argue that a model of reflection and critical thought promotes a deeper connection to a virtuous act – an extended learning opportunity. Her hard work isn’t finished with the brandishing of the reward, but instead a process of reflection, discussion and critical thoughts which embeds the virtue of working hard beyond measurable outcomes or full-stop rewards. Ideally, Sally is left not feeling like she has been given a token gesture – but she’s been able to fully understand the quality that working hard and persevering enriches not only her own learning – but is a constructive personality trait.

Why should a ‘work ethic’ or the practice of putting in effort be considered so highly? It doesn’t require much in the way of evidence gathering to know this to be true and not just in schools but in the workplace, culturally and spiritually. Two of the world’s largest religions have some clarity on the virtue of hard work. Most famously in Christianity is the ‘Protestant Work Ethic’. This perspective, forged from Calvinism, places significant importance on act of working hard as being good ‘in of itself’ where working hard, along with ascetism and frugality’ is of itself a form of worship to God. This belief of working hard as an act of worship is also mirrored in Islam with Qur’an being pretty clear that time should not be wasted.

But hold up – surely this isn’t universally true!? The German existentialist philosopher, Frederick Nietzsche, doesn’t necessarily agree that ‘working hard’ is always good in of itself. In his ‘Daybreak: Thoughts on the Prejudices of Morality’ he opined how whilst the virtue of a hard work ethic will use up all that ‘nervous energy’ it comes at the cost of energies being put into ‘love, refection, brooding and dreaming. I will leave it up to each of you to make your own decisions on the virtue of brooding. It’s worth pointing out that, in the same book, Nietzsche also said that ‘I deny morality just as I deny alchemy’! However, the point here is that where we put our hard work and efforts is a whole other story!

It would be hard to deny the argument that, whether through philosophical reasoning or its application in everyday life, a work ethic is an objectively good thing. This status places it alongside fairness, kindness, benevolence, perseverance, honesty – all virtuous actions that feel beyond the chocolate bar and a pat on the head.  These ways of being or ways of acting are not virtuous because of their consequences or how they can be measured, they are valued as good in themselves – shouldn’t ‘working hard’ rank alongside them?

July 25, 2021