I have just finished reading the book ‘Legacy’ by James Kerr, somewhat late to the party (it was first written in 2013). The book charts the sustained winning culture of the New Zealand rugby union team, the famous All Blacks. It is a fabulous book for anyone who is, or aspires to be, in a leadership role. (As an aside, for those interested in Catholic education, I was particularly amazed by the cross-over with many aspects of Catholic Social Teaching.)

There are many bits that aligned with all I’ve tried to do as a leader, but the part I want to write about is when the author describes what he calls ‘the interrogative culture’ at the heart of the All Blacks’ culture. Players and coaches are encouraged to ask questions, to offer suggestions, and to consider what might or might not be the next step for the team’s progress. They actively seek out different knowledge and insights from other people and organisations.

When reading this section of the book, it chimed with a phrase I have used a lot in recent years – that of ‘professional curiosity’. For me, this phrase gets to the heart of a culture change within educational policy where we have, as tends to happen, over-corrected.

Ever since Tony Blair’s government welcomed in that ‘new dawn’ back in 1997, there has been an unrelenting drive from politicians to become micro-managers, not only setting the direction for educational policy and practices, but often writing the detail too. From the Literacy and Numeracy hours at the turn of the century, all the way through to the Orwellian initial teacher training materials of the present day, non-teachers (in the main) have told teachers what to do.

The result is an educational ecosystem that is typified by a lack of professional curiosity. Teachers have become so used to others telling them what to do, they deal with any change or challenge by expecting someone to solve it on their behalf. Visits to other schools, different sectors, or other country’s jurisdictions have been replaced by bland videos ‘instructing’ or ‘coaching’ (I would argue that coaching has lately become a euphemism for instruction).

If you haven’t read ‘Cleverlands’ by Lucy Crehan, I strongly recommend it. One learns so much from the five education systems that she visits and writes about. Canada, Japan, Finland, China and Singapore. Ah, yes, Singapore. I suppose a challenge back to me would be, ‘well, the UK did look across the world, and liked what Singapore was doing and copied that.’ Isn’t that proof of professional curiosity?

Touché! But only up to a point. Whilst that has undeniably led to better maths teaching, Crehan also warns against the wholesale adoption of another system, which we have tended to fall for. It’s the easy way out, rather like the headteacher who buys a published curricular scheme and tells all the teachers…‘err, just turn to page 2 and follow that.’ There is a tendency to look for evidence that meets one’s own personal ideology and preferences, something politicians are prone to do. Being too certain in your own ideology is dangerous, in that is sows division and encourages victimhood. ‘Certainly is the enemy of unity’, as Pope Francis put it.

High quality professional curiosity allows us to see nuances and assimilate information from lots of sources before making our own decision, and therefore retaining agency. A sense of discernment, where we weigh up benefits and consequences, challenging colleagues in a constructive way.

For my own part, I do not fit into a neat trad/prog definition. But I am always curious. So whilst I am open to being wrong, and changing my mind, what I am almost certain about is that we need more professional curiosity, more discernment. It is a state of mind. One of the features of other education systems across the world is the high standards of academic rigour expected of teachers before they qualify, often to a Masters level. The inference then is that they are skilled to such a level that they are able to make informed decisions themselves. Crehan has this as one of her recommendations for our system and I agree. It is sad to say it, but our teachers are simply not educated enough.

My forays into MATlands over the last few years have also confirmed my belief around a diminishing level of professional curiosity. It is the interests of MATs to proclaim to the world that ‘we have the solutions to your problems’. Join us, and all will be well, because we have the magic formula. In conversations with MAT leaders, not once have I been asked any questions. There was no curiosity about my career as a headteacher, or as an inspector, or as someone who thinks deeply about education.

I feel there is also a danger of non-teachers, particularly accountants and lawyers who are so intertwined in our MAT system now, failing to be interested in the classroom, the playground, the dining hall etc etc. the stuff that is really affecting children’s lives and the well-being of staff.

We are in the eye of a hurricane; never has society changed quite like it is changing now. Human nature tends to deal with this by projecting certainty and calm. We console each other that we have all the answers and ‘we’re just fine’. Those of us who are parents will know that this is how we deal with our children when we are in the middle of a mini-crisis at home. Everything’s OK.

But for organisations, it is a sure path to failure. Just as sports teams realise that an interrogative, challenging culture leads to better decision-making on the pitch, so should staff teams, and MAT teams, be exploring, questioning, listening actively, encouraging teachers to do the same. This leads to many benefits, not least a rise in innovation and fresh thinking from staff, empowered as they are by the chance to find solutions themselves. It’s a win-win.

So here’s a call for more professional curiosity, that seeks to deal with those big ‘whales’ I identified in my previous blog. Because more curiosity, I believe, will lead to better teachers and better schools.